Well, I went from Thursday morning, until Wednesday night, during worship, without crying. That's a long time. In 11 weeks...that felt weird. That did not feel normal.
But strangely, I did feel normal. Somewhat.
And then I felt guilty for feeling normal.
And then I wondered IF I was normal.
I did some self-checking; am I in denial? Nope....Andrea is definitely gone.
An I pretending? Well, I contemplated Grandma Bugna's tactic when her son died 22 years ago. I toyed with the idea of pretending Andrea was teaching music in a third world country- like she pretended Uncle Gordy was on vacation during most family gatherings. I contemplated that, but didn't go there.
So, while feeling guilty, strange, and somewhat normal...I continue to try and process.
That's the thing. Is it too early to feel normal? Can I actually adjust in just 11 weeks?
Probably not. And I know, it will change again...many times over.
24 hours later, suddenly, the overwhelming sadness hits again. That familiar deep grief...the familiar questions, the familiar frustration, disappointment, and bewilderment.
And I no longer feel normal.
The same questions; God, why? With one word, you could have changed this....with just one word...You have the power...yet...You did not.
But then, there's that concept I believe so completely; Free Will.
We are not puppets. God allows, doesn't control. We live in a fallen world. The darkness deceives. All I know is...God is God.
And He weeps with me. He holds me, just as Rob holds me while I weep at night.
Rob and I, silently, weep together and somehow, there is comfort.
We don't have to ask what is wrong. We don't have to ask, what can I do. We just know.
I desperately pray for God's physical touch, and then, my husband cradles my head against his chest, and I see the gift I've been given.
In this, I glimpse the depth of my God...
God not only holds me; He holds Andrea, Rob, David, Michael, Cassie, Kaylee, Sailor- all of us.
"It is said of God that no one can behold his face and live, I always thought this meant that no one could see his splendor and live. A friend said perhaps it means that no one could see his sorrow and live. Or perhaps his sorrow is his splendor." - Nicholas Wolterstorff