Moving Forward

I’ve written a lot about losing Ruth and the grief her passing caused.  There’s no way to measure it and there was certainly no way to prepare for it. She was here one moment and gone the next.

My dad’s health failed over a number of years, and he was in hospital rooms and care facilities throughout the last nine months of his life.  I lost my mom a bit at a time. She surpassed my dad by fifteen years and wondered aloud why she lived as long as she did.  She offered up more than once, “God must have a plan for me.”

When my cousin Gene died, it shook me to my core. In our youth he was more like my big brother than a cousin. When we married and raised our own families, we grew apart.  We were busy with our new lives but reunited during our retirement years.  We’d reminisce and laugh until we cried.  While I still have the stories, I miss the happy tears we shared.

My best friend Jim died much like Ruth.  Unannounced. Leaving everyone unprepared.  We talked about everything and solved multiple personal problems, work related issues, and celebrated the changes in our children’s lives while talking across a card table or driving shoulder to shoulder from one venue to another.

I grieved each passing and still do. I think about each one every day.  Not all day but every day. Sometimes my tears return with their memory.

You expect to lose your parents and know that one of the marriage partners will pass before the other, but it’s not easy saying good-bye, even when you know it’s coming.

I ran across this “picture” of grief a while ago.  I saved it knowing one day I’d share it in a blog.  Today’s the day.

Like the picture says, grief doesn’t go away.  It never shrinks.  It just stays.  We grow.  We change.  Over time, we don’t cry as often or as hard.  But we always remember.

We discussed embracing endings in my Singles New Beginnings class this week and the fact that many endings require a period of grieving for what was lost.  Some of my new friends experienced loss through death like me.  Others through divorce.  Both are painful.  Although I’ve never been divorced, I think there must be a similar struggle with grief.

We don’t lose it, but if we’re willing to do the work, we can grow.  Life can get better.  Our journey does change.  We don’t need to wallow in our misery, but we must be willing to take the first step.

Our class discussed a couple of quotes.  One from tennis legend Arthur Ash states: “Use what you have.  Do what you can”.  A second says, “Take the first step in faith.  You don’t have to see the whole staircase.”

I’ve spent the last almost ten months taking one step at a time on mine.  It’s heading upward.  That’s the thing about staircases.  They can lead you up or down.  You get to choose. Down seems dark to me, so I’m going up.  Ruth spoke to our three children about making choices almost every day.  She wanted them to choose wisely.  To keep growing and moving forward.

Moving up is the growth I need to become a better version of me.  I’ll always carry my grief with me, but if I continue to grow, it’ll be easier to move forward.  That’s all any of us can do.  Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.