Silence is my soul food.

John, Adam and I went on retreat this weekend with several lovelies from our church.  It is a college worship conference called "Gulf Coast Getaway".  So on Friday, we traveled down south to Panama City Beach, Florida.  It was yummy from the first moment away. 

I slept most of the way, while Adam listened to music, slept and poor John drove.  But he even admitted that he loved the quiet meditative environment of driving in silence. 

We met up with our church peeps when we got there.  It was windy, cold and amazing!  The topic was the Holy Spirit!  Loved it.  We had many wonderful speakers that challenged our thinking.  The worship time was brilliant.  We lifted up voices and hearts in beautiful songs, surrounded by beautiful people lifting up their praises to God.  Several times, I just stopped singing and listened to all the voices around me.  At one point, I noticed Adam worshiping and it melted my heart to see my child worshiping his God without shame!  

Many of the things I've been learning in my oblate journey were confirmed at this conference.  It just goes to show that when you are on the right path, God will flash up signs to keep you going.  Thank you Jesus. And of course, when we are on the wrong path, I also believe He also flashes up signs to steer us in another direction. 

I'm at a point in my own journey, where silence and listening are so deeply needed in my soul.  Silence seems to be my soul food.  I received time for that this weekend.  I believe our world needs, thirsts and hungers for the peace, comfort and joy that come from quiet rest in Jesus. 

Thank you sweet, beloved God for allowing me to receive so many blessings this weekend. 

Not yet....

My last post was in July.  That seems like years ago. I didn't realize it had been that long until this morning.  Every time I decided it was time to write something, a little voice said "Not yet."

Because I've become quite fond of listening to that little voice, I said "OK, I'll wait."  And so I've waited, waited and waited.  God is faithful to provide the guidance we need, if we are willing to listen.  At this point in my life, I'm more than willing to listen.  I'm starved for whatever He has to say.

This morning I thought about writing a post and I just received a spirit of peace around me.  I guess that's my "Go ahead" sign.  So here I am, almost 6 months later.  Hi y'all!

It's been a rough, long 6 months.  Grief is not for sissies.  Some days it has felt like the air was literally being sucked out of my lungs.  It is physically, emotionally and spiritually bruising. But a wise, grief experienced friend encouraged me to walk through the grief and not try to avoid it.  I'm so glad I have listened to her.  I allowed my body, mind and spirit to feel the depth of the pain.  I owned it and made it mine.  As a result, I've been able to "little by little" let it go. And in doing so, the rawness is healing. It's still there, but I've learned where to put the pain and release the ugliness of it. 

I've spent a lot of time in the past few months trying to avoid thinking about what is best for others in this process and realize that before I can help someone else, I have to help me.  That seems selfish and contradictory to what I've always tried to do.  But, consider what they tell you when you are on an airplane.  When the oxygen masks are deployed from the ceiling, you are instructed to put yours on first.  THEN, you can help others with theirs.  It's a gut wrenching lesson.  If I'm not well, I can't help others feel well.  As a woman and a mother, my natural instinct is to be watchful of others.  This time I've had to be watchful of me.

In my journey to focus on my own heart's healing, lots of things have taken place.  I've spent more time in prayer and reading the word.  I find myself much more quiet on the inside and outside. I watch less and less television.  I read more.  Things that normally would have been a major focus of life, haven't been.

For instance, football.  My team didn't do well this season.  That normally would have really gotten stuck in my teeth.  This year, I found I went to sleep during a large majority of the games.  I didn't feel defeated personally when my team lost.  I just felt like my team lost. No big deal.

We had a very upsetting experience within our family and instead of it making me blow up.  I was able to rationally, calmly consider the situation and then move forward without losing my mind.  For those who know me, that is HUGE.

I didn't decorate a Christmas tree this year.  Didn't even put one up.  That is also HUGE.  I've had up to 12 trees in my house for Christmas.  I have been blessed with an enormous ornament collection. This year, along with the fact that my heart was grieving over the 1st Christmas without my friend, I also haven't felt well.  I did eventually  put up a few decorations to give us a wee bit of Christmas about the house, but I mostly focused on the ADVENT season.  Next year I foresee putting all the decorations out again, but for this year, God intended for me to focus just on Him for a season.

