It’s been two Fridays since I last saw her, since we said our goodbyes. It’s been one Friday since we all gathered together to celebrate her, and I wonder if I forevermore will mark my life by Fridays.
No one teaches you how to grieve, and I’ve never done this before. I felt the loss of things along the journey, but I didn’t know the final goodbye would hurt this deep. I miss my mom. It all seems like a restless night’s dream, and impossible that she’s gone.
There are many books written about grief, but no one fits perfectly in between other people’s pages because we all have our own story.
I guess I’m writing mine now.
So this past week, I decided to be kind to myself, to just be. I walked out under the big blue sky with my people where Jesus felt near, wrapped myself in her quilt as the sun went down each night, and read all the beautiful words written about her over and over – memorizing them in my heart.
I let all the other things go.
And I made it.
I got to Friday.
And now I’ll rest again.
Because goodbye is hard, and loss is deep.
Soon Monday will come, and I’ll do more than I did last week. I’ll slowly pull out the fall decor, clean the spaces I’ve ignored, find my sweaters for the cooler days, jump back into all the book things (because that’s all about honouring her) and keep writing this tender chapter of my life.
With my life.
And I’ll see where I’m at,
the next time it’s Friday.