Teardrops along the Way to a New Normal – A Man’s Journey Through Grief continued, #20
Over seven months have gone by since the condo began to echo with emptiness. Mary Helen has gone home. But I am here, trying to press on towards a new normal.
Some days go by without my fountain of tears gushing forth. Perhaps, I’m learning to live again. Strong. Self-reliant—okay, not really. Washing clothes. Tidying up. Making meals. Grocery shopping. Going to the men’s Bible study…even to church. Paying bills. Forcing myself to take a walk. Being friendly with neighbours even when they ask how I am. Surely, I’m going to be able to do this.
Then in a book I’m reading, I come to a description of the hero caring for his wife during her last days. He is gazing at her picture. And I lose it. That’s me! I’m lost in memories of the last two years. I turn my head and gaze at her picture on the wall beside my recliner. How can I carve a new normal out of this loss?
A couple of days go by. I’m writing part of our story and I come to a description of Mary Helen getting the kids ready for boarding school. I find a picture. There she is—was. Such a loving, caring mother. So good with people whether they be Pakistani or USAid workers. And here I am trying to muddle through without her. It feels so wrong. Oh, I know she is in heaven. I know God took her there in His perfect time. Lord, it’s just that I can’t seem to get my head around her being gone. Without her I’m only half a person.
I go in for cataract surgery and begin the long process of healing with its regimen of eye drops. A couple of days later I catch the flu or some mysterious bug that isolates me in my condo. Days go by. I’m preoccupied with my eye and my cough and my congestion. I haven’t thought too much about Mary Helen. Maybe that’s what I needed. Something to take my attention. But it sure would be nice to have her here to commiserate and make me a cup of lemon spitzer.
A week goes by. I’m feeling a little better, so I decide to tackle one of the tasks I’ve been putting off. Time to throw out the pile of sympathy cards I’ve collected. But I begin to read a few of their comments about Mary Helen and lose it. Yes, that was who she was!
Another day. Another night. Another morning. Here I am Lord. An unknown future lies ahead. At this age, it’s not as if I have some job to go to every day. True, I can stare at this computer screen and try to craft something uplifting, or at least honest, for your people. But my motivation is weak. My sense of direction is fuzzy. My body is tired from trying to be normal. I need your help, Lord. A fragment of verse comes to mind. I look it up…
“When my heart was grieved…I was senseless…Yet I am always with you, you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:21-26).
Ah, Lord, there it is—comfort, perspective, hope, and daily help!
