Riptides and Memories...

I haven't written a post in a while.  It's certainly not because Lynda hasn't been on my mind.  I can't really explain the place I have been in the grieving process but I imagine some of you who have walked this road before me will understand.  Even though I have been able to express my thoughts and feelings about Lynda and all that was and is associated with her, there came a time about Christmas that I just could not do it any more.  I felt like I was in the movie "A Christmas Carol" where the three ghosts were visiting Scrooge and he was being shown the Christmas of Christmas Past.  He told the spirit to remove him because he could not bear it any more.

Especially at Christmas I have such bittersweet memories and while I wouldn't take anything for each one,  I found especially this Christmas I had to be so careful with my heart.  I was explaining to someone the other day that one of the things you realize when you lose a loved one is that the pictures you have right now at this moment are all that will ever be taken.  Lynda didn't always enjoy having her picture made (and that's such a nice way of putting it) so I don't have tons of pictures to begin with.  When I was gathering pictures for the funeral I had to stop looking after a short period of time and plan the rest of the service.  I put the boxes back into storage.  I have looked at each picture that I have out a zillion times.  I'm now ready to go through the boxes again and try to find every single picture that I have ever taken.

Grief is a strange emotion that changes like a chameleon.  It washes over you like a wave.  It ebbs and flows and sometimes there are rip currents that aren't expected.  It can happen even in the shallow part of the water.  Even a good swimmer  has to be vigilant about going into the ocean.  Regardless of the potential dangers,  the gentle waves of the ocean and the soft warm sand is comforting and makes me happy.  Grief has a similar effect when dealing with  the memories of a loved one.  Sometimes it is gentle and at other times, it causes us to gather our memories close to our hearts to avoid drowning in the depth of just how deep the grief can actually be.  Sometimes our life preserver is to just hold our loved one in our heart without sharing a single memory with another living soul.  I don't know why.  Like the advice given to swimmers caught in the riptide to just swim parallel with the coast and not try to fight the force that is trying to pull them down...dealing grief is similar.  It goes against what our first instincts are and that is to fight it.  Slowly we learn to just swim parallel to the coast until we are out of the downward pull of the riptide.  Then, we take a deep breath, dry ourselves off and in a few days venture back into the water.

So, I've dried myself off and survived the swim out of the rough waters yet again.  I'll go back into the ocean of memories because it's one of my favorite places in the world but I know that it's not safe to swim alone.  Sharing Lynda's stories and memories feels like the warm sun is shining down with  a soft breeze blowing off the ocean.  I can close my eyes and for just a little while I'm there and so is she.