I keep meaning to blog, but I cannot believe how tired I am! I’m just exhausted! I don’t remember ever feeling quite like this before, which would make sense, since I’ve never gone through a grieving process like this before. I heave lots of deep sighs throughout the day, and I really have to pull myself together to accomplish anything. Needless to say, the house is showing the effects. [Emily heaves another deep sigh.]
Next week, the four of us leave for Wisconsin. I’m hopeful that our time there will be helpful for me in the grieving process, and that when we come home, I’ll feel more like myself. At least, I hope I’m not quite so tired when I get home. But, fun as these trips are, I have always come home from them more tired than when I left, so I’m not holding my breath too hard for this trip to be any different.
Lyd and I had a wonderful conversation about heaven at supper Wednesday night, the day that Grandma’s funeral was held. JJ was not at supper; he was off writing a sermon at an Undisclosed Location. So, Lyd and I made conversation ourselves, and we talked about the people that Grandma was seeing in heaven, people that she had loved in her life and who had gone to heaven before her. It was nice to create that mental image in my head of Grandma reunited with her loved ones (such as her parents, her grandparents, her siblings, her husband), and I think it made a slightly clearer picture of heaven for Lyd as well. It was such a lovely, heartwarming conversation that I meant to turn it into its own blog post, but this will have to do.
I have the book 90 Minutes in Heaven out of the library, and I’ve been frequently reading the two chapters about the author’s time in heaven. I also read Revelation 21 & 22 last night at bedtime, and there’s plenty of similarities between how this book describes heaven and how the Bible describes heaven. Heaven really is a city, with “pearly” gates and streets paved with gold. When I was a child, I always pictured heaven like a giant throne room, sort of like the throne room stage set-up for the original Broadway production of “Camelot,” of which my mother had the soundtrack (complete with pictures of the stage, which obviously made a big impression on me) growing up, and of which I was fascinated. That mental image always struck me as a little boring, although I certainly wanted to go to my version of heaven more than the Other Place!
Wow, grieving is tiring. It just takes all your energy. I go to bed, I fall asleep almost instantly, and I sleep soundly and dreamlessly. I thought I would have problems sleeping, but no. I conk out right away. It helps that (thank the Lord!) Curious J has started sleeping 12 straight hours at night, without so much as a peep. I am grateful.
But, despite the exhaustion, I’m trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other, choosing one thing to focus on at a time, and trying to at least get a few good things done. I asked JJ last night if he would get up with the girls this morning so I could sleep. Thankfully, he agreed, despite it being Good Friday. I appreciated his kindness.
For lunch today, since I’ve been thinking about Grandma so much, I made fried potatoes Grandma’s way, meaning I sliced them up raw and fried them in bacon grease and onions. (I added garlic salt, which Grandma probably did NOT do, but I figured this is CA. ;)) Oh. My. Goodness. It was delicious! I served them with a baked salmon fillet and spinach salad with almonds and dried cramberries. It was almost gourmet! Grandma would have approved.
(And, no, I don’t normally serve a baked salmon fillet for lunch. But I felt like salmon, and I needed to make our big meal at noontime today, because JJ does not eat supper before an evening church service. So, salmon it was. And it was delicious! Both my girls eagerly gobbled it up.)
All in all, I’m doing okay. I’m staying afloat. I think I’ll be better after our trip east. But, having never gone through the grieving process, I don’t know exactly when to expect to be back to “normal.” Although I suppose that, in reality, things will never go back to the old “normal.” Someone I love dearly has died, and my life will be forever changed. At the same time, change is part of life, so having a new “normal” is still normal. As if any of that makes sense.
So, keeping Grandma close in my thoughts, I’m continuing on.