It May Be ‘Well With My Soul,’ But I Am Not Okay

It was a beautiful service. More than one person has sheepishly admitted to feeling guilty for saying they “enjoyed” my dad’s funeral, but I know what they meant. We “had church” that day. The choir loft was full, family and friends held us close, we sang together, and I could truly feel God’s presence with me through the visitation and the funeral service. I visited with friends and family I haven’t seen in awhile. We hugged and cried and even laughed. I heard stories about my dad that are almost like family traditions they are told so often. I heard stories about my dad I’d never heard before.

And then everyone went home.

And life never even missed a day.

And I am not okay.

I am tired. At first I thought I just needed to catch up on the rest I’d missed the last few nights my dad was alive. We stayed by my dad’s bed around the clock and didn’t get much sleep. But even though I’m sleeping more regular hours and in my own bed, I’m more exhausted than ever. I think just living through each day takes more energy than I’m used to expending.

I am sad. I cry a lot.  I haven’t had any prolonged sessions of weeping, moaning, or wailing, but the tears come often, usually  in short little spurts of sadness. Like when I was in Books-A-Million and I found myself looking for a good book to give my dad for his birthday or Christmas (I almost always bought him cologne and a book around his birthday and/or Christmas). The  realization I would never get to buy my dad a book ever again felt like a kick to my stomach.

I have discovered sad tears are not the same as mad tears. (I cry when I’m very mad, which makes me even angrier.) Mad tears are hotter and they burn my nose a little. I’ve cried lots of mad tears lately because…

Mostly I am mad.

I am upset Thanksgiving happened anyway. It should have been cancelled. As should the whole month of December. I don’t want to do my birthday or my dad’s birthday or Christmas this year. I realize besides my birthday, the other two dates are not even really about me, but I just don’t know I can stomach the season this year. But I will, because my children need me to. My mom and brother and husband need me to. I need to. My dad would want me to.

Several times in different places on Thanksgiving day I read that gratitude is a choice, not an emotion and I truly am thankful for the blessings I’ve received. But being thankful is usually more of an instant response for me. This year it has felt a little forced.

And since I’ve been honest with you about this whole journey, I’m going to tell you I am mad my dad didn’t get the miracle I asked God to give him. The one my sweet babies prayed for every single night and every day at school. The one I begged for more often and with more energy than I’ve ever asked for anything in my entire life. I asked with all my heart and God said no, not on this earth. He did not do what I wanted Him to do and I am mad.

I know God’s plan is always the best plan. I know He is purposeful in everything He does. I know His ways are higher than my ways. I know one day I’ll understand. I believe He can even get more glory from my dad’s death than He would have received if my dad had lived.

But I am an imperfect, sinful, selfish little girl who misses her daddy and nothing in the paragraph above this one makes me less angry or makes me miss my daddy any less. I can’t see what is around the next corner. I just see my life without my dad in it and I don’t like it and I am mad.

Please don’t tell me my dad’s in a better place. I know he is. I’m not sad for him. I’m sad for me. I miss the way my world was when my dad was in it.

Lately I don’t answer many of my texts, emails, or phone calls. I haven’t felt like talking lately. I’m also tired of opening my mouth to say a sentence only to melt into a puddle of tears. I have a hard time praying right now. For almost a year I’ve been praying for my dad. I now have a big gaping hole where that prayer used to be. I could pretend I’m a bigger person and I’m a more mature believer, but I’ve always told the truth here, so I’m just going to tell it like it is and say I know that part of the reason I’m having a hard time talking to God is He really hurt my feelings. I am pouting and I am holding a grudge.

I am so hesitant to publish this post. I realize how ridiculous it is that the creation is giving the Creator the silent treatment. How dare I pout at the Lord Most High? Just who do I think I am?  I think maybe I’m related to David. Have you read any of his songs in the book of Psalms lately? He asked the same questions I’ve been asking. And just like me, he wondered where in the world God was one minute and then held on for dear life to the hope of God the next.

I am not okay.

