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.

Celebrating Laynee

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Wednesday, December 9, 2009


 The past several days, perhaps because of the holidays, there has been a very deep feeling of sadness.  At times it is difficult to put a name to whatever it is that we are feeling.  I find that the best way to understand feelings is to recognize their physiology. Sadness presents itself as a thick heaviness.  My limbs, shoulders, chest, and throat feel like they have lead weights attached to them.  This heaviness seems to come from the very depths of who I am.   I go through the motions of the day.  I allow schedule to dictate what I do, where I go.  I eat because it's time to eat, not because I'm hungry.  I sleep when the clock says it's time to sleep, otherwise I'd stay in bed because I seem to always be tired. I exercise because I know it's important, not becasue I feel like it.   The busier I am, the less I notice the heaviness, but sometimes I need to just sit and take note of this heavy feeling.  Sometimes I need quietness, to allow the sadness to be what it is, to feel the aching, to let the tears  flow.

I have a large picture of Laynee in my bedroom, directly across from our bed.  It's my favorite of all pictures ever taken of her.  I get this sense that her big, expressive eyes are on me wherever I am in the room.  Thousands of times I've stopped to kiss that picture. I've talked to it and traced her lips and ears.  I tell that picture how much I love and miss her.  Sometimes I stop, sit on the edge of my bed and just look at it.  I look into her eyes and I feel the deep penetrating sadness.  It hurts, but in some strange way, it know that it is necessary.
Today was the Christmas Program at the preschool where Laynee had just begun attending 2 mornings a week.  While I was at work in my coffee shop, directly across from the preschool, I watched from the window as parents came to see their children.  I watched some of the children walk from the school to the church.  I knew that there were flowers on the altar and a large picture in memory of Laynee, but my little girl was not there.  The sadness that comes from missing Laynee so very much sat very deep and heavy within me today.
I know that in time this sadness will ease to some degree.  I will never think of my Laynee without some level of sadness, though JOY will come again.  But for now, the sadness is there, it is very real.  To deny this sadness is to deny my very existence.   

1 comment:

  1. I lost my best friend Jane to cancer in December of 2003. I can remember how I dreaded that Christmas and a few after that. I have a picture of Jane on my nightstand and I can finally look at it and smile without crying. She loved my girls dearly and called them her little angels. As I've thought about her recently, I can only imagine how she is taking care of your little angel Laynee. Keeping you in our prayers during this Christmas season. Love, Angie