New grief on top of old

[This was written less than a week after my dad passed away, on January 17th of this year. This photo, of me with our son Michael and my dad, is both precious and painful to me. It was taken in 2016, two years before we lost Michael, and now...they're both gone.]  

Grief lands differently, when it lands on the barely-healing scars of other grief.

 The healing that has taken place is not necessarily undone, but the fresh hit strikes very tender places. It lands on fragile new skin and deep old bruises and already-frayed nerves.

The fact that I have experienced deep, beautiful healing and learned to rest in God, in real and meaningful ways...does not mean that fresh loss does not make me sad. Every loss, especially big loss, still brings all the genuine and normal waves of heartbreak. 

Even when the path of loss is familiar, we still have to walk it. We don't get a "skip to the end" card, just because we've taken the journey before.

Making the slow, heavy walk of sadness with a fresh loss is not a measure of faith or lack of faith. It is normal and human and healthy. 

It is a "yes, and..." experience, like all grief.

It is, "Yes, I am grateful to know that this loved one is no longer suffering, is with Jesus, is dancing with joy and celebrating with loved ones gone before," and, "I am really sad and my heart hurts and my skin feels fragile and I can hardly tolerate food and sleep is difficult and this is so heavy and hard." 

My dad, brilliant, exuberant, opinionated, endlessly enthusiastic, filled with childlike wonder and curiosity, energetic, knowledgeable, gifted, challenging to live with and so talented in so many ways, has been bed-bound in a nursing home for over five and a half years, with few words and growing confusion. If memory serves me correctly, he went into the nursing home on the first anniversary of our son Michael's death. That was quite a day.  

While we are deeply grateful for the sweet times we've had with Dad in these past few years, and profoundly thankful for the kind, faithful care he received at the Veteran's Home...it was hard for all of us, him most of all.

So when, early last Friday morning, he slipped the bonds of this earth and journeyed to Heaven, it was a mercy, as well as a painful loss. 

How do I feel? I have no idea. I feel numb and I feel every-which-way.