But every day I wake up, get dressed and ready for the day, and I “do the next thing.” And I am going to publish this post because, I am going to make a bold declaration, like one of my favorite bloggers Annie did some time ago.  She told us, her readers, to just watch and see how God was going to provide for her. I want you to watch and see how God will get the glory as He carries me through this dark time. I don’t think He’s going to answer all of my questions. I don’t expect to wake up one day and be okay with the fact my dad’s with Him and not here with me. But I know my God and I know if I let Him, He wants to use me to further His kingdom through this journey. He’ll get the glory whether I give it to Him or not. He’s God and the glory belongs to Him. But I think He wants to let me in on His story and let me be part of the process.  I think this will continue to be, as my people like to say, “a tough road to hoe,” but I believe great will be the harvest.

You want to know one little reason why I know I’m right to tell you to watch and see what the Lord’s going to do? Because I had completely forgotten until I looked for the post to link to it here that in Annie’s “Story of Trust” she quoted Lamentations 3:22-26.  Why is that a big deal? Well, those were my daddy’s verses. His favorite hymn was “Great is Thy Faithfulness.” We had those verses printed on the bracelets we had made to remind people to pray for my dad.

Whenever God does something big or small that lets me know He cares about what matters to me, I call it a “God hug.” I’ve really missed my earthly daddy’s hugs. He gave big, warm, strong, all-enveloping hugs. His first brain tumor and consequent surgery caused him to have weakness on his left side.  It has been a very long time since I’ve truly had one of my daddy’s best hugs. Finding those verses on a post I happened to link to tonight was like a hug from my heavenly father. I can’t even explain it to you, but I know He gets me.

I know this post has been lengthy and I know many of you look for blogs to read that are bright and shiny and happy. Well, I write to process my thoughts. I am mourning the loss of my sweet daddy and am grieving the loss of my life as I knew it. This blog will probably look a lot like my life does these days. Some times it will be light and fluffy with laughter and lollipops and rainbows (well, probably not the lollipops and rainbows). Sometimes it will be dark and messy and broody. But I will write what I know and what I’m living and if I am able, I will chronicle my walk through the valley of the shadow of death and back. I’ll try to warn you if a post is going to be about how I’m dealing with my grief by prefacing the title with the letters “MGO” (MY Grief Observed) in homage to one of my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis, who wrote the classic A Grief Observed. Trust me, I don’t fancy myself to be in the same league as Mr. Lewis, but I don’t think he would mind.

I would be remiss if I didn’t thank you all for your sweet comments, texts, Tweets, emails, and especially your prayers…….I may not have acknowledged them all but I didn’t take one single word for granted. I love words way too much to ever take them for granted, you know. I appreciate your support and encouragement through this journey and will continue to depend on them in the days to come.

This post first appeared on Snoodlings on November 2

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53 Comments

Filed under My Grief Observed

53 responses to “It May Be ‘Well With My Soul,’ But I Am Not Okay

  1. 1. I’m boo-hoo-ing.

    2. This was a beautiful post.

    3. The silent treatment is like second nature to me. I hate that. But God somehow sticks it out with me. He will with you too.

    4. Switchfoot has a new song called “Yet”. You need to hear it. My favorite line:
    “It’s when you’re breaking down with your insides coming out
    It’s when you find out what your heart is made up of”

    5. Praying for you.

    • whimzie

      Thanks, Annie. I just listened to that song. You were right; I needed to hear it. Thanks for being an honest, transparent blogger. I know I haven’t been a faithful commenter lately, but as long as you’re writing, I’m reading.

  2. All I can say is my heart breaks with you, friend.

    And if you ever find out how to not be sad about it anymore, you let me know. I think over time the pain isn’t quite as acute, but it’s chronic nonetheless. Maybe that’s not entirely helpful to say, but then again… what is?

    How bout I love you?

  3. Prayers are being said for you tonight my friend.

    I am not going to say “I understand,” for we all deal with a loss of a loved one in our own way. I am not going to say “time will heal,” for although the sting of pain might go away with time, the heart will always hurt a little, but what I will say is that I am praying for you and I’m here to listen and read what your hurting heart needs to say.

