Good Grief...Not So Much

I try not to blog about serious things often, because the way I look at it, life is full of the serious.  Sometimes too full. I read light books, I watch fluff shows, and I don't often have deep conversations with very many people. I like to laugh, sometimes that is my defense mechanism, making something seem funny. It is just that I feel safer keeping the world at arm's length at times. Letting someone "in" is a big deal to me. So sharing this blog is a little out of character for me.

Lately, I have been reflecting a lot on grief.  With the passing of my grandma in January, so hard to believe it has been four months, I have been navigating the road of grief.  Having it sneak up on me when I least expect it is what I hate the most.  I think I have it well in hand, and then boom, I am crying like a baby.  My grandma moved in with my family when I was 12 years old, so I can't look back on my life, without her being a major  part of it. Even as I evolved into an adult and started my grown-up traditions with my own family, she was still part of the festivities.  The rational part of my brain DOES understand that at 92 years old she had more than her share of a good run, but grief is NOT rational.  I am explaining this because I find myself angry at God sometimes, and in my own childish way, I would rather avoid Him, than to include Him in my grief.

Currently, our family is traversing another path of impending loss.  It looks different than my grandma's passing in a lot of ways, because the grieving has begun before the death.  When someone is terminally ill, you are given some warning, though not always a lot of time, but each day you find yourself preparing.  Each phone call that comes, each message you read, you wonder if this is the one. My sister-in-law has gone to be with her father now, as his time here is drawing to a close. Maybe because I am not far from 40 these days, 67 sounds ridiculously young to die. It just seems like there is still so much left that he could do. Her dad has been a part of our family for all of the 18 years that she has been married to my brother.  There are so many things I love about her dad, and one of them is he loves a good laugh too.  But most notably, he embraced my family (with our many quirks), as an extension of his. My kids, my husband, and I, we were always remembered by him.  I think one of his love languages was giving gifts. I can walk into several rooms in my house right this minute, and see some gift he has given to one of us. Another endearing thing about him is he has a sort of irreverence, that lets you know that he doesn't take the things in life TOO seriously...at least not the unimportant distractions. He accepts you the way you are, he may not put up with your crap (a much needed quality for a former high school teacher), but he meets you where you are.  That is a rare quality, and not many people can do that well.

So back to God, I want Him to explain Himself, you know? But He is God, so I guess He gets a pass on that kind of thing. My sister-in-law, has already lost her mother to cancer, and you would think that God would sort of say, "You have suffered enough. I will spare you this." But nope. And again I find myself turning my back, plugging my ears, and saying over and over, "I can't hear You, La, La, La,La, I can't hear You!" This is the kind of thing you did to a sibling to just drive him (or her) nuts when you were little. Again, I am acknowledging the irrationality of my grief, but I kind of feel like this is a punishment being exacted, instead of Him walking along beside me in the minefield. But then, maybe I am just not letting Him take the brunt of the explosions. Maybe I don't know how to let Him take the hits for me. Maybe He is trying to explain things to me in His way, but instead I have my ears plugged and eyes closed. I don't know. I don't have any strong conclusions about this, and I am not asking for a sermon from my friendly blog readers.  These are just my thoughts, and how I feel on this night.

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