There is a grief for the dead, but also a grief for the living.
Grief with the dead encompasses the physical loss of our loved one.
It is the death of many things—who they would have been, where they should be, and what they are missing out on.
My grief for Millie is a grief for the dead. My physical loss of her is devastating. My loss of dreams for her—starting Kindergarten, losing her first tooth, riding a bike, graduation, marriage, babies, but mostly the relationship we would have had as adults. There is much grief wrapped up in that loss.
Grief for the dead also holds my memories, both of time spent together but also emotions and feelings of when I was with my little girl. Her scent, her soft skin, our many hours rocking together. Her birth, her death, and all the moments between. Her tantrums, her kisses, and her funny sense of humor.
This grief stabs you repeatedly when it catches you unaware. Small things bring it rushing in, blindsiding you and knocking you to your knees. Even so this grief I almost expect. Some days I have the feeling rise up in me that it is coming. I get a flash of understanding that the hard gut wrenching is just ahead as I bite my lip and prepare for the assault.
As a mama I never thought I would be walking through grief for the dead.
Grief for the living is different. When we birth children we somewhat expect heartaches to come up. Of course, we often say, “Oh my child will never…” but reality is that is usually the first thing they do. They seem to be drawn by the confidence we have as parents to stomp our hearts and forge their own path.
The living doesn’t always recognize the dangers that lay just ahead. They can’t believe that we parents are able to foresee the heartache, rather making themselves believe we are crimping their lives. Loss of a future, of this time in life, of a good name and of our protection are a few things that the living often throws aside, and a parent grieves deeply.
This type of grief is something we think we can hold back or change. We might plead or beg, cry or rage, talk and reason, all in the name of taming this grief. Yet many times it falls on deaf ears--on a heart bent on going its own way.
This grief is so heavy that it wearies your soul. It burdens your mind and troubles your heart. The grief feels similar to the grieving of the dead and yet the difference is that this grief can still contain hope. It offers a future if only eyes can be opened, and hearts can be turned. Until that time it gives a mama many hours to pray as she frets. It brings anguish, but also anticipation to see how the Lord will work this for good.
Grief for the living and grief for the dead are both heavy on a mama’s heart. As a mama to many children, I cling to the anticipation of seeing the living thrive and succeed despite the grief we have lived through as a family. I look forward to the day that my children become adults, wise and walking in the word of God. To know my job of mothering young children and teens has been successful despite the many prayerful tears and doubts. Oh, how I will miss them being little, but oh the joy of a job well done.
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☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★
I still believe in Millie’s Miracle
☆｡･:*:･ﾟ Hebrews 11:1 ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
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