    And just like He listened to David cry and vent, God is listening to your heart’s cry too. We may never understand the “why?” in all things, but then that is what faith is all about…

  4. I can’t know what to say.

    but know that you’re not sad and mad all by yourself.

    you’re surrounded by sisters who love you so.

    xoxo

  5. Amy….What a beautiful honest post ….I was right where you are 3 years ago when my Dad, who had never spent a night in the hospital in his 79 years, (he was a 79 that was 60) was diagnosed with a vicious, ugly cancer and lived 8 months of HELL. The difference in my situation is I don’t know where he is…that’s a post in its self, then my healthy Mom fell on the day before his funeral going out to get the paper to read his obit, missed the funeral of the man she had been married to for 57 years and never recovered. She died 3 months to the day after he did. I went from having totally healthy parents and one year later, none. And it has only been this year that I think it has really hit me that they are gone…I think year one and two were a fog…I looked fine on the outside, but on the inside I was anything but. So go through every emotion you need to and let us walk beside you….

    I dearly loved your Dad….
    Love and hugs,
    Teresa

    • whimzie

      Oh, Teresa, I’m so sorry. I’ve noticed that when people who have lost a parent have talked to me about their loss it doesn’t really seem to matter whether their loss was two months ago or twenty years ago, the emotions of that experience are usually very close to the surface. Grief is such a strange thing. I’m sorry that this year has been hard for you.

  6. This was beautiful and honest and it resonated deeply.

    You’ve been on my heart all week.

  7. Renae

    I’ve thought of you often over the last week.
    Still praying,
    Renae

    • whimzie

      Amber, Renae, Mich….Thanks, friends.

      Mer, you know you’ve been on my heart and mind this “first holiday” as well.

      Love you guys.

  8. Joy R. Hanley

    I just finished reading your blog and I felt compelled to share something with you that I wrote a few years ago. I dug under my bed…found a few fuzz balls and some matchbox cars and my old journal. The green fabric one with the tear stains on the cover (literally). I will share a little from the June 27, 2003….(almost 6 months to the day after losing Matthew).
    ….EVERY EMOTION IS SO PALE NOW! ALL THE TIME!! There are time when I almost “feel” normal, but at the end of the day…away from people…away from the world…at home…sadness…emptiness..!!! I will never be the same. I looked at a picture just tonight of me, Bud, Lauren and myself dated 12-01. I knew the picture was “before Matthew”, because I could tell by my smile. Somehow now there is something missing. Something is missing all the time. Something that is lost and you just know you will never find again! “Before Matthew” “After Matthew”…two very different worlds!
    Before, I thought I knew what it was to lose someone….someone so close that you feel a part of you is also forever gone. To be so grieved over the lose of someone that you are physically sick! So saddened that you find day to day function difficult. I thought I had finally hit that wall in October of 1999 when Nanny died. When Nanny died she truly took a part of me. There was a void there and still is in my heart and life. I thought it would be hard to ever grieve over the lose of anyone like that again, except for Mom or Dad. Whew…how wrong I was!! I find it difficult to grieve for Nanny now. I find myself almost thankful she wasn’t here to lose Matthew too! Sad that she never will know Lauren, but glad that she didn’t lose Matthew! I try to tell myself that she knows Matthew as her great-grandson, but I don’t claim to understand all about heaven, therefore I can’t feel allot of peace at that thought. I don’t feel a great deal of comfort in anything dealing with his lose. Most times I really would rather not even talk about it out loud. Somehow making the thoughts audible is just too real! Too hard ! I keep these thoughts locked away in my most private place. Never letting this show! It’s awful! The “after Matthew” me is someone I don’t know very well, but I am learning. There are some things I don’t like to see! There are some dark parts of me that I am not proud of. The anger! Some weaknesses, some flaws that are only now somehow manifested after the lose of my son. There are also some other things I see in me beginning to magnify as well. These things seem to show a side less harsh, more understanding, more humble, sympathetic, and soft. Not real good traits to expose to the harsh day to day life experience! CRUSHED is how I would stay! People don’t except or know how to deal with a weakened person of such nature. They don’t want you that way! You’ll hear all the old cliche’ like “things happen for a reason”, ” things will get better with time”, “tomorrow is another day”, ! Blah-blah-blah! No one really wants to listen to me! No one wants to listen when you’re down and out, especially when you could turn into a blubbering idiot at any second, during any conversation with any person at any given time! Most folks just don’t want to make themselves available for all that baggage. I therefor simply choose to keep things to myself and try to stay out of the fray.

