Sharing Time Together

This weekend, we took my aging parents to visit my mom's sisters.  Right now, everyone is healthy.  They're aging okay.  All of them may struggle with health issues now and again, but they're all doing okay.  For now. 

But I've lost.  I know that just because you can hug them today doesn't mean you'll still have them tomorrow.  I know that you need to take advantage of every chance you can to spend with those you love because, as the saying goes, tomorrow is not promised.  You can't know how many hugs you'll get before they're gone.  The recent brush with loss concerning my dad brought that home once again. 

I know we'll be family beyond this life.  But in order for forever families to mean anything, we need to build relationships today.  So we drove for miles to get together with my aunt.  I wish we would have had time to meet up with my other aunt, who lives near the one we visited, or my husband's aunt, who lives near another place we went.  Next time.  For now, I choose to focus on the moments we got to cherish bonding with and helping my kids bond with family.  And I choose to be thankful for what I have rather than brooding on what I didn't get or what I've lost. 

The Roller Coaster of Healing

The last couple of days, I've been listening to a conference about many things spiritual.  As usual, the topics that stand out to me are those about loss.  It often strikes me about how quickly some people seem to spring back from loss.  Some people can talk in a calm voice, often even a smile, just after they've lost someone close to them.  It almost seems like some people don't need healing because they've accepted so fully that families are forever that death is just part of life.  They understand that the Lord overcame death.  Death, for them, has no sting. 

Others I have heard of or seen are so crippled by their loss that they can't even function.  Every day seems like a burden.  Every step or thought or breath hurts because all of that is done in the absence of the one they have lost.  They feel like their hearts struggle to beat in the presence of a bloody hole so vast, so painful, that there is no such thing as healing.  Their hearts feel broken forever. 

Sometimes, I wonder if I've failed in my faith that I'm not among the first, that eight and a half years after my angel took wing isn't enough for me to achieve complete healing.  However, then I remember that everyone is an individual, that grief (and the intentional mourning process that comes with it) is not going to be the same for even two people, let alone everyone.  It's okay that death has a sting.  Sometimes, I feel my heart's bloody hole even now.  Most of the time, I have peace.  But, there are days when it's all about that bloody hole.  There are days when my hysterical tears wrack my body and leave me exhausted.  And, it's okay.  Grief is what it is.  It's a crazy roller coaster of emotions that are unpredictable and often uncontrollable.  Feeling okay most of the time is not a betrayal of my angel.  It's an achievement.  Does that mean I've healed all the way?  I don't think there is such a thing, not in this lifetime.  Full healing won't happen until Alli is back in my arms.  For now, I'll take peace most of the time and try to wait patiently for the day when we're back together.