The truth about grief, in my opinion
I posted today on Facebook the lyrics to one of my favorite old hymns: "it is well, it is well with my soul" and it's the truth. Deep down, in the core of my soul, I know that it is well. That dad is whole, and that I am going to be OK. That life is short and precious, and that it keeps on going. But before you think I'm either lying, or sub-human, or both, let me admit that there's another layer, one not so deep. It's actually quite shallow, this one. And it is sad--which is to be expected, right? But wait. Even more than sad, it is irritable and distracted. It resents the fact that life has to keep on going, particularly when that life involves hungry children and dirty laundry. It sits down to respond to sweet e-mails and can't bring itself to reply a single word of thanks. Not for lack of time, but lack of energy. I have waves of feeling angry at Dad for leaving us so early, so that no more good memories can be made. And then old memories wash ove