Who are you, grief?

Written approximately five months after Olivia's death. 

I am loud, obnoxious, and overpowering. 

I am larger than life. 

I will leave you bound to your bed for days and always in tears. 

I steal your joy and drown out the love. 

I take away your identity and leave you unrecognizable.

I poke at your nerves and ride the last one out.

I take your comfort.

I make your relationships difficult and awkward. 

I make you question everything you knew about life and love and sadness. 

I scream at you all the time.

I am unpredictable and messy.

I make you scoff at the idea of love or that anyone really cares. 

I magnify your fears and bombard your thoughts with all the worst case scenarios. 

I'm like a new tattoo--I will never go away. 

I overtake who you are so there is no more self, just this new outer layer, empty inside.

I make you silent so conversations are nonexistent. 

I am hard pressed to learn new things or that there is a light. 

I need the spotlight. I want to steal the show. 

I made a new you. 

I am normal and no stranger.  I will affect everyone at some point. No one will escape not knowing my name. 

I am testing who you are, your beliefs, and everything.

* * *

But maybe I get comfortable. 

Maybe I become secondary. 

Maybe I will sit back and let joy grow around you and become a gentle reminder of love instead of pain. 

I might be the worst you've ever felt and make it the hardest it's ever been to live, but maybe I'll become the greatest reminder of life. 

Maybe I'll bring flowers after the storm. 

end

Maybe grief is a new part of who I am but it doesn't have to be a bad part. Maybe grief can be gentle and be the reminder of love.  Maybe one day she won't hurt me so badly or be so loud. Maybe she'll share the new me with joy as it comes. 

How do I glorify God in my grief?

I will praise you, anyway. You are the savior and giver of everlasting life.  Though my every ounce of being screams pain in her absence, You've given her a gift of greatness. She gets to feel all the love and live in the light. How can I be sad for her? It is just myself I pity. 

And still I thank the Lord for my other children. They're still here and deserving of a present mother-not consumed with grief. Let the gentle grief be shown to them through me--and the ugly if they need it.  Let me be who they need me to be. 

Gratitude:  I am grateful for my kids and God's unfailing love.