We went back to Sarah’s grave this morning to take pictures of the flowers that people have brought. It is hard to express thoughts and feelings in those situations, particularly if you’re afraid they will upset people you care for. And comfort is difficult to receive because there is no taking away of the pain, sadness and disappointment – the sense of yawning loss.
Deep inside I still have a tight, hot ball of grief, burning away. It’s a place I can find if I want, but with each month it settles a little deeper and the mental tissues around it become more used to it sitting there. I HAVE to determine not to let it shape my life, but instead to be shaped by Jesus hands. That sounds like a lot of pious claptrap, but without His input I’d just have folded up in a ball and let the world roll away.
But yes, isolation is a problem. It’s a little like depression, in that you feel wretched and just want to hide. There’s a selfish quality too, that has to be fought, that makes you feel like the emotions are all there is for you and that you’ve a right to just sink out of sight in them. It can cut you off from those you love and then makes you wonder if there’s a new future out there, discounting the value of what you already have.
So by the grace of God I carry on. Not really a martyr like this makes me sound, but because there is no better way for me to go: for me and those I love and care for. Any other direction would be far worse. And I don’t exactly hide my feelings, so much as let them carry on along a parallel path. Me, but not here, not right now.