    ……..sometimes I can’t believe he’s really gone! It seems like a terrible dream! Really gone forever! I wish that I could just wake up! Wake up! It never really happened! If only that could be true. I am angry with God for not protecting my son from death. I am angry that for 2 weeks while I laid on back doing everything I could to save his little life….praying and begging God for a miracle that I now feel like he has let me down! So much sadness and overwhelming grief!

    ….At any given time during the day I think of him and I cry. I will never hold him again! He is truly GONE from ME forever! The tears that fill my eyes have filled an ocean and yet still they come! Streaming!! Running down and landing on my sheets just like they have a million time since December 18, 2002. Silently my heart will ache for him always! My physical pain has long been gone, a mere mist. The pain now is so deep, so deep. Even time can’t reach it to completely heal! The empty ache of my empty arms fills me up. I will never know you Matthew! You will never know me! You will never know your daddy who lives you so, or your big sister Lauren. Sadness hangs in the shadows of each day haunting me and Bud like a lost ghost…always searching, yet never finding peace. I pray that time can ease the loneliness in me and give me a little peace. I pray for the peace to pray again! I pray already for the forgiveness of being so mad with God that I don’t seek his comfort now. I am being most childlike in my selfish behavior I admit, but I am only human. I still have questions as to the why, and why nots. I have so much to be thankful for and I am ashamed! Ashamed that allot of the times now I don’t feel thankful!

    This part from 6 later in Feb. 2004

    ….as time goes by I pray more often now. I look inward allot too! Checking to make sure I honor God, and honor Matthew too. Not make him the reason I fall apart, but the reason I become better somehow. NOT HAPPIER! NOT BETTER OFF! But, better on the inside. More giving of time and talent. More excepting and more patience. Better because I continue to rise from the ashes. Better because I am praying myself that way. I can’t do this alone! This is a one on one with me and God for sure! Sometimes friend and sometime he feels like a foe, but I always know he is God! He is there for me even when I don’t want him, and think that I don’t need him and am ashamed to face him. Always there to catch me when I fall. Always there, holding me! Never letting me go! So many days I have wanted nothing more than to just let go. There have been nights that wouldn’t end…days without hours to measure, and yet all the while He was there. Waiting on me no matter the time or distance between us.

    Without you in my life there is less of me. Without you in my life there is no we! You help me make peace in a rat race, mean and hard world. You and me can God! You and me will God!! You and me can make it! You and me can make a difference.

    These are ramblings from a grief sick individual and there are not very pleasant to share. I just found so many parallels in our words that I felt I had to share. No cliche’ here. Time is the greatest healer, and I think this is true only because God is there no matter the time. Always waiting. This year in just a few days Matthew will be 7 years old. He grows into a beautiful young man in my mind, and I hold him in my heart in a very special place. My arms still ache for him. My heart still breaks. The grief is still heavy like a winter coat on most days, and that’s ok. It is well with my soul! I pray for him to stay that way. Always stay heavy on my heart, just grow a little lighter as the days grow shorter until we are together again. I hope something in these words comforts you today and make you feel less guilty for the range of emotions that continue to wash over you, sometime only moments apart. You are in my prayers. You too are heavy on my heart as I share in your grief. I love you.

    • whimzie

      Wow, Joy. Thanks for sharing such a fragile, honest part of your journal. And I believe Matthew has made you a better person. I think of all you and Bud have done with Matthew’s Hope….all the lives that have been made better by your generosity. And I know that even though you’re going on with life, you don’t miss Matthew any less than you did seven years ago. I know this is a difficult time of year for you guys. Thanks for walking us through our tough time, too. Love you, Cuz.

  9. Lisa@LittleSliceOfLife

    Love you, Whimz.

    I recently read “Disappointment with God” by Philip Yancey and found it very comforting to know I wasn’t alone in being angry at God. And while it doesn’t offer solutions (for there aren’t any, really) it does give a glimpse of the mind and heart of God. Read it when you’re ready. It took me about 6 months to decide I didn’t want to be angry anymore. And I still am angry periodically. But maybe less often.

    Praying comfort for you and your family.

  10. I am just so glad to hear words from you…knowing that you are able to get words out is great, no need for them to be happy/shiny…it’s always been your honesty and heart that I love…

    My Mama Lou (grandmother) always says “if you make it to the end of the day and you’re still livin’, then you’ve accomplished much for that day”….

