Saturday, September 20, 2014

Good Grief


I think I only blog when something dramatic happens...

And have the last 2 weeks ever been dramatic!

Sunday afternoon, my time 2 weeks ago, I got an email from my Dad asking if I wanted to Skype late Sunday night, their time. Knowing that generally I'm the one who sets up Skype conversations, and we had just Facetimed the week before, I knew something was up.

I checked my email for a reply to my reply Monday morning, my time, but there wasn't one. As long as I'm logged onto the Internet, I thought I might as well check Facebook. The first five posts in my feed were from four cousins stating that my friend and cousin, Josh, had been killed in a tractor accident.

Cue the screaming and crying alone in my house in Papua New Guinea. This was followed by calling a friend, who prayed with me, and calling another friend who is my go-to during all events of a dramatic nature. I went over to her house and cried some more. In the principal's office I cried. I shared my surreal news all day and cried. I went to chapel and cried. I told my students and cried. Josh and his family and my family are all I could think about all day and the next day and the next day.

Finally, Thursday, I could hold a different thought in my head for nearly an hour without thinking about our loss of Josh and the loss to my uncle's family, who have already faced too much loss.

Friday night was restless because my dog was up all night barking. I knew something was wrong as she only barks at other dogs or strangers. But, I was tired and I wanted sleep, so I ignored her. Saturday morning came too early (6:30) with our security service in my driveway assessing damage to the house closest to mine. I gave up the idea of sleeping in and began preparing swit kai (dessert) for a women's ministry event. I continued to watch the security personnel through my windows.

When I saw my neighbor come over to make his observations, I went out and asked if there had been a break-in. He said yes. I walked back into my house and had a full-on melt down. That's it! I don't want to be in PNG. I rocked on my bathroom floor crying, "I want to go home."

It's rare, but I've had twinges of this before. At Christmas time or when I separated my shoulder or when I Skype-in at Thanksgiving dinner and my brother scoops asparagus into his tablet screen, but those were all fleeting. This desire to go home is deep and painful, because I know I can't. Not right now, and that is all I want to do. I want to hold Josh's three sisters, my three cousins. I want them to hold me. I want to verbally tell my aunt and uncle, "I'm sorry," not send them some sympathy basket. I want to tell Josh's life partner, "You'll make it through this. Hang on.”

After a few minutes, I pull myself together and call a friend to come over and listen to me. She was kind enough to have sent one of those, "if you just need someone to sit with you, call me," emails earlier in the week, and I was upset enough to take her up on it.

I missed the women's ministry event, but the event at my house was just what I needed. My friend sat and listened to me for an hour or so and then I let her go. I let my dog, who doesn't come in the house, in, and placed a towel beside my bed. She finally settled on it, and we both took a 10 o'clock in the morning nap with all the doors locked.

I still haven't gotten to talk to my 3 cousins, besides Facebook comments and emails. I think the strongest pain I'm experiencing is in not being able to tell them just how sorry I am. Both what a sorry state I'm in, but also how much I'm grieving with them. How miserable I feel for them. I wish I could sit with them the way my friends sit with me. I wish I could go through the final good-byes of the visitation and memorial that are happening right now.

This grief is bizarre. It's not just for Josh, but selfishly, it's for me as well. I'm grieving this distance that separates us. I'm grieving the helplessness that looms over me all day long. Do I surrender to this feeling of hopelessness, knowing it will lessen eventually? Do I ignore it? Should I push it on everyone else in my life who don't know Josh?

They all know and understand and have experienced this bizarre grief. They are patient and kind to me, but they can't take this hurt right now, and I don't want them to. It's right and good to be in pain.

That is the good grief and I don't want it to be any other way.

This past week has been challenging, but I'm surviving well with much care from my friends and co-workers and peace from our Father and Lord. Plus a trip into town yesterday was a great distraction. I even got to try a new green.

Family, I’m loving and praying for you from afar.

2 comments:

  1. Emily, you articulate feelings so well. Bless you as you continue working through the grief you are experiencing. Thank you for serving a world away from home so missionary kids can have kind, caring, loving, competent teachers!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm praying for you, Sweet Emily. May our God continue to hold you close as you pour your heart out to him. Continue to lean on your dear friends there and your doggie, too. I'm so sorry for your loss. Sending virtual hugs. I love you very much! <3

    ReplyDelete