I don’t fit in anymore. It’s true.
I can’t seem to find my place.
It’s the strangest feeling. Typically, I’m the fun one, the friendly one, the one with the sparkling personality … yeah, that was me. Grief and loss have changed me forever.
I have this indescribable aching in my heart. Yes, it’s still there. It was five months yesterday that my sweet girl went to be with Jesus, leaving us here alone. And, I feel more alone now than I ever have.
I sit here with tears streaming down my face even as I type this.
Grief is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to walk through. The thing that is comforting to me, believe it or not, is knowing I’m not the only one. There are so many others reeling from the loss of a child. It actually helps me to know that there are others like me and that I can get wisdom from them as they walk through the same thing. I think we all breathe a sigh of relief when we meet someone or hear from someone who has been through similar tragedies.
But, mostly I find myself alone.
Alone. It’s become where I feel most at home.
Alone is where I feel most comfortable.
It’s where I fit in right now.
I don’t have to put on a happy face. I can cry on the floor of my bedroom and no one will try to comfort me or pick me up. I can get on my knees and just talk to God about all this. I know He’s here with me. I ask for His help 24/7. I don’t even have to ask anymore, He recognizes my gasps for air and knows I need Him at that very moment.
Despite the fact that I can be surrounded by people, I still feel alone. I still don’t fit in. Really anywhere.
I’m trying to be okay with that. I think this is going to be my new “normal.” I’m learning to cope with the fact that I could be surrounded by friends and family, conversation and laughter, but, inside, I’m alone. My mind is racing back and forth … memories of Katie and our lives the last few years. My heart could be aching in the midst of laughter actually. Who wouldn’t want to hang out with me, right?! Geez. I’m sure I’m loads of fun.
I have to laugh though. I just have to. I try to laugh as much as I can.
My heart can’t take all this sadness.
But, honestly, sorrow has been my closest friend for the last five months. He’s always there, whether I want him around or not. I pray for the day that we can be more like acquaintances and not bffs.
I write all this not for you to pity me. Please … I do NOT want your pity.
This is what grief is like, day in and day out. I write to give you an inside glimpse into a life of grief. I write also as my own personal therapy. Thanks for sitting in this session with me. I know that there will come a day when grief will not be all I write about. I write also because there will come a day when you will experience it too. It’s a given. The Bible says that there is a time to grieve.
But, the good news is that the opposite end of that verse says that there’s also a time to dance.
I don’t do much dancing nowadays. But, gosh … one day, I want to. I long to dance and laugh. I long to not feel alone. I long to fit in. I long to find my place.
But, right now, I simply wait.
I wait for God to do what He will with me.
I wait to see the end of this story.
I wait, most of all, to see my Katie, standing with Jesus on that last day.
Thank you for being patient with me as I wait, as I grieve, and as I write all about it.
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