Messy Grief - Part 1

 Over the years and throughout my time in seminary, I'd read periodically on the topic of grief.  I was curious enough to read about what it could look like and study some components for my biblical counseling coursework. But superstitiously I thought if I researched it too much, I'd be inviting the premature loss of a loved one. I know that's crazy and it's not the most spiritually informed thought, but it's real.  

After our situation happened, I poured over the bible, devotional, books, blogs, vlogs, pamphlets everything I could get my hands on to try to make sense of what had happened.  But I learned quick and fast that nothing would make it make sense, and that a lot of what I was reading was really general or "removed." The authors were speaking from a space of super spirituality that I couldn't get with.  Either that, or they were so far removed from those first initial days and weeks of the pummeling pain that I just couldn't relate.  I had to shut that all down. So, I started writing.  

As I thought about it, of the sermons I've heard in my lifetime, all of the teachings, biblical lament was rarely a focus.  Teaching about that real space where grief and faith intersect was a rare topic. Yet, it is something that will touch us all.  I have more thoughts on this that I'll share in another post. The raw truth is: grief is messy. And for whatever reason, even though it's something that we all will definitely go through, it's hardly referenced.  It's a subject that's rarely attended to or addressed, in and out of the church.  I thought back to when my granddaddy passed.  When I got back in town from his service, we went to serve at our church, and no one asked how we were.  A few people said "awww, I'm sorry" but quickly moved on. My grandfather DIED at 68! He was a pastor, a loving husband, father, grandfather, friend, mentor, etc.  How was I expected to show up at church and just serve the save God who chose not to heal my grandfather from cancer? Thankfully, the loss of Patrick we have experienced a much different more empathetic response, but sheesh!

So, here's what messy grief looks like, in our journey thus far. There are no lines, no calendars, no framework, no way around it.  Here's an example of what messy looks like for us:

• At times I don't ask for help because it reminds me of my void, and it's retraumatizing.
• Other times I don't ask for help because the fear of disappointment and rejection are now higher than ever
• Sometimes my kids will make such a mockery and mess of our house, I'm sure they're protesting a world that makes no sense.  "When I tidy up and put everything in its place like I did before, it won't bring my Dad back. "
• When my kids can't sleep, they miss their Dad. "I never had trouble sleeping when Daddy was here."
• If my kid disobeys or doesn't complete a task, I have to sit and debate whether to be disciplinarian or counselor-maid.
• Sometimes I'll throw out all of my plans and take the kids to four different parks, just so we can be in nature, and I can meltdown and avoid my seemingly insurmountable Mom List at home.
• I struggle to believe that God can make something beautiful out of this.
• Sometimes on birthdays I open sob with my kids. Many times they are strong for me, too. 
• When I enjoy something, I wonder if my kids worry that I'm healed and over it. Of course, they don't but the fact that I have to even monitor those thoughts is exhausting. 
• I don't think I'll ever be able to hear or use the word "miss" again aside from this situation. It no longer means the same thing.
• Sometimes I type, "My phone battery is low on power" instead of "my phone d*ed". Like it's that deep.
• They hate this house without their Dad in it. This is the house where our lives changed forever. Another reason why getting them to do chores is a struggle sometimes. No amount of order in the house will restore what we've lost. Contrarily, I struggle to function in mess.
• The hardest thing to try to do is to keep your kids motivated to do anything, set goals, look to the future, for two reasons:1) Because whatever they face, Patrick won't be here. 2)The reward for people seeking after God, living a life of love and service abruptly ends with them being promoted to heaven and leaving a slew of heartbroken loved ones behind. Thankfully God handles this for me, I don't even try to make it make sense. 

Wake Up.Open Blinds.Brew Coffee-6 Month Update

This won't be cohesive, but it's where I am. I want to get that part out of the way.  Many people ask, "How are you?", and still there is no way to answer that question. So here are a few of my pieces:

It's too quiet. Too quiet. The reverberating voice and hearty laugh is missing and that makes me angry. It makes no sense.

It's too quiet. The bass line is missing. 

