This past week I haven't been able to put thoughts of my cousin Jon and Jeremy's father out of my head. I keep replaying the events of May and the sudden deaths of them both within days of one another, and I can't seem to grasp the reality of it all. The traveling between NY and Miami, the hasty arrangements, the stacks of sympathy cards, and the painful goodbyes. It all is so final. I rechecked our phone ID the other day and realized that Jon's number had finally been bumped off our caller ID, no longer marking his last call to us on Mothers Day. A call I never recieved because we were in Miami with Jeremy's father.
I think of my father-in-law, and what a strong commanding presence he had, and how our children will only hear stories of the wonderful man who shaped their daddy into the father he is today. I think of holidays and family get togethers, and wonder what it will be like. I worry about my husband and whether or not he has really processed the whole event himself.
And yet there is a normalcy to life. The sun rises new every morning. The seasons keep changing. But sometimes I just wish it would stop for a little while. Or slow down just enough so I can feel like it's not trying to force me to keep up with it, and move on, and build new memories over the old ones. I want to sit a little longer, just as I am, without it thrusting me forward.
8 We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. 9 We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. 10 Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies.
2 Corinthians 4:8-10
Are you dealing with grief?
And what the heck, 10 ways to change your attitude if you are like me and get yourself all worked up at 1am in the morning.
Blessings,
C
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