If I were Julie Andrews, then I might have some neat little song to break into here with cute little witticisms that would have a flock of children (all clothed in re-purposed curtains, of course) hanging on my every word. I suppose I have much to be thankful for, especially my taste in curtains, right now, but I don't seem to have words, much less a melody and a handful of rhyming couplets.
I have spent some time this past week reacquainting myself with my husband. As I have looked through old photos, seen snippets of videos, or even found Emmett's old journals, I find myself remembering Emmett before cancer, and it is like falling in love with a stranger. I had forgotten how his carefree laugh sounded or how much he could eat or how well he played percussion. It was nice to remember life together before cancer, hard, but nice.
Grief is a strange companion. Because of our schedules, Emmett and I were used to long periods apart. So in some ways, I still feel like I am waiting for the full awareness of his absence to fall on me, like I'm walking in some crazy dream. Other times, my heart physically hurts inside my chest as if it is being squeezed by giant hands.
So I come back to writing without any particular words or wisdom to share. I've been swimming in the psalms recently, just to dwell with other writers overwhelmed and disoriented by waves of emotion. When Emmett was helping me with this blog, psalm 51:15-17 came to mind:
Open my lips, Lord,
and my mouth will declare your praise.
You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it;
you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.
My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart
you, God, will not despise.
Although this psalm came from a heart overwhelmed with guilt, I find that loss leaves me with feelings very similar to guilt. Not that I feel guilty, but that shame and unworthiness are remarkably similar feelings to emptiness and loneliness. With shame we realize that all our acts are filthy before God, and with emptiness we realize that all our acts are meaningless without God. The awareness of sin brings a profound sense that God does not have to love us (though he chooses to love us rather recklessly), and loss tempts us to believe that God does not love us. So I have been crying out with David for the Lord to open my lips, to delight in my broken spirit, and to restore unto me the joy of my salvation.
I do not know what this blog will become. I don't really much care at the moment. I write to make sense of my life, and so I suppose I will be writing for a long time. Feel free to join me.