"Good Grief..."

Good Grief.  Seems like an oxymoron...Even when Charlie Brown says it, he is being sarcastic and cynical, although he is my favorite cartoon character ever.  Kacie went through a phase where she said this all the time and it was sometimes so annoying.  I wish I could hear her say it again.  What can possibly be good about grief? I would like to say that  I have a magical, inspiring answer for that question, but I don't quite yet. Grief sucks (excuse my language).   It has been a little over two months since Kacie died and it seems like the intensity of the grief gets worse over time instead of better.  Everybody told me that this would be the hard part and they were right.

 Kacie's funeral was beautiful and there were people everywhere to lean on.  I had plans to carry out and family to entertain, thank you notes to write and equipment to return.  Not to mention that I had just watched her suffer more than anyone I had ever seen and there was a strange feeling of relief when it was over and she was safe in the arms of God. Those days right after her passing went by very quickly and way more easily than I imagined.  There were parts of it that were extremely hard, like seeing her in the casket for the first time and for the last time; for the most part though, God gave me exceptional strength through that time.  My husband was a rock for me.  He made all the hard plans so I didn't have to and I could not have gotten through it without him. I was so worried about my other children and how they would do. I am so proud of them for the grace and courage with which they handled losing their sister.  The moment when we all held hands and walked toward the grave site is burned into my memory as the moment when I knew that we would all help each other through the tough days ahead.

Now comes the hard part.   Life goes on around us.  The people who came during the funeral days are gone.  Our chalkboard in the kitchen is once again filled to capacity with appointments and activities.  I stand looking at it knowing that we have to keep living and move forward but at the same time it feels like someone punched me in the stomach and I can't breathe.  How do we begin finding a new normal? How do we go from a life that revolved around cancer and its effects on our entire family to a life free of hospitals? How do we go from living in constant fight or flight mode to letting our guard down and relaxing?  More importantly, how do we go from a life with Kacie to one without her?  I have lost loved ones in the past, including my pap who was one of my favorite people in the world but to lose someone who was such a huge part of my everyday life is different.  Losing someone I took care of 24/7 is different.  Losing someone I gave birth to...is incomprehensible.  There is a huge void in our family now. I still don't even know how to answer when someone asks how many children I have.  Do I just say "six" and leave it at that or do I begin to explain the situation and end up in tears?  There are constant reminders everywhere that she isn't here anymore.  Everything reminds us of her whether it be seeing something in nature or even going to church.  It helps to think of silly things she used to wear or say and we find ourselves constantly saying, "Kacie would have loved this."  Unfortunately though, the same place in my brain that houses the good memories of her is also filled with innumerable painful ones. Most of the time, those are still the freshest in my mind.

For months before she died, I kept asking other parents who had been through the same thing how the anticipitory grief beforehand compared to what it felt like after they were gone. The pain of watching her suffer and get progressively worse and the fear of what my family was about to go through was so intense that I could not imagine feeling any worse.  They all told me it is "just different." It is different and in some ways easier because she is not in pain anymore but balancing that feeling of reassurance with missing her is so difficult.  I am never more than 30 seconds away from tears and I don't know how long that will take to get better.  So many things are hard right now for me.  I am having difficulty socializing because some days I don't want to talk about it and everybody naturally asks.  Even church is a struggle right now for the same reasons coupled with the fact that all the music and many of the scriptures remind me of her.  The nights are especially tough.  I try to stay awake until I am so sleepy that the thoughts and images don't have time to stay in my head very long before I fall asleep.  Although I love to write and I know that I should be capturing all the raw emotion of this time period, I have found it nearly impossible to let myself think about it long enough to make sentences.  I wish I had written down all the details of the weeks and moments before she died and what I felt like the next day, but I just couldn't.  The easiest way to get through the days is to NOT think about it so writing about it was just too hard.  I have been praying for the strength and wisdom to write so that I don't waste this experience but just haven't felt moved to do it. Then,  I was awakened from my sleep before sunrise this morning by my thoughts.  I knew I had to get up (and trust me, I'm not a morning person) and write. I am praying it makes sense and has value for someone who needs it.

I really don't have inspiring things to say about how my family is just breezing through the grief process. The only thing I have to offer is transparency. It is the hardest thing I have ever been through and hope to ever go through.  Each of us is handling things differently and the stages of grieving are like a merry-go-round.  There is sadness and depression, anger and denial, shock and disbelief.  There is avoidance and nightmares, lots of tears and intense longing.  So what's with the phrase "Good grief?" Is there anything good about grief?  I looked up the origin of the phrase and most people say it is a softer version of a phrase like "Good God" that may be considered blasphemous.  As Charlie Brown uses it, it is simply an expression of frustration or exasperation.   As I think about it more, I try to let the words of the phrase remind me to see what good is intertwined in our grief experience.  Believe it or not, in the midst of the negative emotions,  there are lots of times of happiness and joy, laughter and normalcy.  I see hope, courage and amazing resilience in my children.  I hear so many people say "I believe everything happens for a reason" and I believe that with my whole being.  Since the beginning of our journey with cancer, I have held to the belief that God is in control and that He is not surprised by our trials.  I know that He has a purpose for even our grief and loss, so it in fact is ultimately for our good.  Grief definitely does not feel good but I pray that we can be intentional about seeing the good that remains.  We have already begun to understand the reason for us traveling this road, even though it is painful, and someday we will be able to look back and fully see the extent of the goodness that surrounded and resulted from our circumstance. For now, I know that God is good and that is enough for me.