After a whirlwind week, one in which we had the visitation, burial and memorial, we are still recovering. My parents, younger sister and her little guy were able to come down from Canada and they stayed with us during it all. It was such a blessing to have them here, especially under the circumstances. As I've mentioned before, we (Greg & I) get tired of being strong all the time. It's nice to have someone "older and wiser" to lean on once in a while.
I have to say though, that the whole thing left me rejoicing and feeling very blessed but also very befuddled and disappointed. Rejoicing and blessed because of my extra large family (118 descendants from my grandparents down) and the love and support there is in that. But also disappointed because the opportunity I had to be with them was spent keeping kids quiet and calm, keeping kids fed and happy, and keeping kids still during the long stretches of sitting. Not visiting and "fellowshipping" as I would have liked. I also find it disheartening that at these type of events, I don't know what to say. I'd love to just talk and talk about memories of our loved one that has gone on, but I never know if others want to also. I also don't do well with small-talk on a good day, and when we're grieving and I'm trying to drum up conversation with cousins that I don't see very often (while trying to feed a baby who needs a nap terribly badly), it just doesn't come out very productive by any stretch of the imagination. And that discourages me. I want to have a good conversation with family, about a good (deep as opposed to shallow) topic and reacquaint myself if much time has gone by since the last time I've seen them. I also want to make sure that all the new in-laws are included (those who've married into the family in the past few years), but doing that also takes time and energy that isn't available to me at mass functions.
And the other part, is that I still haven't cried. Oh, tears have almost surfaced a few times, but then vanished before rolling down my cheeks. And that isn't good. Crying is an essential part of healing, and yet it eludes me still. My life still goes on as usual for the most part, but for my aunt, it is drastically changed. I wish I could take some of that emptiness and quietness of his absence away, but I cannot. I do hope that I can help her (and the rest of his and our families) share the burden of grief, and come out positively on the other side of it someday.
So, there's where it's at for me. A bit here and a bit there, but mostly still overwhelmed and in a state of disarray about it all.
I have to say though, that the whole thing left me rejoicing and feeling very blessed but also very befuddled and disappointed. Rejoicing and blessed because of my extra large family (118 descendants from my grandparents down) and the love and support there is in that. But also disappointed because the opportunity I had to be with them was spent keeping kids quiet and calm, keeping kids fed and happy, and keeping kids still during the long stretches of sitting. Not visiting and "fellowshipping" as I would have liked. I also find it disheartening that at these type of events, I don't know what to say. I'd love to just talk and talk about memories of our loved one that has gone on, but I never know if others want to also. I also don't do well with small-talk on a good day, and when we're grieving and I'm trying to drum up conversation with cousins that I don't see very often (while trying to feed a baby who needs a nap terribly badly), it just doesn't come out very productive by any stretch of the imagination. And that discourages me. I want to have a good conversation with family, about a good (deep as opposed to shallow) topic and reacquaint myself if much time has gone by since the last time I've seen them. I also want to make sure that all the new in-laws are included (those who've married into the family in the past few years), but doing that also takes time and energy that isn't available to me at mass functions.
And the other part, is that I still haven't cried. Oh, tears have almost surfaced a few times, but then vanished before rolling down my cheeks. And that isn't good. Crying is an essential part of healing, and yet it eludes me still. My life still goes on as usual for the most part, but for my aunt, it is drastically changed. I wish I could take some of that emptiness and quietness of his absence away, but I cannot. I do hope that I can help her (and the rest of his and our families) share the burden of grief, and come out positively on the other side of it someday.
So, there's where it's at for me. A bit here and a bit there, but mostly still overwhelmed and in a state of disarray about it all.