    Be gracious to yourself, SnoodleFriend. I love you muchly.

  11. You are a brave woman. I have been where you are at. I completely and totally understand. I applaud your honesty and your frankness.

  12. This is so honest and transparent and I love you so much for it. I think you are like David. So often I read the psalms and go – “yeah – you just said what I feel that I didn’t even know I really felt.”

    I cant pretend that I feel the same as you right now, but there is definitely something in your words that resonates with my soul. I think that I am probably hiding some anger towards God down in inside of me somewhere that I don’t really even know about, and that I am too busy right now to dig out.

    Just want to say that I think you are a blessing, and I am glad to have found you online. Can’t wait to meet you in real life someday, even if its not till we get to Heaven.

  13. Alex

    Even as you are raw and hurting I am reminded again that God has given you such an incredible gift of words. I am thankful that you have the courage and the energy to share. The loneliness will continue. It will get worse, then it will get a tiny bit better. It takes a long time. And I will say it, you will never be the same. But it will be okay. I love you so much, my friend.

  14. Sami

    It is ok to grieve. It is necessary. It is vital. It is part of it. It is ok to be mad, to wonder, to ask questions. He knows that we will do this. That’s why He gives us comfort, His words, His strength.
    He gave us a human nature. He knows that it will rear its ugly head from time to time. But He loves us anyway. He understands…He gets it. He knows where we hurt, how we hurt and why we hurt. Even better than we do. And He gets it. He’s patient with us. And I think He loves us even more for it. Because there are times during it that we cling so tightly to Him that He gets to completely envelope us with Himself in ways that we don’t normally allow ourselves to receive. And at the end of it? We have a beautifully broken Love story.

  15. Angie

    Amy, I am sooo sorry about your dad. I have never been where you are and can not even imagine your grief. I love that you are completely open and honest! I believe there are times we all question God and give him the silent treatment, but He loves us anyway and is always there with open arms when we are ready for that too. I am praying for you and your family.

  16. Thank you for sharing, friend. There is no right or wrong, no shoulds or shouldn’ts. We wish he were here, too. Because we’d do just about anything for you. Praying. xxxooo

  17. Rebecca Marchbanks

    Thanks for being real…I’ve been grieving with you my friend.

  18. I hate that you have to say the words “my dad” and “funeral” in the same sentence. Tears in my eyes for you. I love you, Whimz.

  19. Amy, I’m not sure how to blog (or comment) since my experience only lies in my words recorded at http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/willpatton. But, I do want to say that you are an amazing writer and I love every single word that you write… words that pour out emotions felt with the heart, with your heart… a heart that beats honestly before its Maker. ~I’ve been reading Lineage of Grace by Francine Rivers and I’m learning about honesty. By looking behind the veil, into the lives of these women, I have new perceptions of lives that others see only on the surface without thinking through what all goes on in the minds and souls of those we think we know so well. Anyway, I just wanted to say how much I pray for you and hurt for you and re-live my own daddy’s passing beside you. I also think back and forward to Will’s struggles and potential struggles… I’m surely not very good about letting others see my ugliness… maybe a pride thing, maybe not an ‘allowed thing’ from those closest to me. But, I do greatly appreciate you bearing it all. Like David, I think of being in the depths of life, in the valley of the shadow of death, but unlike David, I do fear evil (ie: cancer, neurofibromatosis type1, etc.). I fear lots of stuff… not ultimately, but in the now of life. I hope I am not rambling. I also hope I can find my way back here and read more of what you write and what you have written. I must go tend to my 3 boys for now… Love you much! ~Jen

  20. I don’t have words.

    But know that you’re in my thoughts. And my prayers. And am brutally appreciative of your honesty. And know that our God is, too.

  21. Amy,

    We have been praying for you and your family. We love you and are lifting you up to the Father. So thankful that we serve a God that is “big enough” for all our emotions.

    R

  22. I’m so glad that you published this. You continue to be in my thoughts and prayers. I remember a time when I was grieving….just being in the grocery store was so hard….everyone was going about their business. I wanted to shout..”don’t you realize what just happened in my life….why are you all so happy? I felt like the sadness would never end…that I would never be able to go grocery shopping without crying again and I felt so alone. This probably did not make a lot of sense, but it’s what came to mind. What you wrote made me think of the feelings that I had back then. Grief is impossible to put into words.

