When I was a senior in high school we all had to write a research paper for a final grade in Senior English class.  Mine was called “The Grieving Process”.  I suppose I felt a little like an expert on the topic given the events of that year.  I remember getting an A on that paper.  But even more vivid is the memory of the healing that I experienced from writing it.  I learned that I wasn’t crazy or alone in my reactions to losing Mom.  Sitting throughout the entire funeral dry-eyed, consoling others who had come to console me, and serving food at the dinner afterward – normal.  Going back to school the following Monday and resuming regular activities – normal.  Oh – and the night I totally lost it while leading cheers in front of a gym full of people because I realized she wasn’t sitting in the stands watching me – turns out that was normal too.  I cried for three straight days after that.  I had moments of rage at the cancer that took her, at my dad who wasn’t really present for my sister and me and at God for allowing all of it to happen.  I went to college, drank myself into denial, and returned home to find that it was all real despite my attempts to pretend otherwise.  And eventually the pain eased a little.  My life settled into a new kind of normal.  Different people slowly filled in the spaces left by the loss.  New opportunities offered hope that my life would still continue even though hers wasn’t allowed to.  Day by day I learned to apply the wisdom she had instilled in me to the newness of my future, and I was able to celebrate the past without feeling actual physical, piercing pain in my heart.

I’ve decided that we must be genetically wired to handle grief in our own particular ways.  Each time I’ve experienced a loss since then has been eerily similar.  I am stoic and emotionless in the moment when others are crying.  I melt down when it isn’t remotely logical to do so.  I get really, really mad and curse whatever seems to be the cause of my loss and after a while I accept it and move on.

I’ve been grieving over a change in my life lately.  I recently hit the melt down part.  The anger still comes and goes.  I think I’m moving towards acceptance though and I’m looking forward to that.  As much as I hate change and fight it at every turn, experience has taught me that it’s an unavoidable part of this life and depending on our attitude, can make each moment all that more precious.  Living my life with the realization that nothing is guaranteed to be there tomorrow or the next day has made me appreciate the good things while they last.  For now there is still a dull ache in my heart each time I recall what I’ve lost.  But I have hope and anticipation that soon it will be replaced by joy and celebration for what was and what will yet be.

And MAYBE once I’m on the other side I’ll be able to write a happy blog entry.  That will be a welcome change.