The tsunami strikes again

They hit you out of nowhere, these tsunamis of grief. And, while there are often signs of what triggers them some times you will not see the source. Oddly enough, for me, they usually follow a period of time where I think that things are getting better. I'll finish a day or two with fewer tears and think that perhaps I'm getting to a point where I can handle it. Then I'll hit moments like this where I wonder what the heck happened to my joy. 

Yesterday was an enjoyable day spent with wonderful friends. I tossed a football with a sweet young man and we both had smiles on our sweaty faces. His little sister sat with her cute little cheerleader outfit on next to me during the football game, and,even though my team lost, I went to bed that night with few tears as I thought of the smiles on the kids faces and the good adult conversation I was able to have throughout the day with their beautiful mother. 

As I climbed in bed I continued a ritual I've done for the last 26 years.  I reached my foot over to the other side of the bed. And, just like the 102 days before it, found no foot there to touch with mine. No reassuring touch to make me feel not alone. But, although I once again shed a few tears, they were not overwhelming sobs. I had enjoyed my day. Not just part of my day, but the whole day. 

And the happiness carried over to the next morning as the good memories of the day before overcame the bad memories of the previous three months. At least for a few hours. My bucket was full. The hole at the bottom that lets it slowly drain was draining at a slower rate than it was being filled. Then the tsunami came and knocked the whole darn thing over. So, today I will chase my bucket down and set it back in place. And I will slowly start trying to fill the bucket up. Unfortunately I cannot fill it alone. Fortunately I have friends that are quite willing and able to pour into it. 

One day the hole will only become a slight leak - just like the hole that was first put into my bucket seven years prior. The Lord has done a wonderful job of patching that hole for me. The reconstruction required for the other hole will take time. The hole is larger. Taking a 26 year chunk out of a bucket leaves a lot of damage. But the damage can be repaired. I know it can. I have to believe it. The alternative would be to horrible to contemplate. I'm believing in the repair and I know that God can do it. It's just going to take time. But I will get there. Later rather than sooner, I'm sure. But my heavenly gps is much better than anything Google or Siri could ever give me.

My journey continues. Thanks for going with me.