Sunshine

Every morning when I wake up I'm eager to see if the sun is shining. It almost serves as a barometer for how I'm going to experience my grief for the day. I feel more hopeful, brighter, even brave when the sun is out. Bring clouds or rain, and oh boy am I troubled. I often feel like a little child, trying to find my way in this unfamiliar world of heartache. Perhaps the most unusual aspect of this experience is that my will, my actions, can have no impact upon the outcome. I can not bring Dad back. Unlike a difficult marriage, (let's get counseling or go on a vacation) weight gain, (I must get to the gym and stop with the bread!) a dead-end job (better call a recruiter), or virtually anything else in life, death locks you out. Suffering is my only option. Ugh. My relief is primarily through distraction, solitude, or knowing that one day, I will feel Dad's hugs again when I arrive in heaven. I know it, and there IS some comfort in that, but it's not sufficient. Psalm 69:1 says it best for me right now: "Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck." That sound you hear is me grasping for air.