Saturday, May 18, 2013

Grief is in the small things.

Hello friends and family,

I know that it's been a long time since I last wrote.  I hardly seem to have words to say to explain what I'm feeling these days.  It's so dichotomous - though my world is rife with pain and grief, yet I am also sustained by that unimaginable peace that comes only through a tight tether with the Holy Spirit.  I have truly been blessed for the last several weeks by His grace and His comfort.

I've been through a few of those "firsts" that are notoriously difficult in the first year after loss.

The first birthday party (for Colton):

First major family event that Ryan had expressed he had really wanted to be at (Corey's graduation):

First Mother's Day (which Ryan had done an excellent job celebrating with me for three years prior):

Mother's Day at Comerica: WIN!

First wedding anniversary without him - May 13.

Somehow, the "firsts" have not been as bad as I worked them up to be.  Maybe the first Christmas is where all of the anxiety and sadness is going to hit me like a freight train, but I've been okay so far through these "firsts".

It's the small things that have been getting me:

  • The silence
  • His handwriting
  • Seeing an article of his clothing
  • Catching a whiff of his brand of cologne somewhere
  • Disconnecting his phone
  • Hearing a song that reminds me of him
  • Checking the "Single" box on a piece of paperwork
  • Seeing his traits in his son
  • Seeing a TV show that we watched together
  • Seeing his horse
  • Seeing any horse
I lived with Ryan 365 days a year.  Only 10-15 of the days in any given year are holidays or special days that we celebrated together.  So the other 340 days of the year is where it feels like we really did true life together.  The laughing, loving, arguing, negotiating, encouraging, bantering, and just living - we did that all together and that's the part that I miss the most.  As I write this, it's Saturday morning and I am waiting for Colton to wake up.  If Ryan were still here, he would be awake and we would be probably a quarter of the way through a pot of coffee and watching SportsCenter, our Saturday morning routine.  I miss having the need to make an entire pot of coffee on a Saturday.  I miss the SportsCenter theme song.

I just miss Ryan.  And all of the sights, sounds, activities, hugs, phone calls, letters, and everything else that accompanied him.

And yet - however wrenching the pain is, my God is greater.  I know, without any doubt, that His grace will be sufficient for today, even without a pot of coffee and SportsCenter - and my best friend.

2 Corinthians 1:3-4

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our affliction so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.

Oh Lord, please heal my broken heart and help lessen the pain.  I know that somehow Ryan's death was somehow meant for my good and not for my harm.  May I and my family continue to glorify you even through tears.  I trust you implicitly and I love you desperately.