A friend whose husband passed away recently said she didn’t like Sundays anymore, because it is the day he died.
I get it.
Some of us are affected so deeply by loss that little things that may seem strange to someone else are huge triggers for us.
It may be a song, a show, a smell, a car.
Yea For my family, it’s KFC. Sounds weird, I know.
The evening the coroner came in our driveway, we had sat down to eat some chicken that I picked up on the way home from a cleaning job. I’ll never forget having a bite of chicken in my mouth, my husband walking two strangers into my kitchen, and suddenly, my mouth was like cotton. Every drop of spit, gone.
I knew this was not good news.
One of the gentlemen told me I should sit down, and I refused because I had the feeling I might not get back up, once on the couch.
I can play the scene in my mind very clearly, 2 1/2 years later.
Where each of us were standing, the questions this stranger was asking, as he was trying to piece together why a perfectly healthy looking, 24 year old man, collapsed in a customers garage, unresponsive….gone.
And I relive the look on the faces of my husband and son…the wailing, the weeping, the screams of disbelief.
This can’t possibly be true!
How will I tell his brother, his aunts, his girlfriend…..
So much rushing through the mind of a mother.
I don’t know how we survive these tragedies, how we ever go back to some semblance of “normal,” except by the grace and strength of God Almighty.
It’s a rollercoaster, this journey we are on.
I’m ready for it to be over, and move on to the next ride.
This one has taken it all out of me.
Jesus, it can’t be long……