I've spent more time at my monastery.  In fact in October, I became an oblate of Sacred Heart Monastery.  I have learned most people don't know what that is.  And some are even a wee bit afraid of it.  So, here is my attempt at a  Reader's Digest type Explanation.

An oblate is someone who feels a strong calling for prayer.  It's not just something they know they should do.  Instead it is something they are driven to do.  An oblate feels a strong connection to a particular monastery.  For me, that monastery is Sacred Heart.  I have felt a commitment to prayer that supersedes anything I've felt before.  It's kind of like the different levels of a relationship.  When you decide to date just one person, you feel a commitment.  But if that commitment deepens, you become engaged.  If it moves even deeper, you become married.  For me, being an oblate feels like the jump between being engaged and being married.  I'm far more committed to the scriptures and listening to God than I've ever been in my life. I have much to learn and I'm an eager student.

The sisters at Sacred Heart bring me such joy.  I love walking in the door and having them call me by name.  It feels like coming home. I love the thought that each and every day I pray for them and they are praying for me.  I love that we are all praying at the same time.  I love that we are all reading the Psalms and other scriptures on the same schedule.  I absolutely adore the sights, smells and environment of peace that the monastery brings me.

I find that I absolutely get hungry for being there.   And if something stands in my way and it takes me longer to be able to go there, then my spiritual self begins to starve for it.  I know that sounds extreme, but it's so true for me.  I have tasted and seen the Lord is good in a beautiful, refreshing way and I want more!

I feel quite certain that God brought me down this path to prepare me for my grief journey.  No death has ever affected me like Angie's.  I've never lost someone that I've spent so much time with on a moment by moment basis.  Our lives were entangled like a creeping vine.  We were wrapped up in each others lives on many levels and in many places.  So, the loss is deep and wide.  I think of going to Target, so I think of her.  I think of going to a ballgame, so I think of her.  I think of going to the doctor, so I think of her.  I see objects she personally bought for me, so I think of her.  I sing, so I think of her.  I go to the monastery, so I think of her.  I go to the grocery store, so I think of her.  I purchase really comfy shoes, so I think of her.  I find an outfit or recipe that I like, so I think of sharing it with her.  I go to a movie, so I think of asking her to go.  I go to a great restaurant, so I want to invite her.  I desire a girl's day out, so I want to call her.  I see two friends laughing together, so I think of her.  It's not like I'm reminded of her sometimes....I'm reminded of her 100s of times a day.

God knew my loss would be great.  He is greater. 

Had it not been the Lord who was on my side,  the anger of the enemy would have surely taken me.  Please listen to this song.  It is me and where I am.


 I have much joy to share and write.  I hope it will benefit someone.  God is good. 

I didn't cry...

Today a series of lovely things happened.  As I was leaving work, the first person I wanted to call and talk to was Angie.  She was my "person".  The one I called and told all the mundane things that made up life.  I told her the happy and the sad, the extraordinary and the common.  Today I had so much to tell her.  I want to tell her how much Adam is enjoying the mission trip.  I want to tell her that today my body felt good after several days of feeling rotten.  I want to tell her that I'm about to spend some quality AND quantity time with my Bochnak kiddos. My heart still wants to go on sharing things with her. 

But she is not here.  

The thing is... it's been 5 months, 20 days and almost 13 hours since she went rest with Jesus. I have felt each and every second of each and every lonely day since she left. The Angie size hole in my life and heart will never be filled. 

But today, when I realized AGAIN that I couldn't talk to her...I didn't cry.  I think that is progress.  

