The sadness has been ever so present again, the tears flowing freely. It feels as though I have come upon a very unwelcome detour in my grief process.
There is one problem in that last statement. None of it probably appears "good" (grief, detour, sadness), but truly it's okay - most of it. See, there is no problem with grief; it is in fact the most healthy and sane thing I can continue to do in this season after loss. And there is no problem with detour. A detour just gives us another pathway to an end. In this case an end that is my healing. So where the problem lies is with that one word - unwelcome. The one that I DO have control over. The one that will change everything for me in this space and time.
As I ponder the word, unwelcome, I think of words like cold, hard, and resistant. If I am honest this has become the state of my heart in recent weeks. Why is it so hard to welcome the pain, once again? To accept and try to understand the root of it. To press into, and grieve. The reasons are many, but the truth is I must. I must feel and experience the sadness, without judgement of self, to find a way forward. To move through.
Yet not "move on".
That is the tension that has been causing so much angst and most likely the resistance in my soul. How do I move forward in this place without moving on? Moving on - and away from my Kate Ryan. The first year after loss felt protected in so many ways. It felt safe and okay and understandable to want to keep Kate alive in our hearts and in our life. I wrote monthly birthday letters, we talked about her often, the girls drew, we hung pictures and made photo albums, we grieved, alone and with others. We honored her life on her birthday with a special celebration. These are just a few of the ways she has remained part of us. Then came the beginning of year two, and right on top of the holidays of course. The whirlwind of the season was swirling around me, but my heart felt frozen. Stuck. It wanted to scream and cry but it didn't seem like there was time, space, or freedom. Feeling alone, I just ached.
As things have slowed down and stilled, my heart has begun to dethaw. It hasn't been pretty but it has been necessary. Grief is necessary and it is healing. I love Psalm 56:8. It says, "You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book." This verse has been such comfort to me as I have mourned deeply this week. As I have dreamed of who she would be right now. (absolutely pure deliciousness!) As I have missed her presence.
As I fight to keep her alive and part of us in this second year .... and ALWAYS. As I prepare this week to begin changing her room into her baby brother's. It's killing me if I am honest, but it is right and it is time. I will, this week, with the help of a cherished friend clean out the rest of her things and prepare to move forward. The truth is she is always a part of us. My SON will not replace Kate Ryan. (and how sweet of the Lord to give us a SON, right?) He will not replace her .... that may seem like a gigantic "duh", but my mother's heart overrides logic here. My heart feels protective of her; that she be remembered and always have a place. Kate has impacted us so deeply and will always be my 3rd child. My last daughter. She is engraved on our hearts forever, so I will not fear. The scriptures remind us that perfect love casts out fear, and my Father IS perfect love. His good and perfect gifts are from above and are birthed from a heart of LOVE. This is true of Kate Ryan and our new boy on the way. So I cannot fear. I will not fear moving into and through the hard moments ahead. Because we are not moving on; but moving forward in this season that is pregnant not only with new life but also with trust, hope and faith.
