Grief Uncensored

Since Friday evening, I’ve had a constant ache…that has grown with each passing moment. Unexpectedly, FRIDAY was hard…as was SATURDAY…as was today. No, not the anniversary dates, so quite unexpected. It took me a while on Friday to figure out what was creeping in…it was the last FRIDAY that Chuck was conscious and that we spoke…it was the last SATURDAY that I kissed him on the cheek…it was the last SUNDAY that I spent with him.

It’s been a while since the ache has been so constant. I had forgotten how hard it is to breathe…to move…to act…to function. Facing the matter head on, I decided to do some “laundry room time,” thus facing my actual pain…in the hope of alleviating some of the sting. I gathered my supplies = candle, Chuck’s wedding ring, toilet paper…as I am currently out of Kleenex. I set the timer for 15 minutes, took a deep breath, then closed the laundry room door.

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly and violently my tears come…and that sound that is so utterly torn that escapes from my lips surprises me still. “Is that me? Is that sound coming from me?” I started to talk out loud…and soon found myself censoring myself…censoring my grief. Thoughts such as “Lean on God, Jan...” or “Cry to Jesus…” or worse, “This is all for a purpose.” How ludicrous…I took a stand….I would NOT censor myself…not for me and certainly not for God. He didn’t want my weak attempts to be strong. It wouldn’t fool him anyway. What he wants…all he ever really wants…is the real deal.

So my words took on uncensored truth as I cried out, “I don’t want to be strong, God. I want to be weak. And I want CHUCK to carry me. I want Chuck. I want Chuck. I want Chuck.” I sounded like the little girl who used to beg for her mom when dropped off with the babysitter. The babysitter was great…kind, sweet…but I did NOT want the babysitter. I wanted my MOM. And that’s how I felt about God in that instant. I DID NOT WANT TO BE CARRIED BY GOD…I wanted Chuck. I wanted to let go and let Chuck speak peace to me. I wanted Chuck to soothe me. I wanted CHUCK.

When is it that we learn to censor our grief? I am so grateful that God…in the midst of my wailing…whispered to me, “yes, yes, yes” rather than “it will be alright…don’t cry…shhhhhhh.”