It probably won’t surprise you to hear that I feel awkward most all of the time. So why would my grief be any different?
It’s an odd and clumsy thing to grieve over an ex-husband. We were high school sweethearts, married, had four children, and divorced. Grieving the loss of a relationship is often compared to death. I can see the comparison, but it is different. I liked that my ex-husband was alive on this planet. I liked that he and his wife were a part of my children’s life. I celebrated his success at work. And I often turned over to God our failure to remain married. There is shame in failure. Deep shame. But there is grace available, and I claim every drop.
My now-husband understands the grief of losing a former spouse. He also grants me grace to grieve. I had asked him once what I would feel if my ex-husband didn’t survive his cancer. He said you can’t know until it happens. He was right.
Something else I’ve noticed. When I am sad about one thing, I am sad about everything – every broken thing. Tears are always one thought or song away. And not only for my broken things but other peoples’ broken things. Friends who have lost loved ones, problems many of us share, the difficulties of life. I can’t tell you how sad I am at this moment for not buying lunch for that homeless kid I saw the other day at a fast food restaurant. At the moment I was annoyed that he was taking up a seat and we had to wait. Oh, I wish I could go back in time and buy him lunch.
Sometimes I feel like my heart has been beaten with a tenderizing mallet.
Anyway, awkwardly I march on, helped and held up by your prayers for me and my family (thank you). I want to be present. I want to feel what I feel, and allow others to do the same. It helps me to know that I can trust God with all things. Even loss. Especially loss.
Thank you for reading.