Some people say that grief is like a rollercoaster and I get it, the ups and downs, twists and turns yes, very clever. However, I love rollercoasters but, I'm not loving... this.
I would say it's more like you've gone for a walk in the dead of winter, everything around you reminds you of the loss in your life: the leafless trees, the cold, the hard ground, brown grass, frozen streams and on and on. You keep walking because moving is the only thing keeping you sane, you round the bend thinking that you're going to be "ok", the worst it behind you and than BAM out of nowhere an icy breeze smacks you in the face, burning your lungs as you inhale, stinging your eyes and making your nose run. You run to the next bend which is more sheltered and continuing walking, thus, the cycle continues.
I'm reminded daily that my father is no longer on this earth; some days I find joy knowing that I had a good father, remembering all the good times and being thankful. It's not too bad, I'm moving forward... but then something hits deep, like that icy breeze, out of nowhere and I find myself crying, a deep, ugly, groaning cry whether I'm laying in bed, driving, listening to a song, talking to someone... it doesn't care. It hits and I feel like my world is falling apart all over again.
Last night was one of those times.
I'm a week away from flying back to Haiti, it's been a crazy and emotional month with; the first holiday without dad, gathering shoeboxes, checks for uniforms, figuring out baggage and just all the craziness of life I haven't really stopped moving and if I do stop it's to pass out on the couch or try and get lost in book or movie, not wanting to think or cry. But last night I had a little freak out about the trip and whether we were going to have enough large suitcases, if all the shoeboxes are going to make it, what if one get's stolen... I was spiraling and stressing out really for no reason - don't bottle up your emotions kids it's not healthy and get's confusing.
After talking to Jared and trying to just put everything aside by going to bed I knelt by my bed to pray - I don't normally do this but I found myself there. I didn't get very far in my prayer "Father God" was all it took to send me into sobs, "Father" I don't get to call someone walking through the door that or someone making pancakes in the kitchen, I don't have that "word" here on earth anymore. Yes, I know I'll see him again, yes he's gone but not really gone, yes. Please spare these comments. I KNOW all of this but it's one of those head and heart things, I know in my heart this is all true and in my heart I feel like I have come to grips with this but my head doesn't always remember that and my brain flips out.
As I sat sobbing on the floor by my bed I realized that I wasn't really stressed or upset about all these other things that I've been blaming... I was upset because my father was supposed to go to Haiti with me. I wanted 8 people to come on the trip and got really mad when there were only 7 and I just figured out why... his seat is still empty, that void is still there; I'm missing a teammate. Dad had been looking forward to going to Haiti again and I was looking forward to showing him more of the Haiti that I love and having more conversations about Haiti and the future, sitting there with our legs in the pool and a breeze going through the grapevines he'd just finished pruning. There were things I wanted to do that I didn't get to last time as I was stressed out about how the first time around was going to go and it had been basically a year since we'd seen each other in person... dumb excuses, the if only's started to creep in and I sobbed and sobbed.
Why couldn't we have a couple more months with him and finished this year?! Why couldn't he have come to Haiti one more time?! Why couldn't You wait to take him till I was married and had kids that he KNEW and loved?! One more birthday, one more holiday, one more conversation, why couldn't we just have one more?!?! But, as these questions escaped my lips I knew the answer to every single one. I'm not mad at God. These things weren't said in anger or bitterness, they just needed to be said from this broken and hurting girl, sobbing before His throne. He understood me. He understands what it's like and He just sat with me, letting me cry, picking up my tears and crying with me - it was humbling.
I trust Him though I don't understand, I know it was God's perfect timing though it doesn't seem like it somedays, I know it's going to be ok. But, I miss my dad, I miss his hugs, I miss his voice, I wake up Sunday mornings wishing I could hear his voice coming down the hall, belting out "Oh What a Beautiful Morning" or "Blessed Assurance" and to hear his loud knock on my door... "Time to get up Hoper, don't want to be late for church.... you up?" haha sometimes I wouldn't answer because I knew he'd come in, rip of my sheets and tickle me.... Oh goodness.... I wait almost every Sunday but it doesn't come and sometimes I yell at my siblings when they knock on my door instead - sorry guys!
As my tears slowed I head Him say "It's going to be okay" and it will be. It's going to be hard, hard to not keep brushing feeling and memories aside, trying not to cry, hard when he's not there for things but, my dear sweet Madame Sue from Haiti sent me this the other day and... it's perfect:
"I had my own notion of grief.
I thought it was a sad time
That followed the death of
someone you love.
And you had to push through it
To get to the other side.
But I'm learning there is no other side.
There is no pushing through.
But rather,
There is absorption.
Adjustment.
Acceptance.
And grief is not something you complete,
But rather, you endure.
Grief is not a task to finish
And move on,
But an element of yourself -
An alteration of your being.
A new way of seeing
A new definition of self." ~ Gwen Flowers
Andrew Peterson is coming to my church tonight for his Behold the Lamb tour, dad loved Andrew Peterson and would have loved to be there tonight; and he will be in spirit as the majority of his children go. Packing a boatload of kleenex.
I'm excited for Haiti, I'm glad I have the opportunity and the health to go back for a bit and deliver these shoeboxes but, our team will be missing a 6' 4", brown haired, blue eyed guy, cracking jokes and singing the wrong words to songs. Love and miss you dad <3
