Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Over you

After a month long hiatus I am back. My intention for my sort of media fast was to buckle down and wrap up the last few chapters of my book. But then something happened that kept me away much longer. My heart is still heavy from the devastating loss my family suffered. And though the last thing I want to do is continue to drown in the grief, it seems to have a hold on me. As if I lost this enormous part of myself, and there is no hope of getting it back.

There is a new song on the radio that keeps tugging at my admittedly shaky emotional stability. And though the words are a constant reminder of my pain, they are also a beautifully cathartic release.

But you went away
How dare you
I miss you
They say I’ll be okay
But I’m not going to
Ever get over you  

When the song is over, and I’ve had myself another good cry, I think about how blessed I am to have a life unencumbered by an excessive burden of loss. God has always been my refuge. And I am thankful to have been shielded from a hard life marked by tragedy.

Even in my despair that past few weeks, God’s grace has been so evident. His loving arms my safe haven. But as this loss sinks deeper into my soul, I wonder how I will walk through life without a scar etched onto my heart.

They say time heals all wounds. Maybe that will prove to be true. But how do you deal with grief when the wound is still raw? And have you every lost someone you still carry with you?


  1. So sorry to hear about your loss, Amy. When my dad died a year and a half ago, it was the first real loss I'd experienced (I lost two grandpa's when I was young, but it's definitely not the same). Up until that point, I still wore my standard-issue rose colored glasses and the small bumps I'd experienced in life has smoothed out easily in the rearview mirror.
    Afterward, I wouldn't say I slipped into depression so much as I fell face-first into cynicism. I slowly climbed my way out (with the help of my wife, family, friends, and, of course, God), but I'm definitely not the same person I was.
    Your analogy of a scar on your heart is spot on. I don't think I'll ever keep from tearing up when I hear "Spirit in the Sky" (the song played at Dad's funeral), and fishing in my childhood pond will always be hard, but I find pleasure in the simple things again.
    Great post, and I'll be praying for you and yours.

    1. Andrew, I can't imagine how devastating it must be to lose your father so young. My dad had a heart attack a few years back and scared us pretty good. I remember those uncertain moments wondering how I would cope with losing my dad. Not knowing if my kids would ever know their Pappy and see how he brought me up feeling safe and secure. Loved. I have lost almost all of my grandparents and you are right, it's not the same as losing someone so close to your heart in some untimely way.

      I am so sorry for your loss. Sometimes we don't get over losing someone. And maybe we don't want to. In some small way our grief reminds us that they will always be a part of us, and that they are not forgotten.

      Thank you for sharing. It was good for me to step outside myself and cry for someone else. I'll be praying for you too.

  2. So sorry for your loss, Amy. I have lost both my parents, and last fall I lost a dear writing friend. Time helps. But like R above, I still tear up at a song that reminds me of them--cry more easily in general to sad stories, even the dog that laid in the middle of the road to guard it's fallen buddy (on the news today).

    To get through, remember grief is your friend right now. Let it take you where it leads. Don't try to bottle up what you're feeling and hide your tears. Talk to loved ones, be honest about how you're feeling. Don't be afraid to reminisce about the good times you had with your loved one, in hopes of avoiding pain. Don't be surprised when three months from now, it hits you a gain like a Mack truck and your friends (who have never experienced loss) think you should be over it by then. People feel uncomfortable and don't know what to say...just like you've probably experienced when confronted with others facing loss. Don't take it personally. Find someone who understands and get a big hug. Oh, and if you feel like you're losing your mind, that's perfectly normal.

    And because you have young kids make sure you explain to them why mommy's sad, so they don't think it has anything to do with them. Husbands need that reminder too sometimes. Big hug!

    1. Thanks Sandra. It was so hard to put back on the mommy hat when all I felt like doing was crying until I was numb. But with some help from family, I was allowed those times to cope and cry and be miserable without neglecting my children. I'm sure there will be another round coming but for now, God's grace is helping me to feel a bit more like myself each day.

      The joy of being a mommy helps to distract me from the sting of the pain that comes when I think about all I lost. And then I am reminded of all I have and the world rights itself for mercifully distracting moments.

      Thanks for the support! I am blessed to know you.

  3. Oh, Amy,
    I am so sorry you are in a season of grief.
    I am walking with a friend now as she experiences a deep season of grief too. I admire her because she is not shying away from her feelings. She's admitting how she's feeling, trying to understand whys he feels the way she does ... asking for help, being honest when she's had a really rough day ...
    The truth of heartbreak is that for a while, the heart is shattered. And there's no putting the pieces back together. You just have to admit that life ... that you feel broken. And allow time, and God's touch, to heal you. There will be a scar, a missing of that person. Possibly forever. But it will be folded into your life in a way that God can use. I don't know how -- but I do know that God doesn't waste anything -- not even the heartaches in our lives.

    1. Thank you, Beth. Your words are such an encouragment and a comfort. And I love how you said it... folded into your life in a way that God can use. It's difficult to see that right now, but I am claiming that over my life.

  4. I'm so sorry Amy. I can't imagine what you must be going through. I think there will always be sadness within you over this loss--when we care so deeply, it stays there forever. Wish I could give you a big hug and buy you a cup of coffee. Take care, okay?

    1. Jill, I am so touched by your kind words. It is such a comfort to know that others have expirenced the same stuggle. It's amazing that even though grief makes us want to crawl insides ourselves and hide from the world, it somehow unites us. Thanks for stopping by :)

    2. I officially owe you a piece of comfort chocolate at the ACFW conference. :) And a hug. And maybe a mocha. (can you tell I like chocolate excuses) Still praying for you girl, even after these few months. I think about your situation often even though I don't know what happened, so I think it's God reminding me :) Just felt you needed to know that tonight!