I've done quite a bit of reading on grief and have been blessed with several people who have given me some very helpful books on grief.  I've been very open with all my doctors (I have a bunch due to having Dyautonomia).  The funny thing is that the people who know about this ugly grief stuff all tell me that everything I have felt and am feeling is very normal.  But some people have wished to rush me through this grief cycle.  I'm not sure if it's because they are uncomfortable with me being sad, or if they are just judgement, mean or what.  But I do know that trying to PUSH someone through grief is not helpful or healthy.  It's much better to gently walk with someone through grief and just be there if needed. 

I like the picture on this post because it shows that grief is a series of ups, downs and loops.  It's not a step by step process.  It's a journey. It's a journey I'm on.  It's a journey many people I love are on but each much take their own path to healing.  That's hard to realize and accept.  

Right now I'm going to celebrate the fact that I didn't cry.  I might cry later today, but for now I'm not.  

I still miss my friend and always will.  That doesn't make me crazy, slow in the process or whatever....It just makes ME without HER.  

I'm getting better. 

"A Life Well Lived Is A Sacred Echo"

The blue angel came and visited with me again in my dreams.  While at the beach with my family a few weeks ago, I slept hard.  I mean really, really hard.  Like, not move a muscle all night, blanket marks on my face every single morning hard.  On the 3rd night of our trip, I had a dream.  I heard the blue angel speaking to me in the dream and I remember saying "What?" to her.  

When we woke the next morning, I rolled over and said to John, "Remember this for me "A life well lived is a sacred echo."  You know how you dream something and after just a few minutes of being awake you forget it?  I've learned that I need to tell John important dreams so he can help me remember.  After I shared this sentence with him, he said "Wow.  That is deep on many, many levels."  And  he was right.

Since that dream, I've rolled this sentence around and around and around in my head.  We even googled it to make sure I hadn't read it somewhere before.  Nadda.  Nothing. Didn't come up with anything on my google search. I've heard the words "sacred echo" before, but never in this context. 

I shared it with Adam and Bekah and their response was the same as John's.  "Wow.  That is deep."  So we've all been rolling it around, trying to figure it out.  

We were in North Carolina, where Mr. Smith grew up.  29 of our family was there.  Mr. Smith passed away 3 years ago.  So in a sense, our trip was an echo of his "life well lived".  We were there doing the things he taught us to love, visiting the people he loved, eating the foods he loved, breathing the same salty North Carolina coastal air he loved and passing this love onto the next generation of Smiths.  His well lived life was a lovely sacred echo all around us.  

I thought of Angie.  I get very frustrated because my memories of her still hurt my heart. I miss her so much that it makes my heart break every time I am reminded of her....which is about a hundred times a day.  The memories remind me that she is not here, even though I still can't believe it.  Our lives were so wrapped around each other that she is everywhere and in every thing.  Her life, her well lived life, continues to echo all throughout my day.  

I think of Jesus.  After, 2,000 His life's echo is still changing lives.  If ever there was a "life well lived" it was His.  I think of my grandparents, who's lives still echo throughout my life and even in how I look and the way I react to things. 

I think of my distant ancestry.  People I never met, yet their lives are connected to me and echoed in my expressions, my hair color, my love for Ireland and Scotland, my faith.....echo, echo, echo.  

I'm not at all sure what God intends for me to do with this wee, yet powerful sentence.  But I do know He intends for me to do something with it.  I'm waiting on His lead.

So here's a challenge.  What is your life echoing?  Is your life "a life well lived?"  Will your life leave a "sacred echo" or just a dull thump?  

Wow.  That's deep huh?  

Random Off the Wall Facts About Me

1.  One of my first memories as a child is being lost outside of some condos in Panama City Beach, Florida.  As you can see they eventually found me, or perhaps I found them.  I think perhaps they were TRYING to lose me, but I was smarter than them.  (Yes, I'm speaking to you David, Wanda, Martha, Richard and Jenny)

2.  When I was a kid the thing I missed most about our house in Decatur was the carport. We used to pour water on it with dish washing detergent and have the red neck version of a slip and slide. The tricky part was that we lived very close to the street.  So you had to be careful when sliding or the game could be over quickly and we'd all be going to that pesky hospital.

