Grief and Sod: Part 1

It was what would’ve been Dasah’s two-month birthday but instead of taking cute photos of her I was standing at her gravesite for the first time since we buried her. It was a beautiful day and somehow as I was driving that day I found myself turning at the road that goes into the cemetery instead of just driving by as I usually do. Whenever anyone says they’ve just “found themselves” somewhere I’ve always thought they must be a little crazy. Who just “finds themselves” somewhere? Well, that day I became that crazy person. I think of turning every time I’ve driven by and just can never seem to muster up the energy to face whatever emotions the grave would stir. That day I chose not to think and just turn. So there I was, tears streaming down my face as I stood before the gravesites of not one, but both of my daughters. I didn’t know what to do or say. Do I talk to them? Do I just cry? How long do I stay? I never really know. How do you wrap your mind around such a loss? I’m still figuring that out though I’m pretty sure I never will. It was the start of the New Year and for some reason the fact that Dasah was born right before Thanksgiving had slightly warped my view of how much time had passed and made me think it had been much longer then it really had been. I found myself, as the New Year began, wrestling with all of the emotions still stirring within me like relentless waves of grief on the seashore where just when you think the tide has gone far out, it seems to come back in with a vengeance. I’ve been tormented by that awful word “should,” or as someone used to call it “the should bug.” And I’d been bitten by it. “I ‘should’ be more functional” “I ‘should’ be able to accomplish more than one task in a day” “I ‘should’ be able to re-engage with people better” “I ‘should’ be able to initiate with others” “I ‘should’ be able to open the Bible and concentrate” “I ‘should’ be able to pray more” “I ‘should’, I ‘should’, I ‘should’.” I was living in a sea of “should’s” that was overwhelming me and causing me to put pressure on myself to be at a place that I just wasn’t, and I didn’t know where or when the pressure would be released. As I had driven up to their gravesite I was taken aback by the fact that there was still fresh dirt atop Dasah’s gravesite, with a few small blades of grass peaking through (or were they weeds? I’m not sure; grass sounds better).  I didn’t think much of it until I got in the car and took a final glance back. I sensed, “It’s okay; the dirt is still fresh and so is your grief.” The relief that washed over me in that moment was as if the skies opened and rain poured down. And I began to embrace the reality of where I was at and ever so slowly release myself from the “shoulds’ of where I thought I “should” be at (which, as an aside, is a daily battle…those bugs don’t leave quickly). I began to think of looking forward to watching the grass grow, ever so slowly, as I watched new life begin to sprout in my own heart. … To be continued on Monday

Hi! I’m Lindsey. I live in Orlando, Florida with my stud of a husband Kevin. We have 3 incredible children, Sophie and Dasah who now live with Jesus and Jaden who came into our lives through adoption. We have a very energetic golden retriever and love living in the sunshine state. I get to spend my days loving on my son, investing my life in college students here through a non-profit organization we’re a part of and when I have time, writing on my blog about the hope that doesn’t disappoint!

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