Saturday, December 17, 2011

17th December

It’s not always easy finding the right words to describe how I feel on my journey through bereavement. So today, as always, I feel rather lost and incredibly lonely, though I suppose I must be getting used to my new status in life as the pain is being replaced with a sort of numbness. And I do have the most horrible sensation of Jane’s presence becoming somewhat distant. In common with many long lasting relationships we were truly one in a very special way and our lives were inextricably woven together. Except, of course, they’re not any more as we are separated until it’s my turn to step into eternity. I spent over 37 years honouring my marriage vows and doing everything I could to build my relationship with Jane, to make sure we stayed close. The memory of my wonderful wife will remain as a treasure in my heart forever, but my new life must be without her. So now I have to let her go and build life by myself, and that’s completely at odds with how I feel. But necessary. So becoming distant from Jane is a ‘good’ thing enabling me to move on. But it sure doesn’t feel nice. Urgh! I feel like an alien, I no longer belong; nothing fits my idea of life anymore, it just doesn’t make sense.

I’ve just thought of the word that describes how I feel today: flotsam. A quick dictionary check defines it as ‘wreckage or cargo that remains afloat after a ship has sunk’. That about sums me up. My wonderful marriage has now sunk without trace and all that’s left is a wreck of a man… except it’s not all that’s left, even though it seems to be so. I have three daughters very happily married and four grandchildren. I have an adult son to keep me company at home. They all share my grief, I’m not alone. Christmas cards keep arriving and many have sensitively written words expressing awareness for my situation. Jane was well liked and touched many people with her loving care and she truly changed her little bit of the world with goodness. I was part of it for 40 years so there must be some good in me.

And I always live with hope. Today I may be incredibly sad and my vision surely clouded with grief, but my confidence in God is quite unshakeable. I complain too much I know, but though the brokenness of my life is complete I know that it is temporary. When the tears have been shed in full measure I will reclaim joy once again, after all what sort of love leaves an inheritance of misery? Jane was a gift from God and it was my privilege to have shared her life for so long. For reason beyond my understanding he chose to call her home early. I will never complain about the reward of a new life in heaven that she now enjoys. Instead I simply say… Thankyou Lord! Thankyou for the life I enjoyed with Jane, thankyou for the life Jane now enjoys with you and thankyou for the life I still have set before me. Forgive me for having such a negative view of my life. Help me to change and honour you.

Romans 12:2 ‘Don’t copy the behaviour and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.’ (NLT)

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