4. The best part of moving to Athens was moving next door my aunt, uncle and their 4 kids.  It was an only child palooza!  

5.  Best sound I ever heard was John David belly laugh for the first time.  

6.  When I was growing up I was a religious snob.  Not proud of it, but true fact none the less.

7.  When I became an adult I shifted into political snobbery.  I still hold the same actual political beliefs, but I don't feel snobbish about it.  Here's a weird thought....You can have opinions without beating people over the head with them.  I know!  Amazing stuff huh?  Only took 46 or so years and being ashamed of who I was becoming to figure it out.  I never said I was a quick learner. 

8.  Best trip of my life?  Ireland.  Why?  I had always wanted to go and my 3 favorite lads were with me...without cells phones!  It was awesome!

9.  Worst day of my life?  When I let it sink in that she really wasn't coming back.  That death really means gone.  Forever.  

10.  Strangest turn of events?  Realizing I have a calling to spend time with Catholic nuns.  Huh?  W-WHAT?  God, you know I'm "Church of Christ" girl right? 

11.  Weirdest spiritual change...lately?  Realizing wordy isn't for me anymore where prayer is concerned.  I used to could pray for hours and me do ALL the talking.  (Who in the crap did I think I was?)  Now, after a hefty dose of spiritual humble pie and a few spiritual kicks in the boooo-tay, bevity of words is much better suited to my life.  I now choose to be quiet and listen most of the time where my heavenly Father is concerned.  He is a much better talker than me. (Although I do wish He would speak a little LOUDER.  But who am I to tell Him anything about volume?) I can still pray for hours, but now use my time listening to Him instead!  Fancy that. 

12.  If given the chance, I believe I could live alone and never speak a word out loud as long as I have a keyboard to tap on :) 

13.  Biggest shock of my life?  When they let us leave the hospital with John David in the car seat WITH NO SUPERVISION.  Seriously, they let us, two green as grass nincompoops, come home with that wee boy all by ourselves.  On a brighter note, he survived.  

15.  Thing I miss eating the most?  Seafood.  (Developed a late in life food allergy after also developing Dysautonomia)  I remember vividly what a crab burger from the Provision Co. tastes like.  Sigh...

16.  Completely weird fact most people don't know about me, but will now...I love watching those ghost hunter type shows.  Not because I believe in what they are "so called" seeing, but because they are hilarious!  They don't scare me in the least, but they make me laugh out loud, sometimes really loud.  I'm rattin' Adam out too.  He likes to watch them with me.  We have literally laughed until we cried watching those shows.  

17.  Since we are talking about the supernatural now (I use the term "we" loosely), yes I believe in the supernatural.  I believe in God and He is like, totally, really supernatural, duh.  I believe angels are all around us.  Especially a pretty blue one that comes to visit my dreams now and again.  

18.  My current thoughts on death.  No, I don't like it.  Yes, I know something better awaits, but I still don't like being left behind.  No, I don't believe people become angels.  No, I don't think people are in heaven right now.  Scripture doesn't back that up and I believe scripture.  I do believe that the dead are resting and will awake on that glorious day and it will seem as if no time has passed.  And then....there's gonna be a PARTY!  (insert me dancing around the office as I think of this) 

19.  Best moment of life in the last week?  Adam speaking at church last night and being reminded of the man of God he is becoming.  My heart just nearly squeezes right into pieces.  

20.  Biggest regret so far in life.  Not many really.  But I do regret that I haven't pursued writing more heavily.  YOU may however think I made a good choice after reading these 20 random facts.  

Why I love North Carolina....

This Alabama girl had never been to North Carolina until I was 19 years old.  I had never had a reason to go.  I'd been many other places.  As a little girl my parents took me to Florida, Georgia, Tennessee, Mississippi, Virginia and Canada.  But never North Carolina.  

