Grief

I have spent the past several months living under the weight of what if. What if the lobster dies? What if he gets hurt? What if he loses his job? What if the kids spend this year in the hospital like the last time? What if he comes home, and his brain, his heart, his love, his lobsterness stays back in that hell hole? What if...

It's a dirty sentence. It is a short two word sentence, but yet it's filthy and ugly and grotesque. It causes us to fill our minds with horrible thoughts and makes us dwell on everything but truth: our worrying doesn't change anything!

When I nutshell down all of my worrying, there is an answer. For the first time in my life, I am walking away from something that I have held dear my whole life. Everything that I used to cling to, lean on, rely on, is all of a sudden being transformed into something else. It. is. terrifying. It is mind numbing. It is causing everything in my small existence to be questioned and changed. I am afraid of conversion.

I can't really tell you why though. Logically, philosophically it makes sense. If you are questioning what truth is, and Truth reveals itself to you, how can you ignore it? Emotionally it's a completely different story. Emotionally I feel like something is dying. I feel like everything that I used to know is being buried. I feel like I'm mourning. This huge piece of myself is going away. I know it has to happen. I know it's supposed to happen, but yet it hurts. It hurts to let go of everything that has been familiar and to walk into something foreign.

It is incredibly scary that this journey into the unknown, is done with the lobster far away. It creates an environment where I feel like I have to do the leading of our children, I have to do the encouraging and question answering, I have to figure it all out without his help, without his wisdom. I hate when his leadership isn't here to guide me.

I am coming to understand that these what if thoughts and visions, are real. They represent something massively significant: the loss of a relationship that I've had for twenty five years. I loved that relationship. I cherished it. I shared it. I encouraged others in theirs. I taught. I learned. I gave...

When pouring this stuff out to the lobster, he told me that he would pray for me. I am grateful for that. I am grateful for his companionship. I am grateful for the vulnerability that I can always share with him. I am grateful for the safety that he brings me. It always amazes me how he challenges me, but yet encourages me exactly when I need it. I love how he always reminds me that we are unified and that I don't need to feel alone. It's like when I'm in a hole, instead of yelling at me about what I'm doing wrong or the stupid thing I did to get in it, he climbs in and just holds me in the darkness.

I really love his version of love. I love that his love for me is present while I am grieving...