Widows & Widowers Support Group
This community is dedicated to those who have lost a husband, wife, or partner. Anything is open for discussion here, with the hope that we can focus on grief, bereavement, life after loss, and continuing on after a great loss.
I have heard this questions so many times, and always wanted to say the same thing. It will stop when we want it to. It is a unique decision to each of us, and should be. I am a bit rebellious anyway, but, I know that I'll reach that point somewhere along the way.
I have come to a point with my journey where my concerns, guilt, loneliness, whatever, is okay. I am comfortable in my own skin. It is time to let go. I will continue to mourn, but in my heart. I am ready to embrace the future I have, and enjoy my new journey. It still new really. Ten years from now I will say the same thing.
After going through all that I have, I have passed that exit at the end of the tunnel, and I am facing a bright day with whatever future I want to build for myself. It is time.
I have been where many of you are now. I have waded through depths of despair I never thought I could survive. I can't do it anymore, and I don't have to. It was like a person drowning in the water feels until he suddenly realizes he can touch bottom and walk to shore. This is interesting, because I suddenly realize as I am writing, that I used a very similar scenario when I was first a widow. To me it was diving off the deep in and going so far down I could hardly see the surface. I wondered how I would get there, and didn't want to because I was afraid I would forget him. I have at last found the surface. And, it is okay. I do remember, and even if some memories grow foggy with time, my heart remembers.
So, I am saying good-bye. I will think of you often. Indeed, I have peeked in often over the months without signing in. Have a blessed year, and stay strong. God bless.
I have come to a point with my journey where my concerns, guilt, loneliness, whatever, is okay. I am comfortable in my own skin. It is time to let go. I will continue to mourn, but in my heart. I am ready to embrace the future I have, and enjoy my new journey. It still new really. Ten years from now I will say the same thing.
After going through all that I have, I have passed that exit at the end of the tunnel, and I am facing a bright day with whatever future I want to build for myself. It is time.
I have been where many of you are now. I have waded through depths of despair I never thought I could survive. I can't do it anymore, and I don't have to. It was like a person drowning in the water feels until he suddenly realizes he can touch bottom and walk to shore. This is interesting, because I suddenly realize as I am writing, that I used a very similar scenario when I was first a widow. To me it was diving off the deep in and going so far down I could hardly see the surface. I wondered how I would get there, and didn't want to because I was afraid I would forget him. I have at last found the surface. And, it is okay. I do remember, and even if some memories grow foggy with time, my heart remembers.
So, I am saying good-bye. I will think of you often. Indeed, I have peeked in often over the months without signing in. Have a blessed year, and stay strong. God bless.
Hugs,
Linda
My point? Christians must learn to discipline their minds, and the same techniques might prove effective against grief. When I'm tempted, it's a conscious process to nip that temptation in the bud. I cut it off at the roots so it can't grow. Eventually, even the temptation itself loses much of its power.
So I think there are healthy and unhealthy ways to deal with grief, and I don't know why we can't nip unhealthy thoughts in the bud. It's not a perfect process of course, but it's working for me. When I feel the dark waves coming (I'm sure you all know what I mean), I make a conscious choice to not wallow in it.
I know for a fact that what you said was true. The same thing was told to my mentor when he was young by his grief counselor when he lost his father. Not as explicitly, but the message that my mentor concluded was exactly the same.
I am gradually feeling to be able to withstand the pain of grief. It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt when it strikes, but I am not scared by it anymore.
Farewell, my friend. Live bravely and beautifully. I will fondly remember your avatar as the footsteps in the sand poem. It goes like this:
Footprints in the Sand
One night I dreamed a dream.
As I was walking along the beach with my Lord.
Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life.
For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand,
One belonging to me and one to my Lord.
After the last scene of my life flashed before me,
I looked back at the footprints in the sand.
I noticed that at many times along the path of my life,
especially at the very lowest and saddest times,
there was only one set of footprints.
This really troubled me, so I asked the Lord about it.
"Lord, you said once I decided to follow you,
You'd walk with me all the way.
But I noticed that during the saddest and most troublesome times of my life,
there was only one set of footprints.
I don't understand why, when I needed You the most, You would leave me."
He whispered, "My precious child, I love you and will never leave you
Never, ever, during your trials and testings.
When you saw only one set of footprints,
It was then that I carried you."