thoughts on the second year

When I was originally told that the second year of grief is often harder than the first, it was hard to imagine – but it is so true. In the first year after Ryan died I was able to “function”. I was able to communicate the grief I was feeling. I was able to work through a lot of the feelings I had and it seemed like I was taking the “normal” path of grief. I felt like I was able to share my feelings and not be judged. It seemed okay for me to wear my heart on my sleeve.

I have found that in the course of this second year I have struggled more with expressing myself. I have struggled to figure out where I fit in. I am not longer married but I am not single. I feel like I can’t relate and it often leaves me feeling lost and alone. I find myself shutting down and shutting people out. Sometimes people see it as me being “stand-off-ish” but that is not it and I don’t mean for it to seem that way. I have guarded my heart more carefully, not wanting to feel the hurt that others can cause. I have not wanted to show how much my heart is broken. Some days the pain is so great I don’t have the words to express what I am feeling. I don’t want to cry and I don’t want to see pity in other people’s eyes when I tell them that I am weary and overwhelmed. I don’t want to seem like I am constantly complaining about loneliness. I don’t want to be a burden to other people. Everyone has something that they are dealing with, I don’t want it to seem that I feel my struggles are bigger than theirs – it has become easier just not to share the hurt instead of always feeling selfish.

It feels like life has become about survival. I get up each day because I have to. I have responsibilities that I must meet. Lily and Wyatt need me. I need to do the jobs that God has placed in my life (which I am grateful for). But each day is just a routine. It is something that I need to get through so that I can get back into to bed each night. I want something more. I am seeking God for what that something is, but I am struggling to be patient in my waiting for Him to reveal what His purpose is for me.

The grief is different now too. Of course I still miss Ryan, but I miss also miss more. I miss the life we used to have. I miss being a wife. I miss being appreciated for the things that I do. I miss preparing meals for someone who likes more that pb & j. I miss packing lunches. I miss having a friend in my house each night. I miss dreaming. I miss talking and confiding in someone who loves me unconditionally. There are many times that my tears and heartache are for what my children are missing. I hear all the time about the importance of a daddy’s influence in the lives of sons and daughters. Each time I hear it brought up it takes my breath away. It causes me to worry about how the events of the past two years will shape their lives. I worry that I am not doing enough to mold them into godly children and that they are missing out on more that I could ever give them.

The second year of grief has been difficult. It has hurt. I am hopeful that the third year will be a better year – mentally, emotionally, physically…