Short answer – no, not really.
Long answer – partially – perspective alters, prayer cries are automatic, thought control kicks in faster, life goes on because it does, not because you want it to, and because you learn to separate your public and private grief. You come to accept that it is unchangable, and you are thankful for what you had. Time deepens the loss – it doesn’t erase it.
Life, and death, it seems, are filled with oversimplifications and generalizations that really cannot be completed here – like a puzzle with a missing piece. Despite the outward absence, the inward presence continues to make itself known, not unlike what the doctor thought were phantom kicks from the son he was sure I’d miscarried. They were not phantom and neither are the pangs of grief.
Grief is the reality of the emptiness of a space when the life-force is absent, and the silence continues to shout against life’s real and contrived white-noise.
Time etches the background with peace, yet knowing the loved one’s faith and eternal destination continues to be overlapped with a hundred thousand layers of memories and hopes, dreams and plans you lived to help fulfill. Every tiny moment constantly shutters in and out of visibility like a continuous slide show with the beginning replaying and the ending out of view.
Promises made, and even promises kept seem hollow, and you realize, gratefully, that you will never stop saying hello and reliving the life-show in which you had the privilege to participate.
Tomorrows keep arriving, winging by and becoming yesterdays. I feel like I am supposed to be doing something. Something more. I am a mom who tries to fix things and have to acknowledge it is impossible to fulfill my role. When I say I am supposed to be doing something, several dear ones tell me -. No you are not, you are doing what you need to do; you are grieving. You are acknowledging that a huge piece of your life and your heart are missing.
Three quotes that keep me going: Change your self-talk – at the end of the day, tell yourself gently you did the best you could today. Even if you didn’t accomplish all you planned, I love you anyway (Franjois). Reminds me of Isaiah 57:18 – I have seen their behavior, but I will heal them and give them rest, and I will once again console those who mourn.
I’ve accepted my loneliness. I don’t know the cure for it and maybe it will always be there. Maybe that’s simply part of what we call the human condition. But I also remind myself those are emotions. And my emotions fluctuate constantly. I know I’m loved by God, by others, and have finally learned to love myself.
When I feel lonely and isolated
I remind myself, “Those are my emotions. They aren’t reality.” – Cec. Murphy
Reality is that Laurie lives on – both in body and spirit. I have God’s Word on that and hers, as well.
“Don’t worry about me Mumzie, it is well with my soul.”– Laurie Liesner-Kujawa –
It’s getting close to the anniversary, isn’t it? People tell me that’s the hardest time of all. Still praying.