  23. thank you for being honest, even when it’s hard. i know that your words and your heart are beautiful – and i enjoy reading them and feeling like i can see and share a little bit of your life and journey, even when things aren’t exactly “peachy” — because honestly, my life is a big mess more often than not – and I am grateful for those people who admit to hurting and being angry when they have every right to feel that way. I’m so proud and humbled by your trust in God’s goodness, but I am also encouraged deeply (and i just know he wants to hear all about it) that it’s not always easy for you to trust in that!

  24. I don’t know what to say except that I’m so blessed to read your honesty here. You’ve shared a good, and very hard, lesson more honestly than most share some simple lesson in life.

  25. You know, one thing that I learned from my mother’s passing was how to realistically relate to others who have lost love ones.

    I wish I could say it will get better. But it won’t. At least for a while.

    This Christmas will suck.
    The first Father’s Day will suck.
    Just about every family birthday this year will suck.

    My mom’s been gone for 13 years now, and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish she were here. But the happy remembrances of her far outnumber the sadness now. It just took a while.

    Wow, I’m a real pick-me-up today, eh? OK, time for some levity, told to me by somebody else who had lost a loved one. I now pass it along to you.

    It seems everybody you know will say something like “Please let me know if there is anything I can do.” I guess they really don’t know what else to say, so they say that. Well, several days after my mother passed away (and after I was really tired of hearing that statement), I started just replying “Well, do ya have 20 bucks?”

    You would not believe the reactions that got. Lots of stammering. A few actually got out their wallets. But mostly, it diffused that awkward moment and gave everybody an excuse to laugh.

    Take care of yourself and your family. You all continue to be in our prayers.

    • whimzie

      Thanks for the “out loud” laugh, NotNed. Now I actually can’t WAIT for someone to ask me if there’s anything I can do!!

  26. Well, I’ve typed and deleted too many times to count. I just don’t have words that don’t sound trite.

    Thanks for your honesty.

  27. I believe in you Amy; I truly truly do.

  28. I had someone die close to me…I remember sometimes the pain was so deep…I couldn’t breathe…

    no words can express your sadness…

    your honesty is good…we need more of that!

    sandy toe

  29. Well said. Love the honesty and I know from experience that God will not fall off the throne when we’re mad at Him. If I were Him, I would have killed me a long time ago were that the case. 🙂

    We love ya.

    • whimzie

      Thanks to all of you for the kind words and for affirming that it’s okay to be honest here. I appreciate that I have a safe place here.

  30. Caught your post linked from Twitter via LinkedIn – amazing how some conversations online just come out of nowhere to your attetion.

    My father passed away in Summer of 2000 in a car accident on the way to work. To this day, nothing hurts more than the memory of coming home (from college) that fall for Thanksgiving, wanting to tell him of something I had in mind, and realizing when I walked into his bedroom that he wasn’t there.

    Thanksgiving has absoutely been the hardest season for me ever since. Its only been in the last 2 years that I’ve been able to get though most of it without getting sad, angry, and a ton of other emotions that I keep wanting to go away.

    Am I ok now? No.

    Reading your post brought back more feelings than anything I can write in a comment could explain. I was comforted then by God speaking to me, and those words now remain: “he’s taught you all that he could, I’m your Father. Learn from me…”

    …I hope. Sincerly, and above anything else that I could muster to type, I hope that you have a means to be comforted this holiday season and in those to come.

    And if you aren’t ok with life years from now, that’s ok. There are some kinds of saddnesses that take time to heal, I’ve learned that over the years. There are feelings that are right to have, even 9 years later about those whom you’ve loved, but never got to “finish” loving them.

    Keep loving your dad, you will honor his memory in happiness and grief both.

    Thank you for the reality check, and heart check. I needed this post, and its comments.

  31. Mercy Me has a song that ministered to me when I was grieving. It’s called HOMESICK. You might want to check youtube or my blog. I posted it there few hours ago.

    “And then everyone went home.
    And life never even missed a day.
    And I am not okay.”

    When I read that, it felt like I was reading what I just wrote yesterday night. I know exactly what you’re talking about. Thanks for the honesty.

  32. janetober

    Love your honesty!
    Really love it – it’s refreshing and real!