I went there the first time with John's family before we got married.  His dad grew up on the southern coast of North Carolina, Brunswick Co. to be exact.  That is right where the Cape Fear River meets the Atlantic Ocean.  It's different from most beaches I had ever visited.  It's very low key, with no big hotels and fancy resorts.  Just lots and lots of homes on the beach and inland waterways.  No chain restaurants either.  Just lovely hometown dives with the best seafood I had ever eaten.  (This was before I became allergic to seafood)

North Carolina wasn't a vacation spot to Mr. Smith.  It was home.  I met lots of his family there, siblings, nieces, nephews, extended family....LOADS of extended family. Big family cookouts with loads and loads of food.  I remember the first big cookout I attended was a little place called Varnum Town.  Makes me smile to think of it. 

Mr. Smith had the sea in his blood and so he loved to fish, clam and whatever else he could do that involved the ocean.  He blossomed into a different person when he was home.  His coastal NC accent got thicker.  He relaxed.  He laughed more there.  He loved showing why he loved the coast of NC.  

He taught me to use a clam rake.  I love going clamming.  Mostly because he taught me how to do that.  You scrape that strange little rake across the wet mucky sand until you hear a very distinct "scrrratttchhhh".  Jack Pot!  You've got yourself a clam! But watch out, the mucky sand will suck the shoes right off your feet, if you aren't careful. 

My boys adore going there.  The picture at the top is of them on the pier at the Smiths summer place on Sunset Harbor on the inland waterway just off the Atlantic waterfront.  Adam was 2 and John David 6.  I love that picture. Adam standing there with his little diaper on and John David's little feet dangling off the chair.  Both with their fishing rods ready for a morning catch.  Adam still had on his pajama top.  John David would honestly sit out there and fish for hours and hours.  And he is pretty darned good at it.  Adam just liked to walk around with the pole, which is why he never had a hook on his line. 

When we lived in Charlotte when they were little, we would take advantage of the short 3 hour drive to the beach to see Grandmother and Granddaddy when they were there.  This picture was taken during one of our weekend runs to the beach.  Precious memories.

One day while we were there when the boys were little, Adam actually jumped off the pier and got caught in the crab pot line.  Thankfully his super hero Daddy was there to save the day.  Thankfully his mother wasn't there to see the event or I would have died from a heart attack.  

We were blessed to call North Carolina home for a brief time in the late 90s.  We lived in Charlotte, North Carolina and that made my love for the great state even more dear.  

Then later as a result of ancestry digging, I discovered my family has strong ties to North Carolina as well.  Just a few hours away from where Mr. Smiths family is from, my family was quite prominent in Chatham Co.  before traveling south to Alabama. Strange but true. Who knew?!  

We will be going to Oak Island soon just minutes from Southport, North Carolina, Brunswick Co. where Mr. Smith went to Elementary School.  If you've read Nicholas Spark's book "Safe Haven", you'll recognize the name Southport.  It's the setting in the book.  The movie about that book came out on DVD just a few weeks ago was filmed there.  Watching it is a blessing because we see so many familiar and heart warming sights. 

It will be our first big family visit there without Mr. Smith.  Almost all of us are going. We did travel there 2 years ago when Mr. Smith's older sister, Aunt Cleo, passed away. Our visit there will be sad in ways.  He only has one living sibling left and she is in poor health.  Her name is Juliet.  Please pray for her.  

North Carolina is not just a vacation, it's going home for many reasons.  I can't wait to get there.  

 

 

Grief....so far....

I haven't written on the blog in a very long time.  Why?  Well...truth is I'm not sure anyone wants to really hear what's going on in my head lately.  My thoughts are all over the place.  I'm up, I'm down, I'm real down, I'm ok, I'm terrified, I'm really, really down, I'm up.....bumpy huh?  I feel weird about myself most of the time lately. Life in the midst of gut wrenching grief is ugly. 

Things that used to matter to me, no longer even seem interesting.

