Potholes Along The Road To A New Normal – A Man’s Journey Through Grief, continued, #31

I finished my supper and watched the news. I cleaned up the counters with Windex as Mary Helen taught me. The dishes were soaking. I paused and thought back over the past week. I wondered about the weeks ahead.

I’ve used various metaphors in the last year to try and describe my journey through loss. Roller Coasters, amputation, hurricanes, and the grinch of self-pity. It’s time to roll out a new one, potholes.

I can see that I’m gradually paving a new road ahead. There are many twists and turns, precipitous sections along steep, dangerous cliffs, plunges into deep valleys, muddy sections wet with tears, but others that climb to new heights. Most of the way ahead is unfinished and narrow but it looks like a way forward may be possible. But even in some of the sections that I thought were paved carefully, potholes have suddenly appeared. Where do they come from?

Pothole number one. One day I was driving home after a visit with family. The day had gone well. I’d also gathered with a couple of men for Bible study. I’d worked on a writing project. I’d purchased groceries. My supper was planned. Then suddenly I stumbled into a pothole of grief. Why? I have no idea.

Pothole number two. Another day I woke early but lost an hour. Lost? Well, I’m not sure how so much time could have been taken up wallowing around in a pothole of anguish and loneliness. But, hey, life goes on. And the day got brighter and better. Wait, did I mean brighter because I stopped thinking about Mary Helen? No, she is always here in my thoughts but I’m gradually able to have longer and longer periods without overt pain. And that’s good.

I guess what I’m saying is what those who have grieved before me have said again and again. One doesn’t suddenly get over a loss. Grief will carry on year after year and may break out at any time. A picture, a memory may suddenly trigger a pervasive sense of sadness. I need to learn to accept the unpredictability of desolation and move steadily toward the joy of the Lord which he promised.

Part of my struggle is probably due to my age and the length of time Mary Helen and I enjoyed life together. It’s just so counter-intuitive to be alone. Women usually outlive men by 5 years. We had hoped to die together. We even mused about being buried in the same coffin. Macabre? And yet here I am in reasonably good health. And I am thankful!

It’s not as if I have a big why question for God to answer. I know by faith she is rejoicing with the Lord. I know it was his mercy that after a lengthy illness he took her home. But I can understand why those who lose a loved one at an early age have more “why’ questions about their loss. My questions are more, “why am I still stumbling into potholes in the path?” Why can’t I pave a consistently new normal?

I also have lots of “how” questions. How should I move on? I know the Lord doesn’t expect me to pave over the memories. He does expect me to take up the cross daily and follow him consistently.

Then yesterday, I looked back and saw that behind me on both sides of the road I was paving were unmoveable guardrails. And written on the guardrails on one side was the promise; “In All things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose…What [Nothing] shall separate us from the love of Christ?” (Romans 8:28,35) On the guardrail on the other side of the road was written; “He has guided and watched over you all along the way.” (See Psalm 32:8)

But as I looked along the road ahead, I didn’t see any guardrails. It looked dangerous with many muddy potholes. Although, no guardrails were visible, they must be there into all my tomorrows. God was reminding me that throughout my whole life to this point he has guided, protected, and blessed me! “Can you not trust me with today, and tomorrow, and next week?” he would say.

Yes, Lord, I believe. Help me to walk with you one day at a time. You will keep me even when I stumble into a muddy pothole.

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