What Grieving Feels Like...

The second Mother's Day since Lynda passed away is over and I have to say that this celebration is perhaps the most difficult for me.  It's actually harder than Lynda's birthday or Christmas.  Mother's Day is the day that the irony of life just slaps me right in the face. I find myself struggling to realize that I am going to celebrate another mother's day without one of my children.  Don't get me wrong.  I know where Lynda is and I know who she is with and I celebrate her rebirth in heaven. Still, I am also a mother.  I am her mother and Kevin's and Kristopher's.  I'm a step-mom to Kelly and Kristen and I am blessed to have six wonderful grandchildren and through the marriage of my children, I have gained two more daughters and a son.  Our family circle is growing and yet I will never get used to putting flowers on my daughter's grave.

On any day, I'm just a breath away from screaming to the top of my lungs the same anguished sound that came out when the doctor confirmed that there was no more hope.  Some days I cry (no I sob) but I think to myself that this isn't all there is.  God has promised more and I cling to that promise like a life preserver in the open sea.

I have dealt with my grief through steps and phases.  I've worked through stages and revisited some and worked through them again and again.  I've come to the point in my life that God has blessed me with an understanding and faith so that my heart doesn't feel like it's being ripped from my body now when I hear her name.  Except on Mother's Day or when I hear an unexpected song or I have a dream about her that makes me sit straight up in bed and for a moment forget she's gone.

Since the first day I met Lynda, I have prayed for her.  I have talked to Jesus about her and for her.  I have asked God to send angels to guard her and watch over her.  I've prayed that he would provide angels to talk to her and let her know that she was loved and adored in ways I couldn't communicate.  For so many years, I prayed to the Father that she wouldn't be in pain or and that no one would hurt her.

After so many years of praying for Lynda, when I now began to pray, I sometimes still find myself starting to ask God to protect her. Then reality reminds me  that she is no longer on earth but in heaven where there is nothing but peace.  Even though all of my children are grown and on their own, I still worry and pray for them.  For their safety.  For their happiness. For their walk with God.  No matter how old they get, as long as I'm alive they are my children and I will be on my knees talking to the Father about them and to him on their behalf.  I will be praying for their spouses and my grandchildren.

I still pray to God about Lynda to thank him for allowing me to be her mother.  I ask him to tell her how much I love her and can't wait to see her again but I don't have to pray FOR her because she is living and being cared for and loved by our savior and I want to shout with joy that she is a joint heir with Christ and a much loved daughter of the King.

How can so many emotions live inside one person?  How do we ever really get over giving back a child?  Some days I wonder.  Some days I just have to go with the flow and know the next day will be better.  Every day it helps me to stop and think about heaven and Lynda right smack in the middle of it.  Some days I'm looking at the skies to see if I can get a glimpse of the coming of the rapture in hopes that today will be THE day.

I keep telling myself to be patient because what seems like forever here on earth is really just a blink of the eyes in the scheme of eternity.  God still has things for me to do here and I know his timing is perfect.