For instance, football.  I have no desire to watch, talk about, listen to or contemplate the next football season.  Adam is not playing so for the first season in 12 years, I will not be a football mom.  That makes me sad in ways, but not in others.  It's just weird.  Just thinking about Bama football used to get me all charged up.  Now, I feel nothing.  Literally nothing. It's like my perspective has changed.  Football is sport that one should enjoy, but not devour.  I have been hung up on a lot of things in life that I now just want to let go of. Grief has taught me that.  I should devour the things of God and simply experience the things he has put on this earth for us to enjoy. 

Jewelry has always been a special thing for me.  I have loved earrings and necklaces.  Now, not so much.  I bought my mother one of those lovely "Origami Owl" necklace and considered buying one for myself and then thought "Why"?  What's the point?  When they lay me in that casket, none of that will go with me.  Oh they may decide to leave a necklace or bracelet on my body, but so what?  I gave Angie a necklace for Christmas that she was buried in.  When asked if I wanted it back, they could remove it before her burial, I said, "No".  I gave it to HER.  I picked it out for HER.  Now she is gone. It's almost like even special jewelry means nothing.  It's just a piece of metal with some beads.  It's just stuff.  Stuff that does not matter.  And one day, people will be deciding who gets what of my stuff.  So strange.  STUFF.  STUFF. STUFF.  What joy does it bring?  A brief moment of happiness when received, but it has no eternal value.  It's just stuff.  

The joy I have received in the past almost 18 weeks since her death is from God and people.  Not stuff.  I have gone to the monastery twice since her death and it was so altering.  I felt like a dehydrated, sun scorched person in the desert crawling up to a cool fountain to drink deeply and soothe my withered body.  What joy I found in the midst of God's most dedicated women with His presence so close I could almost touch him.  Right there in the  quiet midst of deep contemplative prayer is where joy lives.  My heart opened and my heart's wounds were cared for in the overwhelming presence of my Father.  

I've always wanted to minister to others.  I want to serve.  I want to be Jesus hands and feet.  Point me in a direction, give me a task.  Let me do something....I JUST WANT TO SERVE. But in grief, I've had to let go and let someone actually minister to me.  Soak up the gifts of others and let them hold me up when I couldn't hold myself up.  Relax in Him and let His people bring me joy and healing.  

God has been leading me to this point in life with a very specific task in mind for me.  He wants ME.  He wants me to give myself completely over to HIM.  It's just that simple.  He doesn't care about all the stuff, the possessions and distractions of life. He wants me to give up everything and be with Him in the still, quiet places of my heart.  He wants me to go to the closet of my soul and just be with Him so He can put a balm of healing on my broken heart.  And I want to be with Him.  That is comfort.  That is joy. 

On Sunday, May 19th, our entire family, both sides, was invited to our house for lunch and a celebration of  Adam's graduation.  About 50 or so were invited. I worked really hard to clean, prepare food and get everything just so.  John was out of town for almost a month, so I did a lot of it by myself. I wanted it to be special for my wee boy, but I was exhausted when the day arrived.  I briefly thought, I'll never be able to make it physically through this day. But when my house filled with all those beautiful people.....I felt joy.  It oozed into my heart when I heard the laughter of my family as they relaxed and enjoyed each other.  Most people stayed all day long  so they could participate in our church's Graduation service that night.  It was a long, long day of pure joy.  Little kids running through the house, dropping food everywhere on my once clean floors.  Big kids and little kids playing baseball in the backyard.  Loved ones rocking on the back patio, talking about the "good ol' days" and telling stories. People napping on the couch and laying in the floor of the living room, while others were going back for seconds and thirds of the food.  My beloved Jane and Aunt Rosene helping me clean the kitchen and we laughed until our sides hurt.  Having Meredith ease up to me, wrapping her little arms around my legs and saying "I love you Kelley"...Dear God what LOVE and ultimate Joy.  I felt love and joy even as my heart grieved for the fact that my friend wasn't with me to celebrate our children's lovely accomplishments. 

I'm learning that it's not time that heals the wound of grief.  It's quietness, love and joy, a little bit at a time, that begin to heal a deeply shattered heart.  It's all about HIM and letting Him in. 

