Thursday, March 7, 2013

It hurts.

The shock has officially worn off, and the waterfall is in full force...drenching me in my new reality.

He is gone.

He isn't coming back.

You would think after 6 months all my wounds would have scabbed over, but my emotions are rawer than ever.  I see with perfect clarity what has happened.  I'm feeling the grief in every pore. 

I'm falling apart.

Today I was sure my eye sockets would cave in from all the tears I have shed the past week.  I look over at his spot on the couch and it physically hurts knowing he won't sit there again. 

The worst part is the kids are in the same boat.  They are hurting more today than ever.  I've seen more tears from them this week than in the past 6 months.  I feel completely helpless.  All the words I use to comfort them, I try to internalize to comfort myself.  I try to believe, "It will get better.  It won't always be this hard."

But even though I do believe those things, right now, "getting better" seems so far off.  I wish I could numb it all away for them...give them a shot of love that would hold them over day to day.  But instead I have to watch my children travel through the horrific realization that their father has died.

I've tried talking to them about the afterlife.  I've tried explaining that we don't see the full picture here on Earth, but I'm realizing what they need most is just a quiet understanding.  Hugs.  And I love yous.  Explanations and promises of a brighter future aren't sinking in right now.  The hurt fogs over the hope.

I read a story in a hospice book as I was waiting for one of my boys to get out of therapy.  It likened the person who has passed to a ship.  When the ship is close to our shore it looks strong and magnificent, but as it goes out to sea it seems smaller and insignificant.  The fact is that ship is still strong and magnificent...our perspective just makes it seem diminished and out of our reach.  But as the ship leaves our view, and we are saying Goodbye, there are others on further shores that see the ship coming their way, and are saying, "Here it comes!" 

He is still Ryan, somewhere.

Somehow that above sentence helps me a bit.

He is still Ryan.  He hasn't just evaporated.  He isn't gone forever.

Someone needs to tell my tear ducts that.



  1. Having gone through my own VERY different trauma (obviously), I can tell you that in my experience these anniversaries are always tough to go through and it's not surprising that you feel more upset than you might have felt a week ago or a month ago, and it'll probably be different once you move past his birthday week. But then it'll cycle back when you get to another anniversary. They'll keep cycling, but each cycle will, hopefully, be a little more bearable. Much love to you and no one expects you to get over the loss of the love of your life in six months. That's barely a drop in the bucket. Take your time.

  2. Sending you and your crew all sorts of love, Meri.

  3. I'm a lurker of your blog, but I wanted to say that I am sending healing thoughts to you and your sons. This is a hard time, no doubt. My words of condolence are hardly going to matter in the overall scheme of things, but do know that I (and many in the DOC!) are thinking of you and your family and hoping that the pain is lessened a bit each day.

  4. Thank-you for your honesty Meri. I am lifting you and the boys up this week and especially this weekend as you celebrate Ryan's birthday. My heart hurts for you my friend! Sending lots of love your direction!

  5. I love you Meri. I really, really do.

  6. My heart aches for you, and for your family. I wish I could do something to ease your pain, but I hope that knowing you're loved, supported, and appreciated by so many offers you a touch of comfort. Big hugs, Meri. The biggest, actually.

  7. Sending hugs and a reminder that Ryan is everywhere because of you. I don't think any of us who read this can look at a beautiful sky, without thinking of him - and you - and the boys.

  8. oh, sweet friend. I wish Ryan were physically here with you and the boys too. I'm so sorry that he's gone. You are so good at supporting your family and everyone - all of us - that I wonder if your soul is just taking the time, space and energy it needs to hurt. Really, really hurt. Right now. Give your soul and your heart the time it needs. Be good to yourself. Cry all the tears that come, as many as you have. Let 'em out. And lean on us, too. You're surrounded by those who love you and just want to help, whatever that looks like.

  9. I pray that the One Who weeps beside you gives you and your boys comfort today. I pray He holds you close and binds your heart. Know this that He has wept many tears over our separation from Him and just as He finds joy in our return to Him, we will find joy when we are reunited with our loved ones for all ETERNITY!

    My 20 year old son went home to be with Jesus 2 years ago and I still grieve, deeply, and often. I feel closest to the Lord when I weep until I feel drained. I know that God has wept for so long for so many people that have not yet turned to Him. I gives me comfort to know that what I feel, God feels. It gives me comfort to be so fragile in His presence. He does bind up my heart, again and again.

    I am more tender hearted than I have ever been. I cannot wait until Jesus comes and ends sin and brings us to eternity. Please know that our family loves you as do so many who are encouraged by your words. We love The One Who can bind up your heart. I pray He shows you everyday that He is walking with you.

  10. Meri, all I can do is send my prayers, love and support your way during this painful time. Let the tears come, let your heart hurt, let the feelings flow because they are real and they need to be expressed. Somewhere Ryan is already working on the most beautiful sunrise....just for remind you he'll always be with you and the boys.

  11. Meri - I just want to hug you all and hold you tight and make the hurt go away.
    I hate that you you all have to go through this.
    I love you, I'm here for you and I'm praying for you all

  12. Grief has no time limit. Grief is so profound that Jesus recognized its pain in the second Beautitude. Bewailing is one of the synonyms of grief. The sound of grief is not crying, it is wailing. And, when one hears this sound, it is never forgotten. It is the sound of pure lamentation. Merri, you and your boys are in the middle of the roller coaster of lamentation.
    It hurts, is painful,and is longstanding in that one second is too long. I believe the loves we loose to death are close, and never far away. Their whispers are constant. Forever means durably, endlessly, enduringly, eternally, evermore, everything considered, for always, for good, for keeps, for life, forevermore, immortally, in perpetuity, in perpetuum, infinitely, interminably and permanently.

    Jesus Christ gave us the eight Beatitudes in the Sermon on the Mount, recorded for all posterity in the Gospel of Matthew, the first Book of the New Testament of the Bible. Matthew's Gospel was directed to an audience steeped in Hebrew tradition. The Gospel of Matthew stressed that Jesus Christ is the Messiah foretold in Hebrew Scripture, our Old Testament, and that the Kingdom of the Messiah is the Kingdom of God in Heaven. Jesus offers us a way of life that promises eternity in the Kingdom of Heaven.

    The Ten Commandments, given to Moses on Mount Sinai in the Old Testament Book of Exodus, related a series of "Thou shalt not" phrases, evils one must avoid in daily life on earth.

    In contrast, the message of Jesus is one of humility, charity, and brotherly love. He teaches transformation of the inner person. Jesus presents the Beatitudes in a positive sense, virtues in life which will ultimately lead to reward. Love becomes the motivation for the Christian. All of the Beatitudes have an eschatological meaning, that is, they promise us salvation - not in this world, but in the next. The Beatitudes initiate one of the main themes of Matthew's Gospel, that the Kingdom so long awaited in the Old Testament is not of this world, but of the next, the Kingdom of Heaven.

    Life on earth is darn hard and callous. The opposite is Heaven, which is Ryan.

  13. There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love. -Washington Erving

    Meri, sending love to your family...


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