    I’m so sorry for the loss of your sweet dad! I do wish he was still here with you and your family to celebrate Christmas with all of you.

  33. Pingback: Fiesta of Fabulous Forty-ness Day One: The ‘Authors Rock!’ Giveaway « Snoodlings

  34. Marie

    Almost exactly two years ago my mother in law’s earthly body died from a long bout of cancer. A few days later we were forced to “celebrate” her birthday and then a few weeks later it was Thanksgiving, and then of course Christmas…the Christmas my kids still laughingly label as the worst Christmas ever as we were travelling with my grieving father-in-law for 18 hours and nothing but gas stations were open. I completely understand the concept of “it may be well with my soul, but I am not okay”. It makes perfect sense!!

    Hang in there! And I am excited to see what the Lord is doing/going to do in your life! He is always (always!) up to something amazing!!

  35. I love the honesty in this post.

    I don’t have any wonderful words that will fix how you feel, nor can I even begin to understand it but I am so glad that you know you’re mad at God and that you’re pouting.

    I know that, as with all pouting, one day it will pass – and God’s big enough to deal with it until then!

  36. Grief: that thing that makes everything real, that denies what isn’t real because it must. We can’t fight the truth. Grief’s only solace can be found in the Truth-Who-is-a-Person.

    “I want you to watch and see how God will get the glory as He carries me through this dark time. I don’t think He’s going to answer all of my questions. I don’t expect to wake up one day and be okay with the fact that my dad’s with Him and not here with me. But I know my God and I know that if I let Him, He wants to use me to further His kingdom through this journey.”

    I wish I’d known you when I began my own journey this way.

  37. The emotions and honesty in this post touched me deeply.

    Thanks for sharing such a personal story, and I pray your pain is eased!

  38. Wow! Very powerful post. It sounds like you are in the confusing-in-between stage in your journey. Your post reminds me of Job. Job waited a LONG time even though those closest to him quit. Job’s friends didn’t have the patience to wait in the confusing in-between. They wanted the quick fix and they were VERY quick to pass judgment and offer advice to Job. They had no thoughts on how God might be at work in Job’s situation. Instead of making Job feel better they made him feel worse.

    We need to wait and trust God in the confusing in-between. We don’t know how long the hurt will last. We don’t know how God is going to turn that hurt into something for His glory and our good. We just need to be still and wait …

  39. The depth of anger at the absence of life is a measure of your love. The anger eventually will time itself out. Your love will remain.

    May peace be with you.

  40. i love you.

    and i’m really good at angry, if you want someone to spit some fire with.

    also, i’m praying for you.
    (Yes, Annelle, I pray! Well, I do! There, I said it, I hope you’re satisfied.)

  41. Old Friend~ dc

    Wow! Amazing….
    I haven’t experienced what you have this last year, but I knew it couldn’t be easy! I don’t watch sad movies, read sad books, or watch the news without it truly bothering my soul. (I guess I thought something was wrong with me. I dreamed about the little girl who was killed last night from Haughton.) Again, what is wrong with me?
    I think that the more you love, the more you hurt. It has to be true! So, I’m praying for ya and loving you, and I know over time we will see something wonderful. But until then, I love you~ one day at a time…..

  42. I wanted to share another blog entry with you from a friend from our church in Monticello who lost her dad last week. We also had a young church member here lose their dad this past week. I’ve forwarded your entry to each of these for encouragement.

  43. Pingback: Hello, My Name is Whimzie….And I’m a Chronic Read-the-Bible-Through-Program Dropout « Snoodlings

  44. This is one of the best posts on grief I’ve ever read. Thank you for writing it and sharing it.

  45. Amy

    I could have written this word for word several years ago. Thank you for pushing “publish”.
    The grief journey is long and I guess that’s alright. It doesn’t mean it’s easy though.

  46. I don’t know if you’ll ever read this – I know this post is several months old. I am the lady that Jeff linked you to, and I just went back to torture myself by reading my own blog post when my dad died, and found your comment.

    I was wondering how you’re doing now. I always wonder where other people are on their “grief journey” as compared to me.

    I went for a month feeling fairly normal last month. For the first time since his death. This month, for some reason, I’ve cried a lot. Been really sad a lot. Missed him too much to function. I’m so tired – still. How are you holding up? Prayers for you!

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