I think many people believe the "special" days are the hardest for those who grieve, the anniversaries, birth dates, holidays, etc. And while they most assuredly are difficult, it's the things in the normal, every day life that grief affects the most. As I worked around the house today doing chores and writing out bills, it was the setting of the table, the sorting of the laundry, and the planning of the menu that consistently reminded me that Matt is gone. The waves of grief have changed their tsunami-style approach to smaller, incessant rolling waves, the kind that eventually wear rock down or carve channels through the landscape. Though maybe not as initially destructive, they are just as powerful.
There are so many routine things that have changed since Matt died. I no longer fill out the entire 12 month calendar with each kids' week of dish duty. I don't assign chores in order from oldest to youngest like I used to. I don't use being too tired as an excuse anymore not to tuck them in at night, because I now know the reality that it may possibly be the last. I struggle with how to say certain things now. Things like when I'm referring to the kids, from the second-born to the fifth-born. I cannot say, "the oldest four", because it's NOT my oldest four. So how do I refer to them? I typically just say each of their names even though it takes longer. *sigh*
The past month has been incredibly difficult. I think because I've been fighting with God. Wrestling with Him because I do NOT want the death of my child, my teenager, to be a part of my story. I don't. Yet it's rather stupid, isn't it? Because I also fully know/understand that there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I can't change it. I can't make it go away. All I can do is cling to God. Cling to Him daily and trust that some day, it will be alright.
Streams in the Desert (devotional in part)
Cling to God in Faith
"I will not let thee go, except thou bless me ... and he blessed him there." (Gen. 32:26, 29).
Jacob got the victory and the blessing not by wrestling, but by clinging. His limb was out of joint and he could struggle no longer, but he would not let go. Unable to wrestle, he wound his arms around the neck of his mysterious antagonist and hung all his helpless weight upon him, until at last he conquered.
We will not get victory in prayer until we too cease our struggling, giving up our own will and throw our arms about our Father's neck in clinging faith.
What can puny human strength take by force out of the hand of Omnipotence? Can we wrest blessing by force from God? It is never the violence of wilfulness that prevails with God. It is the might of clinging faith, that gets the blessing and the victories. It is not when we press and urge our own will, but when humility and trust unite in saying, "Not my will, but Thine." We are strong with God only in the degree that self is conquered and is dead. Not by wrestling, but by clinging can we get the blessing. --J. R. Miller