Living a life full of liveliness includes grieving

I think it's obvious to anyone that knows me, or interacts with me often, that I'm not really myself at the moment. That's what drives me nuts about my moment in the ditch: I'm just not myself. Normally, I don't drive into ditches. I'm tired often, possibly entirely due to an emotionally draining last year but also due to my brain churning on bigger issues. I struggle to enjoy cooking and even feel overwhelmed with some of the basic tasks to be done. It's fair to say that recent events are still hanging painfully hard on me.

I've been reading articles here and there online about grieving. They all seem quite academic, and there isn't much in the way of practical help. Talking with Steve the other day helped a lot. Steve often seems to put things in a very practical way. He was expressing some of his own experience with his Father dying, and he said that his father dying just made things different. The world was changed, and getting used to the world being different is something that people that are grieving need to adapt to. That is the grieving process. That made sense to me, and is some good practical help.

If you had asked me a year ago how grieving would go, I would have said very little about the bigger picture, and talked about a relationship with the person that died. I thought my head would be swimming about my my Father and what was lost, and possibly yet undone between us. But instead it seems to be quite backward. I don't think about our relationship at all: nothing seems left undone, no unanswered questions on my mind, no unfinished business. But yet, my brain spins on a world that is different.

Scott Peck in 'The Road less Travelled' talks about balance and the depression that comes from letting go of the things we love in order to maintain that balance. If we are honest about life, things do change from time to time and we must let go of some things we love to maintain our balance. Or we have to lie to ourselves and avoid change in order to keep that balance. I'm just not sure what has changed so far, and what I need to honestly face.

Maybe it's as simple as giving up my chance to be and interact with my Father, and in him dying I've lost the ability, or option, to be there as a part of his life. That doesn't seem to be it, for me. Perhaps it's just understanding in a very personal way the implications of a life ending and I'm churning on if I've made the right choices that matter to me. That could be it. It's possibly as simple as being nailed with the stark reality of what is important in my life. Not in an angry way, but we only get one shot at a lifetime, and it needs to count.

It is very clear to me that my father fiercely created and lived the life he chose. Which seems so much of a tragedy to me because he chose not to share so much of himself, but locked it up. Finished, forever. Ironically my father would have scoffed at a lot of emotional noise. He'd say 'All I need is my Bible.' Sadly, that misses the point, or perhaps highlights it. I don't want to be detached from people and lock myself away. I don't want to fear and hide, I want to share in community with good people, and be balanced.

I choose to share with people, even though that means accepting the pains of life. I am so grateful for so many people, near and far, that care about me. Unbelievably so, at a time like this. I look forward to a lifetime full of rich sharing with the people that matter to me. That is what matters to me and I embrace that.