This morning, like the majority of my mornings of late, I lie in bed ignoring the signs of day coming through the window. Not forgetting the fact that my long run is way overdue, I shut off the alarm and returned to bed. Rolling over and pulling the blanket up farther, I willed myself back to sleep. This was not because I needed more sleep but rather because I didn’t want to face the day. Sadly, I’ve felt this way a lot lately.
By 8:30 am, I was awake once more, so made I way downstairs for coffee. It doesn’t seem to do much these days but it does help — even if just a little.
We managed to arrive at the 9:30 am mass just as the first song was being sung. Standing in my little pew at the back of the church, I glanced the front of the church to see Father Bob and immediately felt better. Of the 3 priests, Fr. Bob is my favorite.
When I first visited this church, it was Fr. Bob whose words drew me back week after week — until I called the church mine. Then month after month, we would sit in the pews: Me with tears streaming down my cheeks and YaYa holding my hand or patting my back. At church, we sing, we pray, and we say hello to Tom.
It’s been weeks since I’ve managed to attend church. Although the days of crying through mass are rare, today was a day of many tears. As I sat, stood, kneeled, and cried, I realized that another cycle in my grief journey is approaching. Three short years ago, was when Tom began complaining of neck and shoulder pain.
Sifting through my old blog entries today, I noted that I only blogged about running. You’d never know what else was going on in my life. Although I let it slip that I had cried all the way to work for some unmentioned reason, it wasn’t until the 1st trip to the ER that I mention anything about the reason for my being chronically tired. It’s funny that I feel equally as tired these days. Even after the 2nd visit to the ER, I mentioned very little about what was going on. And still the blogosphere reached out to me.
Compassion was what Fr. Bob spoke of today: Giving and receiving. One thing that came to mind was YOU. It was more than a little compassion when perfect strangers posted photos all over the blogosphere for me; it was overwhelming. So too was the compassion that came from people in the community who banned together to offer support in other ways.
I have truly been on the receiving side of compassion since Tom’s passing. And STILL, I have trouble getting out of bed. When will it end?
The answer is never. Grieving a loss like this is a lifetime thing…but it will get better.
I have no idea what new level of healing I will tackle as I journey through this next cycle. No doubt, it won’t be easy. Yet I know that I will be better for going through it. I just need to take it one step at a time.
And what better way than with a few miles, or so, in the rain…and a little donation to those in Haiti. My worries don’t even measure up to what those folks must be going through.