"He shall feed his flock like a shepherd: he shall gather the lambs with his arm,
and carry them close to his heart, and shall gently lead those that are with young." Isaiah 40:11

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Life 3 1/2 weeks after Rachel

Today was the second day that Dave was back at work and Ethan was in kindergarten.  Wow, is it quiet!!  Yesterday was ok.  But today's rain is starting to get to me.  I'm realizing how important it will be to make a schedule for myself to try and keep to and at the same time, to allow time for the work of grieving.  And it is work.  Somedays it feels manageable and I would say that in many ways, we are doing well.  The tears don't flow nearly as often now. But sometimes I feel the heaviness as a huge weight and crying is a release I need and even long for.  I have made a few trips down to the respite room where all her last things are still sitting on the bed.  Honestly, I can't help thinking that we are both still in shock - how can it really be true that Rachel isn't here anymore??? Really? She's gone? It seems impossible.

We have spent some time with others who have also known grief.  And there are so many different ways that we can hurt deeply.  Our time at the cabin and the sun was good for us.  Lots of time on the beach.  Time to scrapbook and journal and read too.  Now that we are home, I have been amazed at how busy our life is, even without Rachel.  Paperwork - ROE's for our respite workers, laundry, Thank-you cards, making plans for Dave's sabatical, getting Ethan prepared for school.  I'm so thankful for the normalacy of daily work. 

I have often thought that once I was in the right head-space and had the time to be on the computer, I would write and write.....and now that I am here, I'm not sure what there is to say.  Amazingly, it seems like I have less time to write now because Abigail needs more of me now that Ethan is at school.  (I used to make time for writing by sitting Rachel beside me in her chair, while the others kept each other company.)  However, I do hope to write soon about Rachel's last day.  I have some of it in my journal but I feel like I need to write some more things out.  I have wrestled with some remorse and sadness about her last day and how she died, and I think I am coming to the point of being able to let those things go.  Journaling and talking about these things with others has been really helpful for me. 

Thank-you again for all your notes, cards, invitations to get together etc....! We are slow to respond.  But we so appreciate your expressions of love to us.  There is alot of reading material (including comments on the blog etc...) that will be of deep encouragement to me again on those long winter days... 

And God is so Good.   We Give THANKS to the Giver of Life for allowing us to know this precious little girl.  We are sad... sometimes deeply so, but at the same time we are filled with immense gratefulness.....

3 comments:

Brenda Funk said...

It is hard to believe it was 3 and 1/2 weeks ago already! And yet in many ways it seems like forever. Wish so often we could be closer together to go through this grieving business! Hard to share suppers, give hugs, or have a cup of tea together by email! Sounds like you are dealing well with it. And you have to be prepared for ups and downs that may take you by suprise -- it's not an even road, this going through loss.

Kathy and Carl said...

I have been thinking of you guys a lot lately and it's so good to hear that the time at the cabin was a healing time for you. But take the time to deliberately grieve. Only God knows what it looks like in the coming weeks, months, years...

We will continue to keep you in our prayers and tell Ethan it's exciting to hear him going to kindergarten!

Martha said...

Grief is such an unexplainable thing and such a hard journey to go through. I remember some months after our Jeff passed away, sitting in a restaurant, seeing a young man walk in wearing a "toyota" cap. Well, that was Jeff...a total Toyota guy. I just lost it right there. Praying you through this long, hard journey that is difficult but so necessary.