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The thing about grief . . . Part 7

January 18, 2013

Originally, I thought that I was going to write a 6 part series on grief, but twice I woke up and clearly God had something other than what I had planned ready to go.  Trust me; His ideas are always better than mine; so here we are with at least a couple more parts.

Since we chose to bury Reed near his Grandpa Earl in North Dakota, we had to drive the 430 miles to the cemetery.  It was our first time out in the larger world since 10 days prior when my whole life changed.  I don’t remember the item we needed on the trip home, but I do remember how out of body the experience seemed.  We stopped at the Super Target in Grand Forks.  I remember standing by the carts at the entrance when suddenly I had to grip the cart corral.  I watched as everyone in the store flit about, going on as normal.  I wanted to scream at them all. They moved around like ants marching in fast forward in a world of pointless errands.  Everything around me was spinning.  My only thought was how can they not all see how sad I am.  Then the worse thought crept in. They really could see the gigantic hole in my heart, but they didn’t care.  I wanted to know when it would be that I could move around again with no worries or cares in the world.

The honest truth was it took months to even feel human.  Even though we continued forward with life, it took that long before I didn’t feel shell-shocked.  But the verse Psalm 30:5 is true, “Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.”  It wasn’t literal for me in this case, but there came a time that I did reenter society – shopping at the store, attending school functions, and getting my hair done.

The thing I remember most vividly is the first time I really laughed.  I honestly thought I would never do that again.  I had a few giggles at the memorial service where kids who loved Reed shared a few great stories.  If I could earn gold medal in worrying, I would be, at the very least, a silver medalist in laughter.  I love to laugh, always have. It is something that I inherited from my mom, and have passed on to my own kids.  When my heart was ripped into pieces and my whole being was exhausted dealing with two injured children, laughter looked like something that had left without me.

Then one day several weeks after the crash, I was waiting for the sweet family that was bringing us supper that day.  Sawyer was sitting in his recliner watching television.  Normally, I wouldn’t have let him watch this show, but at that point, he was still writhing in pain 23 out of every 24 hours.  So, if watching The Simpson’s kept his mind of losing his brother/best friend (not to mention his own losses), I wasn’t going to declare a war on inappropriate television.

While sitting there, the opening of the show had a postcard arrive in the mail.  Marge looks at the scenic side of the postcard.  At first, I missed the sarcasm.  But when it sank in to my numbed brain, I began to laugh.  I laughed so hard that I trembled.  Tears rolled down my cheeks.  It was at that moment that I knew I would be able to laugh again.  I realized that “joy had arrived in the morning”.  I wasn’t betraying Reed by being happy or laughing.  I didn’t feel guilty laughing at the snarky card. Simply, I enjoyed good humor.

Exhausted, yes!  Overwhelmed, absolutely! Edgy humor, definitely inappropriate! Beginning to feel that I would laugh again, amazing!

It was a simple start, but it was a baby-step beginning to normalcy.  I did an internet search just the other day on that episode.  Sadly, I couldn’t find it in English, but it is available on Youtube in a language I don’t even recognize.  It really isn’t all that funny, but for whatever reason, it sent me into uproarious laughter.

Maybe you had to have been her.

No copyright infringement intended.  All rights reserved to the owners of The Simpson’s.

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