I hate Tuesdays…
Why Tuesdays? It will always be a reminder of the day that we lost Daniel (only 2 weeks today). He would have been 18 months old today – still, as Kevin says he will be permanently cute.
I knew I was going to struggle with getting through today and was feeling quite smug that I had almost succeeded. That was, until the doorbell rang and the Christian Aid collector called by this evening. I filled in the form and asked what the date was (as if I didn’t know…) when I was reminded that it was the 17th I began to cry (Daniel was born on the 17th November). I then explained what was making me cry because I did feel that I needed to offer some explanation for my bizarre behaviour. Wouldn’t it be great if grief was just a tap that you could switch on and off when you felt like it instead of a damn bursting. If anyone wants a good water feature I can be hired out…
I was talking to a friend earlier and just described a feeling that I have when I am feeling at my lowest. I feel that God says to me, “lean into me, Sarah”. Daniel took after me in the sense that he could make cuddling an olympic sport and I often feel the ache of my empty arms. When I hear God telling me to lean into him, I have a picture of my nestling into Him, where He holds me and I feel loved, secure and warm. Doesn’t the world always seem better after a cuddle?
I was given this poem which helps me throughout the loss of Daniel and this says it better than I could ever say:
“You can shed tears that he is gone,
or you can smile because he has lived
You can close your eyes and pray that
he’ll come back, or you can open your
eyes and see all he has left
Your heart can be empty because you
can’t see him, or you can be full of the
love you shared
You can remember him and only that
he’s gone, or you can cherish his
memory and let it live on
You can cry and close your mind, be
empty and turn your back, or you can
do what he’d want:
Smile, open your eyes, love and go on
No matter what he had to deal with in life, Daniel used to smile, love and carry on until he couldn’t any more.
I knew I was going to struggle with getting through today and was feeling quite smug that I had almost succeeded. That was, until the doorbell rang and the Christian Aid collector called by this evening. I filled in the form and asked what the date was (as if I didn’t know…) when I was reminded that it was the 17th I began to cry (Daniel was born on the 17th November). I then explained what was making me cry because I did feel that I needed to offer some explanation for my bizarre behaviour. Wouldn’t it be great if grief was just a tap that you could switch on and off when you felt like it instead of a damn bursting. If anyone wants a good water feature I can be hired out…
I was talking to a friend earlier and just described a feeling that I have when I am feeling at my lowest. I feel that God says to me, “lean into me, Sarah”. Daniel took after me in the sense that he could make cuddling an olympic sport and I often feel the ache of my empty arms. When I hear God telling me to lean into him, I have a picture of my nestling into Him, where He holds me and I feel loved, secure and warm. Doesn’t the world always seem better after a cuddle?
I was given this poem which helps me throughout the loss of Daniel and this says it better than I could ever say:
“You can shed tears that he is gone,
or you can smile because he has lived
You can close your eyes and pray that
he’ll come back, or you can open your
eyes and see all he has left
Your heart can be empty because you
can’t see him, or you can be full of the
love you shared
You can remember him and only that
he’s gone, or you can cherish his
memory and let it live on
You can cry and close your mind, be
empty and turn your back, or you can
do what he’d want:
Smile, open your eyes, love and go on
No matter what he had to deal with in life, Daniel used to smile, love and carry on until he couldn’t any more.
posted by SarahB @ 10:45 PM
3 Comments:
I praise the Lord for answers to prayer in sustaining you both. Nicole
God is so trustable
So safe to rest in
Thanks for sharing
:)
Blessings
shasa
Thanks Sarah for sharing. That poem is amazing.
God bless
Lisa
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