Even when it's not quiet, and it's busy...there is the anticipation of the quiet. The weighing in of our person, his opinion and viewpoint - all missing. 

Even with seven kids. Even with their laughter, excitement, silliness and frequent reminiscence; it's too quiet.

I can't remember the actual day, but for the first time ever last month, I woke up and I wasn't "in the hospital" in my head. For the past few months, every single morning I'd be back at the hospital in my mind. I remember trying to make sense of it all; trying to create an alternate ending. Just so many thoughts. So, in order, to push through, I would:

 1)Wake up 

2)Open the Blinds 

3) Brew Coffee.  

If I could just complete those three tasks, in that order, I'd be fairly stable.  I had to follow that cadence in order to float or glide throughout the day and swing from busy thing to busy thing. But, always anticipating the meltdowns, or eight of them. The meltdowns haven't been many, and for that I thank God. I'm grateful to Him for holding us together and giving us bright spots and innumerable beautiful stories. The anticipation of the meltdowns, though, has been the worst.  Or better yet, getting through the day, getting through prayer and right at the very end.... full fallout.  I also realize that this journey is fresh and most days we just look at each other in disbelief.  I usually hate when people say this but, it could be worse. As much as Pat means to us, as tight as our family is- the fact that we are clothed naturally and spiritually and walking upright most days is miraculous and a testament to all of the prayers going up on our behalf.

Saturday June 4, 2022 was six months to the day that we rushed Patrick to the ER. I knew it would be a fight when I woke up,  but especially since Avielle and Christian decided that they wanted to participate in Prayer and Produce for the first time since our loss.  For those newer to the story, Patrick and the oldest four were shopping for food for our outreach ( Prayer and Produce) when he felt the pain in his chest and we took him to the ER. So "triggery" doesn't even explain it, but I was so proud of their bravery. I'll have to process and blog about that experience in a separate post.  

Lately, I've been waking up walking through many chapters of our story. Good memories.  Yet, still bewildered to be in this spot.  All I wanted was to "do life" with my person. That's it. At times, it was messy, hard, and crazy, but it was our life. It was our love. 

God usually shows me a lot. I've learned in the recent past that discernment is one of my spiritual gifts, but how did I not see this coming? This floored me and nothing could have prepared me for it. If Patrick himself would have told me this was coming, I wouldn't have believed him. Did I miss something, or many things?  I'm a sensible person, and nothing about this makes sense.  In one of the updates prior to the blog, I remember writing "God you are The Creator, nothing about this was creative." The most unnecessary plot twist. 

One of my earlier prayer requests to a pastor friend was, "Ask the Lord to show me where to fix my eyes, because I'm flailing right now." 

Every decision, every parenting decision is tough.  The teamwork was unrivaled.  We needed the balance. I'm out here doing my best.  

I've had some days where the love and encouragement from our support system started as early as 6am. It seems like on those days God is "padding" me.  So, if you're reading this and you have sent me a message saying "you were on my heart" or "praying for you today" or "you're an incredible person"-thank you for letting the Lord use you. It helped me to make it through one of the kid's unexpected crashes, or maybe my own.  I read every single message/email and appreciate every single phone call.

I often share with the kids where I am. They comfort me when I cry, Amira sings over me. They encourage me, too. I'm so grateful for that.  I can honestly say I don't live for my kids; I do life with my kids.  Patrick and I always made sure that they understood that. Mom and Dad are not perfect, indestructible, all-knowing beings. Thus, we learn, grow and live together. 

I was strong before this. I didn't need this.  How was THIS the move? Most days I wake up thinking "How can I possibly do this today? Again?"

The kids wanted to watch a movie and so I told them "before you watch the movie, let's write encouraging notes to send to a family in Georgia who also lost their Dad." And without a fuss, the kids sat quietly and made the cards with heartfelt messages and stickers. That's all I know how to do. I am walking in who God has made me: We all are. Which gives me a little comfort- knowing that I'm walking with Him and can still hear Him.

