“The last time I was here…”

Last Wednesday Marc thought it might be a good idea for the two of us to go out for coffee and just be together.  It didn’t exactly turn out the way either of us hoped.  I cried all the way to town, stayed in the car the entire time he ran errands, and cried all the way home.   Today we tried it again.  We went to town together to pick up some tubs to store Bernadette’s new Barbie toys and other precious items.  This time we managed to get to town tear free.  We made it through Canadian Tire tear free.  Wal-Mart was another story.   Every aisle I walked down I was haunted with the memory of ‘the last time I was here” I was looking for food that would interest Bernadette, looking for Pokémon cards for Bernadette, looking for movies Bernadette might like to watch, looking for clothing that just might fit her…. memories, memories, memories.  The worst was the craft and toy sections.  It became painfully real to me that I no longer needed to look for anything for Bernadette.  She no longer needed me to meet any of her needs.  I realized that I have to not only let go of my little girl, but I also have to let go of all my dreams for her future.  She won’t need a bike, or school supplies or shampoo.  She won’t need that cute dress or a new jacket.  I won’t be buying her any toys for Christmas next year.  (I always started keeping my eyes open early).  Her birthday would have been in just a month and I don’t get to buy her a birthday present now.

Needles to say the trip home was not tear free!   I guess there will be many times over the next year where ordinary events will now be touched with tears, whether I want them to or not because as I’m discovering, the tears just come.  I don’t beckon them and I certainly don’t go looking for them, they just come when they feel like it.   Sometimes I wish they wouldn’t feel like it so much and yet if they don’t come for a few hours I feel guilty.   Oh there is so much to learn about grieving that can only truly be taught by going through it.  Why does grief have to be such a ruthless teacher?

On the way home I told Marc that there is a new fear in my life.  I fear having to ever go through this again.  There are moments when the pain is so intense that I honestly wonder if I’ll be able to take the next breath.  And yet I do.  But then the next one?  That one too.  How about the next?  On and on it goes.  Thankfully there are moments of reprieve.   But the reprieve is just a dull endless ache with no life in it.  No color, no joy, no hope, just fear.  Fear that none of my other children are safe from illness and death.  Fear of losing Marc.  Fear of living!  To be totally honest, the only thing right now I don’t fear is death itself.  It would be a relief.  I never feared living until these last few weeks.  Now I fear what the future holds.   I fear giving my heart totally to Zoe.  I fear not being able to help Catherine through her grief, or Johanna.  The list goes on and on.

How do people walk this road who have no faith?  For even though I fear and even though I grieve, I also know that there is more to life than this.  As Marc reminded me this afternoon, “Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, what God has ready for those who love Him.”   There will come a day when we will all be together again and when that time comes we will never be separated.   There will be no pain, no sickness, no death.  An eternity with God and with each other with no fear of the future.   I guess that’s where I have to keep bringing myself back to when the waves of grieve threaten to drown me.