The saddest and most uncomfortable thing I'm realizing in this journey is that people watch you as you grieve and judge.  Isn't that strange?  Some people think you should just whiz through the grief process and move on.  Maybe some can.  I applaud their quickness, but I don't seem to be one of those people.  Just like most things in my life, I have to roll it around and think deeply about it.  I have to mull "what ifs" and "how comes".  Not because I question God, but because I question me.  I want to learn from this horrible trial whatever it is that God wants me to learn.  To whiz through the process acting like everything is A-O.K. would simply be a lie.  Someone I don't know very well, actually told me to move on, stop crying and get on with life.  What?  

As God always does, He even provided me a friend who could help me through this.  One of my dearest friends has suffered more loss and grief than one person should have to endure.  She turned that suffering into ministering.  She works with a grief group and ministers to others in their pain.  She's been a constant friend and has texted me through some pretty rough spots.  The most important thing she has given me is confidence that I'm not losing my mind, I'm just grieving.  I praise God for my beloved Rhonda.

Here are the facts.  My closest earthly friend is gone. Just like that....snap...gone.  Never to return.  She died from a hateful disease.  She fought hard and lost the earthly battle, but won everlasting life from her Savior.  While her victory brings me indescribable joy, the earthly loss has shattered me. There is a big Angie sized hole in my life that no one else will ever fill.  I loved her for 35 years.  We experienced more together than anyone else I can name.  We didn't live together, but we LIVED together.  Our friendship was a rare and special treasure to be cherished forever and ever.  Someone said the other day, "You know, Angie wasn't really close to many people, but she was so close to you."  And she was.  We had a connection.  We synced with each other's weirdness.  As Paula said, "Angie understood Kelley and Kelley understood Angie."  "WE" were rare.  And now she is gone and there is no more "we" just me.  And I have to learn to live with that.

I often wonder, if the story had gone the opposite direction and it was me that slipped away and her left behind, how would she react. The truth is it doesn't even matter.  Each grief journey is different. There is no one who really understands my grief, just like I don't understand someone else's grief.  The grief process is unique for each individual. 

Sister Mary at the monastery said "The amount of grief equals the amount of love."  Oh how I loved my friend and miss her every second of every day.  It hurts in places in my soul that I didn't know I have.  And the weird thing is, it's taking all my cells a long time to get the message that she is gone. I still hear her, I still see her, I still feel her.Parts of me don't get it yet.  She's gone.

During the whole graduation process, I kept asking myself "What would Angie want me to do?"  How can I help?  Do I need to help?  Do I need to back off?  And then it hit. ANGIE HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME WITH THIS!  Yep, I hit the anger stage right in the middle of sorting pictures for the slideshows for church and school.  Only the dogs know how loud I got in my anger.  No one was hit, but lots of things got thrown in my office that day.  I stayed, well there is no other way to say it, really pissed off for several days. Maybe even a couple of weeks. But even still, I kept it all together for graduation.  Few tears in public.  Lots of tears in private.   

I went back to work at the United almost 3 months ago.  Angie had been gone for 5 weeks went I got there.  I know I must have been a sight when I walked in that office again.  Grief stricken, lonesome and hollow.  But in the work, I found life again.  I found a place to serve my community and feel like I could contribute something good.  I like the days that I work.  Service is a great way to move through this part of my grief process.  My job has been a true gift from God.  It's likely the biggest part of me not having a nervous breakdown.  It gave me a positive thing to focus on that had nothing to do with Angie.  I actually screamed out loud at her the day I was having the "I'm really angry at you for leaving  me" episode "Would you just leave me alone!  Quit showing up everywhere I look.  Stop leaving a paper trail of notes and lists and cards. Just leave me alone!" Well, if she heard me, she didn't listen.  The paper trail kept showing up.  

I shared my journey via this blog and facebook about having a friend with cancer.  It helps me to write things out.  So here you have it. This is my grief process.  Agree with it or not, it's mine so don't judge.  I will get through this, just as the rest of her family will.  But each of us will walk this path differently.  We will experience life without her in a unique personal way.  

And that's ok.