When grief sneaks in...

The past several years have been full of grief for my extended family. So many loved ones gone...grandparents, great grands, aunts, uncles, cousings, siblings, friends...some after long illnesses, others unexpectantly and seemingly out of nowhere.
It's always such a hard thing to work through. I'm also realizing more and more that it's an unending work to process through all the facets of grief. I used to think you cry a bit, hurt a lot, life goes on and so do you. While that is still true, it's so much more. Every time I think I've moved past it, grief sneaks in and takes me by surprise.
My childhood was less than ideal. Too share much more is way more personal than I'm willing to get on a public blog. However, I will say it was in large part chaotic, confusing and traumatic. One of those traumatic times being when my dad died. I was not quite twelve at the time and by choice, I don't remember a lot. Good memories are few and I think of those at times, but otherwise it's just out of my mind. Then last year, my paternal Grandma became ill and needed care.
That's when grief sneaked in...
...going through the process of her illness, caring for her and then her death. I expected a bit of grief. Really, it's hard to watch someone get sicker and sicker and eventually die. It doesn't matter that they are 98yrs old, that your relationship was rocky or that they are ready to go...it's just hard. What I didn't expect was for 20yr old grief to sneak in, but it did. Grief is tricky how it manifests itself too. As I watched my grandmother die, I felt like I was losing my dad all over again. Okay, that makes sense, sort of. Then comes anger. Weird. I'm still processing how/why I felt angry. It wasn't my job to take care of Grandma, it was my dad's. Why wasn't he there to deal with it?
Grief sneaks in so often in everyday life...
Certain smells, songs, foods, books, interesting how they can all trigger this monster called grief. I am perplexed how I can look into Aaron's eyes and feel such tremendous joy and at the same time such tremendous grief at times. How I can laugh and at the same time almost stop breathing from the crushing weight of grief, remembering why his name is Aaron and just how much I miss my brother everyday.
The whole reason this post came to my mind today, was because of a reminder of the subtlety grief.
We recently hit the two year anniversary of my maternal Grandmother's death and will be coming up on three years for my Grandpa very soon. Outside of my husband and children, my maternal grandparents were the most important people in my life. Yes, I have lots of others I love...my mom, my siblings, etc. My grandparents though, they were my rock for so many years. They believed in me when no one else did. They put up with my rebellion and stubborness when I hurt them deeply over and over. They were proud of me and (after the years of bad choices) the choices I made even when they didn't understand. Christmas was hard for me this year, oddly, moreso than the past two years. However, I moved through that and things have been fine. In the hustle and bustle of life I hadn't even thought about grief for the past couple of weeks.

That is until I showered this morning.

Did I mention grief is odd? The triggers, the times, the subtlety...all so odd.

This morning I showered, as I do every morning. Same routine every day. I wasn't thinking of much more than what needs to be accomplished today. Then I reached for my razor. That's when it happened.

Grief sneaked in...

My razor sits high on the soap holder alongside Kev's soap. Irish Spring original. I've never thought about it before, that's what he's used as long as we've been married. This morning, I noticed it's time for a new bar. All that was there, next to my razor was a thin little sliver of soap.

Grief. Tears.
My first thought was
Why in the world am I crying?
My body responded with tears before I even had a chance to process the thought.

I close my eyes.

Suddenly, I'm seventeen years old again. I'm standing in the bathroom doorway of my grandparents dingy old mobile home. To my left is my grandparents bedroom, to my right is the old washer and dryer. I'm holding a container full of soap scraps. Mostly irish Spring, a few are ivory and whatever other brand was cheapest that shopping trip.
The overwhelming smell though is the Irish Spring and I smell it now just as I did that day.
One reach for a razor on a busy Friday morning and I'm back in that moment.

I'm arguing with my grandmother. I found it utterly ridiculous that she was saving every teeny scrap of bar soap to use for laundry detergent. We had laundry detergent sitting right there for her use. Tempers flared, she told me I could do my own laundry from that point on. In a huff I dumped the soap scraps all over the place and stormed out of the house in my pajamas.

My thoughts are interrupted by the laughter of my children.

Still, grief continues to stand at my side...I'd gladly wash my laundry with Irish Spring scraps if I could have that moment back. To understand her point of view, to see my immaturity, to say I'm sorry and to hug her once more.

Now, a few hours later. Grief is gone again. Kicked out of the house until the next moment it sneaks in unaware. In these moments, I try and process it all and reconcile it.

I choose to grasp truth. The truth is grief is hard, but the memories and the moments past are greater. I do not grieve without hope. I believe there will be a day when I'll be united with these loved ones and that we will worship our Creator together for eternity. I am reminded that as believers, we can grieve with hope. That yes, it's hard when loved ones die, but it's not the end. Better yet, it's really just the beginning. The beginning of something far more wonderful than I can ever imagine. This life and this world is not my home.