Today, is another September 30th. This day, four years ago, was the last full day I spent with Josh. Four years! How can this be! Even so, this is the lingering question and statement. How can it be four years?! It took four years to get my college degree and for Josh to get his Masters of Theology. It’s how long we lived in Dallas and the state of Nevada. It's four years of writing sappy blog posts. Four years, is the term of a presidency. It takes 3-4 years to grow asparagus (not that I have tried but it’s an interesting fact). A lot changes in four years, ask any parent of a preschooler. For this fourth year anniversary, I knew I would share something specific, and have pondered and wrestled all month with my emotions - (see previous blog posts: Wake Me Up When September Ends or September's Coming How Do You Feel. For the most part, it still feels like a strange dream. I still miss Josh; that emotion just hangs out, flaring more at times than others. In four years, my grief has in a way “grown up” like a 4-year-old child. I have learned a lot about myself and am still figuring out life. I have tried new things. For example, this weekend I hooked up the camper, drove and parked it like a pro, built a fire, and paddle-boarded (mostly sitting not standing, maybe in 4 years I can stand🤣) – all solo. This is all new stuff. I don’t intend this to be a bragging session about all the cool things I do by myself, but really just a note to say there are many things in my life that are quite different today. These things also help with the healing process; they bring joy and peace. It's sad and true that so much of the grief process we must navigate solo. We don't have to be completely alone in the process - this is also true - but even with supportive friends and family around, everyone’s grief journey is so unique and individualized. It’s often hard to explain the layers that reside in our minds and hearts so they just sit in there in a cloud of mystery. I know in the first year after Josh passed I was a total mess. The days and nights were long and hard. Today, they are easier, even with the weight of heartache that lingers within. My mind and body still feel the tension, and the restlessness that September of 2019 had when we navigated a terminal illness - waking up each day to wonder, is this it? I don’t feel the same intensity or worry today, but those memories still flare up. Four years still seems too long, but then again, everyday without someone you love is too long. I could get stuck in this idea or pause and give thanks. It’s still a choice. Some days I want to just be sad or mad, yet still thankfulness is key. Thanks be to God for the days and nights Josh and I had together, for the 24 years of a dating and marriage relationship (six sets of 4 years is one thought). Thank you for these past four years filled with sorrow, joy, and new adventures. It is still a joy to experience the beauty of this earth. This weekend’s bright full moon was a gift of its own and for me nature continues to provide healing. I am not sure I can really say “Happy September 30," but I can acknowledge that today is a special one for me and others who loved Josh as well. ___ Sidebar: The moon orbits the Earth just over 13 times a year creating 12 full moons or 48 full moons in four years. 🌙 🌝
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The music today (and yesterday) contains many songs that speak to grief in one way or another – whether it be grieving a lost love or relationship, or grieving over a loved one one who is no longer on earth. With the resounding crash of {{ September }} like cymbals in my mind, I stumbled across a song by the 90s grunge band group Green Day. Since then, has been on my rehearsal track for open mic nights. The song, “Wake me up When September Ends.” Admittedly, I do kind-of want to skip this month as mostly everything makes me realize that this was the last month I had with my friend, my love, my husband, Josh. While listening to song again, another thought hit me. Even if there was a magical way to skip this month, the truth would remain that there a piece of my life (and heart) is still missing. Yes, time softens the blow allowing me to not be a crying, sorrowful mess all the time, but it doesn’t take away the ache – the deep scar of loss. Indeed, if I tried to sleep or avoid the whole month of September, I’d wake up and still feel the hurt. I know I have said this before (I am my own resounding sound) but grief doesn’t magically disappear. The depth of our love parallels with the depth of our grief. In my own heartache, I continually realize that no matter how we feel it is still true that we aren’t alone in our grief. God is with us to the depth of our grief. He see it, knows it and doesn’t leave us. In fact, the depth of God’s love parallels the depth of grief. This brings to mind this Scripture passage: “So that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” - Ephesians 3:17-19 NIV What I have found in 4 years of wrestling grief is that God is indeed with me in the depths of my grief. Sometimes I am not sure I really let him in, but I do need him. It’s an ongoing process and sometimes still trusting the God who says, “I’ve got you” is hard. So for both myself and you, my encouragement for this day and this month (whatever day or month that is for you) is this: May we grief grasp the depth of Gods love, ESPECIALLY in the depth of our heartache. In case you need to listen to some Green Day or read the lyrics here the links are below: I read that this song is indeed about grief, "Green Day lead singer Billie Joe Armstrong wrote this song about his father, who died of cancer on September 1st, 1982" • Song Lyrics • Video Lyrics & Song |
Author: JennHi! It's Jenn Brown, writing my story that is now slightly different as we enter a season of new grief. On September 30, 2019, my dear husband Josh passed away after battling brain cancer. Archives
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