Many people in grief are afraid to honestly share lest they be viewed as mentally unstable.  We’re not mentally unstable. We’re not in denial.   We’re walking our  walk through the valley of the shadow of death.  We’ll come out on the other side.  In the meantime……

Most mornings and most nights I stop and look at Loren’s larger- than- life picture mounted on the wall near our bedroom door.  That is, the large picture that was displayed at the front of the church at his memorial service a year ago April 2015.  My man looks so stately in that picture.  When I mounted it on the wall, just days after the service, I declared out loud, “You still are the patriarch of this home and I’ll always love you.  I know a house is just a physical place on earth but this picture belongs here so I can see you as I come and go”.

Sometimes I  stand and smile lovingly into his eyes with a smile on my face, feeling peaceful.  Some days I stand and say, “I’ll always love you.”  It’s the next best thing to having him here.

Today I couldn’t smile.  In fact, I couldn’t see his facial features because my eyes were blurry with tears.  Memories simply aren’t enough.

Some days I briefly tell him, “Honey, I’m home!”  Of course I know he’s not in our home but I think I say those words for myself.  To hear my voice speaking to someone as I enter our home after a day at work.  And to have said those words is enough.  Enough for then, at least.

Months back a thought flitted through my mind as I stopped to smile at his face.  “Wouldn’t it be amazing if this picture was a  portal?  An open place between heaven and earth where he and I could see each other and just briefly sense each other?”   Of course I knew this was highly unlikely but that thought comforted me somehow.  Non-the-less, I feel a draw when I stand in front of that picture. I’ve discovered something new:  so does my 13 month old grandson who has never met his grandfather here on earth!!  He smiles and literally giggles out loud when he is lifted in front of that picture…while reaching his hands upward and forward to touch his beard.  You’d have to see it to believe it!

Tonight I’m going to step out on to the deck. I’m going to reach my hands up towards the stars in the heavens and say, “Even though I can’t be with you, dear husband and only one I love, I know where you are and Whom you are with.  I sorrow for myself but I rejoice for you, for YOU are with your Maker!”

“So God, I know the pain is just for a moment in the scope of eternity.  Keep giving me the necessary perspective to grow through grief. ”

QUESTION:  Can you name other things that you’ve seen people in grief do ~ as their way of helping them go through the process of letting go and moving forward?