I spoke last night at Roberts Family Funeral Home in Forest Lake. One of the women attending came up to me afterward and commented, "Grief is sneaky." I smiled and said, "That is a perfect way to put it."
She continued, "You never know what grief is up to and why it does what it does."
I nodded, understanding clearly what she was describing. Just that morning I had found myself floundering and questioning if I really was the best person to give a talk about grief and healing and hope.
"Like getting up in the morning and thinking this will be a good day," she told me. "Then you look at the clock and it is 4:00 PM and you wonder what you have done all day."
Did she know she was describing my day? How accurate! Grief has a way of disorienting the best made intention. My plan was to have everything ready for my talk that morning and when I glanced at the clock it was 4:00 PM and I was scrambling to gather my things for the evening. I could blame it on being a single-mom. I could blame it on being disorganized. I could blame it on grief. And I wouldn't be wrong for that.
Or maybe I will just call it life. Life isn't always neatly packaged, perfectly in place and ready on time. Life can be sneaky for us all. In different ways, at different moments.
I'm just hoping we are sneakier. That no matter what grief delivers or life brings or even what we do to ourselves...we will find a way to out-smart, out-wit, out-stand the delirious making days and somewhere find a few composed moments. A place to say, this will be a good day...sneaky or not.
Well said, Tracie. We are a year and a half past my dad's death and I'm always caught off guard when the grief "sneaks" in when you least expect it. It's so strange when you think with an extended illness that you have all this time to prepare yourself for saying goodbye and preparing yourself for your loved one's absence...and then you find that time does not factor into how raw the grief can be afterwards, even when you least expect it.
Posted by: www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1264821066 | November 07, 2009 at 05:51 PM
When my kids were little and I needed them to do something quietly, we'd practice our "ninja sneak." They were into ninjas. Slowly and stealthily they'd creep along. It was almost scary how two energetic little boys could become silent shadows gliding along. I can absolutely imagine grief as a ninja, moving along without a sound but always watching, waiting and wondering where it can strike next.
Posted by: Tracie Shroyer | October 24, 2009 at 07:56 AM