I have tried to write literally five different posts tonight. I would get about two paragraphs into it and then delete it all. As much as this blog is a healing tool for me, I do find myself censoring some of the things that are really difficult to express. I think it has to do with trying to get back into society again. It is a bit….awkward at times. I see people who see me and struggle to know how to respond. I get it. Sometimes I don’t know how to respond to me either. And frankly, if I were in their shoes, I don’t know if I dare come up and ask how I was doing either. I understand. Because the reality is, there are a lot of situations that have proven to be difficult for me that used to be normal. They are hard. SO, I have decided to take the plunge and share one….
Church. I struggle to go. Not because I don’t love my church or the people there, but WOW it is an emotional few hours. My emotions are so raw and exaggerated and they either come spilling out uncontrolled or I have to focus a great deal of my energy to keep it in check. Father’s day was a really difficult day for Robbie and me. It was my first Father’s day without my dad and it was Robbie’s first without Emilie.
I struggled to even breathe and I went back and forth about staying or leaving. I was missing my dad and all his amazing advice I so desperately need. I missed his comforting hugs and the way he used to hold my hand.
I missed watching Robbie and his sweet relationship with Emilie. I loved watching her orchestrate her sisters to the perfect hiding places to jump out and surprise Robbie when he would come home from work. That is one thing they shared in common that I never understood, their love of surprises. Emilie always genuinely cared so much about what her daddy did when he was away at work. Robbie always would have to give her a debriefing about the babies he was taking care of at the hospital and how they were all doing. Often times, Robbie would pull out his old college text books and show her pictures of the human anatomy so he could explain things better to her. Robbie would always say to me in private, “I think she should be a doctor some day.” I loved watching their sweet interactions and the way she would look out for him. If there was a moment where Robbie was left sitting alone, it wasn’t long till Emilie noticed and would quickly curl right up next to him.
At church, it is tough to see others there with their families intact and all their children running around frustrating their parents who are trying to get them to behave and be quiet. It is so easy to feel envious of them. What I wouldn’t give to be outnumbered again.
I sat there last Sunday, trying to breathe and not lose all control, and then a thought came to my head, How do you look? I paused. The thought came again, How do you look? How do I look? Why would that thought come into my head? How did I look? I sat there, I am sure with red swollen eyes looking like a wreck. And then my mind started to really think about how I looked and how I had seen this look before. It was the same look my dad had after my grandpa had passed away seven years ago. The look my sweet friend had on her face four years ago the day I had gone to the funeral for her child that had an passed away unexpectedly. My mind began to race through all the times in my life where I had seen that look in someone else’s eyes and tried to understand it and couldn’t. All the times I wanted to comfort them and didn’t know the words to use. My heart began to fill with so much love for these people who had been baring this pain for so long. I thought about what Heavenly Father must have felt watching his son suffer and die. What was the look on his face? This is all still so new to me and I am still learning how to function under these new circumstances. But, for that moment, I felt like I wasn’t alone. Like there were many who understood how I was feeling. And for whatever reason, knowing that they understood helped pick me up a bit. Mostly, it gave me hope.