Amira keeps singing "He is for you; He is for you." But I don't always feel like God is "for me".  I know enough bible to know better, but I'm being brutally honest here. 

This still feels like the cruelest of pranks. The past tense-es are excruciating.  People say "time heals", but only Jesus...only the All Mighty God can heal this. 

Pat's Baby Momma- Storytime

Patrick and I affectionally called each other "Baby Momma" and "Baby Daddy." When he would call my phone and his photo would appear with that caption, it would always get a chuckle from whomever was in our company at the time.  I proudly wear the banner of Mom of his Seven Exceptional Children who all bear the image of their earthly and heavenly Fathers. I am honored to have been consistently lauded, appreciated, and admonished as a great mom.   Below are a few memorable stories of some of my best Mother's Days past.

One of the things that Patrick learned is that I loved the gift of quiet, which had been a rarity for the last thirteen plus years. So, one Mother's Day, he loaded up all of the kids told me to "stream church online" and he took them all with him to service. I cranked up my Gospel rap, danced and sang until they got back home. I couldn't remember the last time before that, when I had a Sunday morning to myself to praise and worship with BOTH hands raised. 

 Another time, he rented me a white mustang so that I could ride in stylish silence for the entire weekend! Being able to jump in the car and hear nothing for miles was music to my ears.  But one of my favorite Mother's Days, was when he and my sister Kandace joined together to get me a night away from it all. I slept, ate, took several showers and binged Grey's Anatomy with not a single interruption. It was awesome.

He always took the kids out to buy my favorite things the night before, and their faces would light up the morning of during the presentation. Candles, Journals, and makeup...they knew me well.  Patrick always affirmed me as a mother and taught and modeled that appreciation for the kids. I'm grateful today for having had him as my Baby Daddy and partner on this parenting journey.

The Bittersweet-ness of Wins: Surviving Birthday #2

Yesterday, we survived another birthday and major holiday inside our new reality. The entire day, I was completely off. I felt like I was moving in slow motion... Like my feet were stuck.  My aunt texted to check on us that morning and I remember replying "Today hurts."  In spite of how I was feeling, I was happy to see that Joy was excited about celebrating her day. There were some beautiful moments on yesterday and I counted the many blessings.  It's because of those blessings and the obedience of God‘s people that we were able to persist and ultimately sustain the blows that came after the celebration.

So here's the sweet:

• Some good friends in ministry hosted and served us for a special birthday breakfast in Joy's honor. It was humbling and a great start to the day. We all felt so loved. 
• My Sister showed up with hugs and decorations in tow to make Joy's Day Special
• Another friend found a space in her day to have coffee in the car with me & catch up
• Some of our favorite family came into town and we shared laughs, hugs, and celebrated Joy
• Kind friends stopped by, called, emailed and video-messaged birthday wishes and sent awesome gifts for Joy
• Awesome friends stopped by and prepared a homemade taco bar for our family to enjoy for Joy's Special Birthday Dinner & hung a cool tree swing that the kids can't wait to use

Here's the bitter:

After all of the beautiful things that happened yesterday, and we experienced gobs of God's grace, my birthday girl  screamed and cried herself to sleep. She wanted her Daddy. Even the good things remind us that something, someone is missing.  My fourth child had a raw, gut-wrenching hour of grief with a hurt in her heart that I couldn't soothe. Questions that I couldn't answer.  My third child struggled to find enough peace to even fall asleep. Thankfully, God sent a song and a scripture for me to share. It didn't take away their pain, nor mine. But,  I did what I knew to do.   My baby boy sat through wailing from his sisters which in turn caused him to toss and turn in his sleep in addition to the night terrors he's been having.  The baby would cry when l put her down and wanted to sleep in my arms.  Thankfully the other kiddos were able to get some rest after all of the chaos, but  I wonder what enduring something like that does to their little hearts..  I have no doubt that they have the supernatural favor of God on their lives and that he will bring them through this and somehow use it for his glory but this utterly sucks. My constant prayer for them is "God, preserve and prosper their faith. You're the only One who can."

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