Grief and Grace
I miss you. I wish you were here to tell me that I am a writer and that it is hard, but to keep at it. Here to tell me I’m a good mom and I’m doing a wonderful job and to keep at it. I can’t catch my breath this morning, can’t take in a full deep breath since you passed. My life is different. There is a gap. A gap where my cheerleader, coach, mentor and encourager stood. There ready willing and able to genuinely give me a pep talk on any given day when I needed it. Gone. I feel that loss. Especially on days when I fight my inner critic and when the fear of failure is too much and overwhelming, those are the days I miss your voice the most. It hurts.
As Thanksgiving nears next week, I remember your big smile and the blue ruffled button up you wore every year for Thanksgiving and Christmas, gone now never to be seen again except in pictures. My breath is taken away. The leaves are falling here in Texas, Autumn isn’t near as beautiful here as it is in Illinois, but I love it here. Its new and fresh and no reminders of you…the good or the bad, on a daily basis, only the memories I choose to think about or the pictures I choose to cry over. How can I miss someone so bad that caused me so much pain? My only inkling is grace. Grace for the moment of my grief and mourning for the moments in my life when you were being who God created you to be. I hope my kids will have that for me too.
You had ample amounts of time fulfilling your selfish desires and making my life hard, to say the least, but you also had moments of making my life memorable and enjoyable, filled with precious lasting memories. I will cherish them, all my days. That’s what makes grieving days so difficult. You weren’t all bad, even though you made lasting bad choices that negatively impacted my life. Choices that distorted what I thought to be true and real. You cracked the pedestal I had put you upon. But today I miss you. I miss your smile; I miss your encouragement and the smell of your cologne. I even miss you blowing your nose into your handkerchief you carried in your back pocket. That’s gross. No one does that anymore, but I miss it. I miss walking through the woods with you listening to songbirds and crows cawing, identifying animal tracks and watching for deer. I miss the joy you brought to my life. I only wish it was all real and authentic, which is what makes the grieving process that much more difficult because there was so much more to you. Not just who you pretended to be to me but the person who caused me pain as well. But for today I’m going to grieve the man I loved and cherished. I miss you “grandpa.”