| I wonder how many grains of sand are in an hour glass. Has anyone ever counted them? Does every hour glass contain the same number of grains? Does someone somewhere have a job title of "Sand Grain Counter"? I wonder about all sorts of mundane things these days because it keeps my mind off my grief. I wonder if I will ever get beyond the pain. How many grains of sand must pass through the hour glass before the hurting stops? How long will the pain last? I wonder why I never took the time to stop and appreciate the little things I had before they were taken from me. Was I really that busy? What did I have in my life that was so much more important? There are so many things I miss that I took for granted while she was alive. What I wouldn't give to bring just one minute of it back. I miss hearing her shoes shuffling as she moved across the room, never fully lifting her feet from the floor. I miss listening to her talk non-stop about something she thought was important, but I did not. I miss how she was always waiting with a glass of ice cold tea for me when I finished mowing the grass. I can still taste her iced tea. I remember how refreshingly sweet it tasted on a hot summer day as the sweat ran down my back. I get angry because I can never make a glass of tea taste that good ever again. I miss having someone who has a history with me, so memories can be shared without reciting the entire event. Just a basic comment and we could both burst into laughter just from the memory. She was the witness to my own life and history, the note taker who my my existence real. I miss her hugs and the shampoo smell of her hair. I miss her laughter. That twinkle she would get in her eyes. She could never laugh without tears. She called them tears of joy. Sometimes she could find humor in the simplest things. It's almost as if it were her sole duty in life to find things that would make me laugh. I miss the joy she created in our home. Grief hurts. It makes my throat dry, my eyes burn, my stomach ache and hurts my heart. I'm constantly amazed that the broken heart inside my chest still keeps on beating. It feels like there's a hole in my heart and all my hopes and dreams fell out of it, leaving a giant void I'll never be able to fill. I struggle to avoid filling it with guilt, anger or despair. Grief is a result of wanting her so badly and knowing I can no longer have her with me. My head knows she is gone, but my heart says I'm not ready to let her go yet. These two pieces of me need to have a serious discussion with each other, for I know that only when they can come to an agreement will I ever again be sane. Distractions keep my mind off my grief during the day, but the nighttimes are the worst. Sudden waves of grief seemingly come out of nowhere when I least expect it. A word. A memory. It all comes flooding over me. I can only try to cope one moment at a time, and sometimes that seems impossible. I'm still in shock over the finality of her death. The permanancy of it. Death doesn't abide by any of our terms. It's final. No reprieves, no parole, no second chances. Once the curtain is down, the show is over. No credits given. No bylines. No awards. If not for the memories in the minds of the audience, it's as if it never played. My torment mounts as I realize how much love I still have left inside of me, with no one left to take it. Then I realize with a sense of surprise that the love inside of me didn't die with her. It's still here. Waiting. My children still needs tons of this love, too. They are still here, even though for awhile I could see nothing but my own grief. I still have good friends and other family members close by. They are all takers and givers of this love. I still have my faith. And no love is greater than His. I find I even have to continue to give love to myself if I want to continue to exist. No matter how broken my heart may be, I am still capable of love. If I cannot eat or sleep, or concentrate, or make decisions, or find anything to get my mind off my grief for a little while, I can still love and be loved. Grief causes me to find the courage within myself to reach out to others who are also hurting. She left more than one of us behind. I'm not the only person in the world she ever connected with, cared for, or touched. I'm not the only one hurting over her leaving. In spite of myself, I feel better just being with other people she loved. It reaffirms to me that she truly did exist. It also reminds me that I still exist, too. I find that by keeping the love alive, I can also keep myself alive. Life is still worth living. My grief has only changed my expectations of life, not life itself. There is no way to measure how I'm dealing with my grief, but as I continue to love my family and friends and reach out to others, I will come through this. Although sometimes I feel so alone, I realize I can't make it through this life alone. I wonder how many sea shells are on the seashore. I wonder if all the sand on the beach is just ground up sea shells. Is there really any "sand" at the beach at all? I wonder if the sand in the hour glass is really made from ground up sea shells. |
| I Wonder ... |
| © Ferna Lary Mills |
 |
|
|
| A Christian Grief Ministry |
Rainbow Faith Home About Our Ministry Good Grief! Grief Poems & Stories Life After Loss Weekly Column Create a Memorial Memorial Directory Sympathy Gifts Site Map Archives Links Contact Us Guestbook |
100's of Inspirational Grief Poems and Stories. . |
 |