Today is a day of emotion and heartache. I hate that it’s been a month since I last posted… but today I am desperate for the writing therapy and I’m jumping right in.
Two years ago today I lost my dad in a car accident. He was 57 years old. He was leaving our house and headed home after a Friday evening spent with family. I will forever remember him leaving our house that night. “Remind me tomorrow when you’re out to get the Kreg Jig out for you. Love you. See you tomorrow.”
For months I cried myself to sleep…. cried out to Jesus… buried myself in my bible. I cried in the shower when I felt guilty about making my husband pick up my broken pieces. I cried in the bathroom stall at work as silently as I could. I cried every time I was in the car driving by myself. I even remember crying while walking out of a grocery store because the clerk asked me “how are you today?” and it took everything I had in me to put a grin on my face and say “fine”. It’s a crazy limbo of wanting everyone to know that you are absent because you’ve lost a piece of you and not wanting to talk to anyone because it hurts to talk about it. I have never been so broken. I prayed daily… throughout the day… in meetings… while driving… while laying in bed awake all night. I have never been so reliant on God to heal me… to take away the pain… to make me whole again. Could that ever happen? Would I ever feel normal?
And through the brokenness God had a plan for us…
After the loss of my dad we truly recognized how little time we have on Earth and we were committed to making the best of all the time we had left. We stopped pushing off goals and decided to make them happen. We decided there was no reason to wait to have a baby… our lives are too short… let’s just do this.
I was pregnant 3 weeks after our decision to try for a baby. Wow! Not what we expected. My doctor said to expect at least 6 months. Then 8 weeks later I went to my first doctor’s appointment. My doctor excitedly announced “Oh! There’s two in there”. That’s right, TWINS.
Our world changed… our prayers changed. And I realized what God was doing for us.
In all of my pain and brokenness I turned to Jesus. I remained hopeful that life would someday be good again. And even though it was easy to ask “why?” it was never easy for me to blame God for the tragedy that turned our lives upside-down. He took our heartache and blessed us with two… He helped us mend our broken hearts by filling them with more love.
The twins were born 6 days after my dad’s first birthday in heaven. Everyday, I look at our twins and praise God for the love and fullness it has brought to my life. And while I desperately want my children to have their Pawpaw in their lives, something tells me they’ve already met.
Grief is a strange thing. It comes in waves. Sometimes they are little gentle waves that brush upon your toes. And other times, they are unbearable waves that knock you down and swirl you around in the undertow. Grief is never something that is “healed”… it is something you bear… sometimes easy… sometimes debilitating. The truth is, I’ve never gone back to feeling “normal” in the way that normal felt at the time of his passing. There’s a new normal… and honestly I carry guilt with me all the time when the new normal feels okay.
But as a stay-at-home mom to Pawpaw’s favorite little twins, I have never felt so fulfilled… so alive in Christ… so grateful for the blessings we have.
I know this one was heavy. But thanks for being my therapy on an emotional roller coaster day.