Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Impatient

I'm waiting.
Waiting for something to happen.
Preferably good.
Usually, I would be the one going out and doing something...like the saying, "God helps those who help themselves."

The only problem is, I don't know how to help myself this time.

I'm trying to find a new sense of normal since Will. But the problem is...I've never had a sense of normal since we moved here. School started this week. I know that I shouldn't, but I can't help but think how teaching at A.V. would be such a welcome distraction right now. Teaching use to be my "sense of normal," but not anymore.

Maybe that is the point. God doesn't want me distracted. And so here I sit and its driving me crazy. Because if I were to sum up the year 2008 so far...I have one word that I can say: waiting. (The other will remain in my head...)

And I've never taken a survey, but I'm pretty sure that everyone hates to wait. And I am just as impatient as everyone else. I'm not patient because feeling this way is horrible. Grief is lonely. And I just want to be happy again. But unlike other situations, this one is different. You can't talk yourself out of it, because this is significant. Will's life was significant.

And now my life seems so insignificant.

So instead of only grieving Will, I am trying to deal with so many other things...And I am overwhelmed. My emotions are overwhelming. Intense sadness to sheer anger. The kind of anger I have never experienced. The kind of anger only deep suffering can bring. And only by the grace of God, do I find myself able to get out of bed every day and face that suffering. Because I really don't know what else to do with myself.

Most people probably think that after 7 weeks, things should be getting better, easier.
Hardly. I just read that this intense grieving can last anywhere from 18-24 months...I know I am way too impatient for that.

Moments come out of nowhere when I am alone and realize how much this all really hurts.
Like when the doctor called yesterday to tell me that Will was chromosomally normal...
And when I checked the mail only to find his Social Security card...
And then at night when I lay awake and realize that this really is my life now...and I can't help but hate it.

Before Will was born, I likened this whole experience to one of Tim's deployments to Iraq.
It sucked. But there was hope.
Hope in knowing that it would be over eventually...hope because he was still alive.
I would get asked, "How do you do it? Aren't you sad with him gone?"
My reply was always the same..."Until I get a knock on the door, I really have no reason to be sad."

Will was my knock on the door.

The kind of knock when you realize you are not in control. The kind of knock when you realize that no matter how hard you prayed and believed, God wanted something different. And the kind of knock where you realize your life is not playing out how you dreamed or anticipated or planned...I always knew one was coming I just didn't know when.

For me this knock was realizing that my beautiful baby is now gone. Along with all of our hopes and dreams and plans for moving back to Michigan to raise a family. Gone is my teaching job that I quit to come back here, along with all of our friends we met along the way. Gone are any expectations of a future. Because for the first time in my life~I have none. The only thing that won't ever be gone is how much we miss Will.

Well, I do have one expectation. That something good will come from all of this suffering...that I will be led to whatever it is that I am supposed to be doing now. I can't help but wonder what that is.

And so, I guess I'll have to keep waiting.

2 comments:

Megan Smith said...

One minor correction...

The friends you made here in Cali will never be gone! Maybe we are a few thousand miles away, but I think of you every day Julie. I was cleaning out a box the other day and I stumbled upon what can only be called the greatest motion picture of all times: The David Llama Project - oh yes my friend! SO, see...even though you may have "moved" on with your life, God has little ways of keeping you tied to all of us that love you here in Cali - you're just so darn like-able we just can't help ourselves :)

Also...

It may not seem significant in relation to your loss and all the pain you are feeling, but by sharing Will with friends, families and even strangers, something wonderful HAS come out of this. You have touched SO many people Julie - reminded all of us that life is beautiful, but fleeting and we need to treasure every second of it; demonstrated to those of us who lose faith over little things that God is GREAT and faithful and even though He doesn't always give us what we want, He always gives us what we need.

I am praying that an abundance of "good" things will be coming your way - God knows you deserve a break! :) Praying every day for strength and comfort so that you can deal (I imagine you'll never fully heal) with every new day.

The "glass half full" side of me says that you should make a HUGE paper chain like the one from the hospital and every day that you remove a link, think about how you are one day closer to being reunited with Will in heaven.

Sending you my warmest hugs and STILL amazed every day by your strength and grace!

Megan Smith said...

PS - I'd like to get in on the survey and second that I people do NOT like to wait! I can feel you on that one!!!