After several weeks of bitterly cold temperatures and gray, gloomy days, we have had a a bit of reprieve from the harshness of winter. The past couple of days we have welcomed temperatures in the 40's and more importantly, sunshine.
The break in the weather has not come a moment too soon. I have felt recently as if I am constantly fighting against a pull toward a perpetual downward spiral. Sorrow and grief continue to weigh heavily upon me and dreary, damp days have done little to brighten my outlook. Added to this was the fact that due to large amounts of snow I was unable to get to Laynee's place at the cemetary without trudging through heaps of snow. I had not realized before this how very important my visits to her site have been. Yesterday, I was grateful to find that the lane around the cemetary had been cleared. Her site is bright and colorful with flowers, balloons and valentines, a testimony to the love that our little girl knew.
I continue to struggle in the quest to find something that resembles a new normal. Her abscence continues to make itself known wherever I go. The waves of pain continue to crash against me and sadly, what I am finding is that this is becoming normal. At times I find myself wishing for the shock and numbness of the weeks and months immediately following the accident. That seems almost preferrable to the dull, throbbing ache that is now a part of my existence. The pain no longer takes me by surprise. It has, in varying degrees, become my constant companion and I suspect it will be so for a very long time.
I do not function as I once did. My task oriented nature has greatly diminshed. I know that I do not accomplish nearly as much in a day as I once did and there is a part of me that says this should bother me. It doesn't! Instead, I wonder what exactly it is that I was always striving for. Exhaustion seems to have become a part of who I am. The constant war of emotions that wages within requires enormous amounts of energy.
Today, Valentine's Day, we celebrated with our traditional candle light dinner. I made cookies with the names of each of my family written in white icing. As I wrote Laynee's name on a cookie, my heart ached with the knowledge that she will not taste it's sweetness. To some it may seem meaningless to prepare a cookie for a child who no longer walks this earth. To me it is a small expression of my deep love for my child. In no way does such an act fill the longing that I have for her but it does, in the smallest of ways, tell of that longing.
CS Lewis once said that "grief is like the sky, it covers everything." In recent weeks, our family has found that this is so very true. It seems that there is no right or wrong way to travel this path of grief. I have created this blog in hopes that some day we will be able to look back on our journey and see written proof that our great God never leaves us. God is good all the time.