Its after ten pm. Tears pouring down my face. I've discovered something the past few months. There are certain days of my past where I've experienced traumatic and heartbreaking things. I have come to realize that during those specific days, I struggle with my emotions and my moods more than other days.
I'm not sure how to explain it. Perhaps if you have experienced it, then you would know.
I take it as hope that I have finally reached a place in my life that God says I'm doing well enough to safely dig through this rotting garbage, and clean it out. The other years never affected me, perhaps because I was buried too deep.
Today it has been one year since I learned my Gramma died. I don't say passed away. Passed away, to me, gives the event a somber, clean, fake feeling. Wrapped up, nice and neat, in a black box. But Death is not fake and Death is not neat. It is very much real and messy, and gives life to an intense, heart-wrenching pain that leaves me gasping for air. It is akin to a panic attack. I've learned that grief is the emotion I feel the most. I am not able to hide grief away into myself and bury it like I'm able to do with other emotions.
I sit in my apartment, surrounded by my gramma's things. Every time I open the cupboard or turn on the lamp or look at the pictures on my walls, I have a million memories flying through my mind. Each one of those memories leads to a spasm of pain. Eventually, this pain will fill me up until it spills out, and then process starts over. One day, I hope to remember my gramma without this pain. I hope to remember her voice, her loving touch, her beautiful smile, and her funny sarcasm.
Oh, Lord, please, I just want one more hug. And I don't want to let go.
We might be in different places, but all of us are on a journey.
Leah's Life Verses