I'm finding that grief is much like an emotional roller coaster without the exciting thrills. The "highs" seem to be when I'm functioning on a somewhat "normal" level. I feel an almost literal struggle to emotionally climb to the top of the hill and then something seemingly insignificant is able to send me rushing downward fighting gravity again. Simple things like cancelling an appointment for Aimee that was scheduled months ago can cause the reality of her absence to smack me in the face.
I went to the temple today and I didn't want to leave. I feel peace there, and yet I know I have other things I need to attend to as well. I don't want to miss spending time with my other children, but it is an effort to smile, let alone want to do something I would have previously enjoyed. I feel guilty I'm not more fun to be with, and yet I know it's somehow reasonable.
I started reading The Birth We Call Death by Paul H. Dunn and Richard M. Eyre and found this quote, "Don't try to fight the sorrow you feel. The only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of life." I would suffer every moment if that is what was required to feel those moments of adoration and love for my daughter, but I hope the intensity of the hurt will decrease but not the intensity of the love. I think the pain will become less raw and the love will remain. That is how it was when my sister died nearly 20 years ago. I just feel I'm still in shock over Aimee's death.
Russell M. Neilson said in his April 1992 conference talk, "Mourning is one of the deepest expressions of pure love." Quotes like this help me feel it is ok to feel this pain. I know logically it is appropriate and expected to grieve a loss such as this, but somehow I feel like mourning is dishonoring the atonement. Reading and rereading these quotes brings me peace and gives me permission to feel allow the hurt to wash over me.
I'm finding that "God's hands are most often present to sustain and comfort us in our suffering rather than to remove the trials and suffering from our lives." (But If Not volume 2 by Joyce and Dennis Ashton) And as Henry Ward Beecher said, "the moment and ill can be patiently borne it is disarmed of its poison, though not of its pain."
I do feel God's love and the peace the comforter brings, but I still feel the deep ache of longing for my sweet daughter. I miss my friend.
I'm trying to do what needs to be done daily and then a little bit more. Reading church articles, scriptures and grief books help ease the pain as does praying and attending the temple. Sometimes distractions like reading a novel or watching a tv show help, although I don't do that much. I think I repeat myself over an over by talking about different parts of the last week of Aimee's life or the funeral or what I miss most, but it does help sometimes to talk about it. Other times I just want to think about it all on my own or think about something entirely different.
I'm taking it one day at a time, sometimes 1 hour at a time, sometimes 1 minute at a time and sometimes 1 breath at a time.
~Wendee
I went to the temple today and I didn't want to leave. I feel peace there, and yet I know I have other things I need to attend to as well. I don't want to miss spending time with my other children, but it is an effort to smile, let alone want to do something I would have previously enjoyed. I feel guilty I'm not more fun to be with, and yet I know it's somehow reasonable.
I started reading The Birth We Call Death by Paul H. Dunn and Richard M. Eyre and found this quote, "Don't try to fight the sorrow you feel. The only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of life." I would suffer every moment if that is what was required to feel those moments of adoration and love for my daughter, but I hope the intensity of the hurt will decrease but not the intensity of the love. I think the pain will become less raw and the love will remain. That is how it was when my sister died nearly 20 years ago. I just feel I'm still in shock over Aimee's death.
Russell M. Neilson said in his April 1992 conference talk, "Mourning is one of the deepest expressions of pure love." Quotes like this help me feel it is ok to feel this pain. I know logically it is appropriate and expected to grieve a loss such as this, but somehow I feel like mourning is dishonoring the atonement. Reading and rereading these quotes brings me peace and gives me permission to feel allow the hurt to wash over me.
I'm finding that "God's hands are most often present to sustain and comfort us in our suffering rather than to remove the trials and suffering from our lives." (But If Not volume 2 by Joyce and Dennis Ashton) And as Henry Ward Beecher said, "the moment and ill can be patiently borne it is disarmed of its poison, though not of its pain."
I do feel God's love and the peace the comforter brings, but I still feel the deep ache of longing for my sweet daughter. I miss my friend.
I'm trying to do what needs to be done daily and then a little bit more. Reading church articles, scriptures and grief books help ease the pain as does praying and attending the temple. Sometimes distractions like reading a novel or watching a tv show help, although I don't do that much. I think I repeat myself over an over by talking about different parts of the last week of Aimee's life or the funeral or what I miss most, but it does help sometimes to talk about it. Other times I just want to think about it all on my own or think about something entirely different.
I'm taking it one day at a time, sometimes 1 hour at a time, sometimes 1 minute at a time and sometimes 1 breath at a time.
~Wendee
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