Spotting the Surface

The kids are downstairs blowing off steam in my vain hope we might have some reverence for Sunday. I can distantly hear Dora droning about picking the middle path, and, whining aside, I couldn’t agree more.

David is down in California, beginning the healing process that must follow losing someone you love. The funeral is over, many people have already scattered back to their lives, and now we pick up the pieces and carry on. Right? What other choice is there?

The kids have asked mercifully few questions, and I suspect they are simply finding dad’s absence typical of any business trip. I’m OK with that- and am thankful for the lack of hard questions. My well of answers is fantastically low at the moment.

Dimly, I am aware of other things going on in the world, and of painful happenings in others lives. My vision has been so focused and so myopic on my own catastrophes, it’s startling to look up and note where the world has moved on, or in some places, stopped. I’m thinking of NieNie, and C Jane, of course. It makes my own pain seem small. Add my prayers to the pile…

So, life carries on. Or it doesn’t, sometimes, does it? I don’t know how anyone manages without faith. I can’t grasp how senseless life and loss would be without a faith in something greater than the pain and sorrow of the physical world.

7 thoughts on “Spotting the Surface

  1. When my husband’s best friend died unexpectedly, we did our best to surround our friend, his widow. She told us that the best thing she could find for herself was to live for the next five minutes. A week later, it was 10 minutes, and now, 2 years later, it’s a day or two at a time. Life does go on, maybe not how we want or had planned, but it does. Looks like you’re handling things as best you can. Good for you. You’re in my prayers.

  2. I was recently walking with my DH and discussing some of your story with him. While some might dismiss faith as being our desperate attempt to make sense of things, I strongly believe that those moments of comfort and peace are real.

    Faith put to the test is truly awesome and I admire your strength.

  3. I remember a day, filled with trauma, sitting staring out the window of the hospital and watching a mail man.

    The mail was going today? TODAY? How could the world keep going round and round? My world was pear shaped.

    I am sorry for the pain and heartache, going on. May you find peace, somewhere.

  4. Boy, that is sure an understatement isn’t it? “I don’t know how people go on without faith.” It seems to really sum up so much of what you are going through. We are here with you.

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