Grieving- Everyone is different

I have gotten the picture that everyone has a different experience with grief.  I've heard that before but I suppose no one as significant to me as dad has died in my own life.  It is a different experience than when one of my best friends daughter died so then that makes every grief different.   Olivia dying rocked my world in a much different way as I was just crazed in love for her family and THEIR loss.   I loved Olivia dearly.  I sorely miss her.  The pain for their family was numbing.  I could walk with them but didn't live literally through it with them.

Now Olivia's parents are comforting me by listening to the sea of my own confusion of dad being gone now.  It seems a tunnel of processing which I never considered.   Everyone is different.  Dad has really not been himself for a long time but even the hope that that could change is  final.  The best last time was showing him pictures from the thirties of his family.  He was so quiet and looking so intently.  I'm weird. Those people who are also gone now, meant a great deal to dad and that memory is at rest too.   It was a comfort though to me that he had that attachment to them still in spite of his dementia.

The last few days have been trying.  My inside has been a mess but there is no t-shirt so it isn't apparent on the outside.  That means other people are wearing the same shirt and we don't know it.  I have a lot of people to take care of and I'm not feeling a lot of want to do that.  I am muddling along through it and hoping for a let up.

It is several days later since I last wrote.  Wrapping these thoughts up I have been thinking a lot about how to handle my own internal grieving in light of pressing forward with the living.  I can not possibly expect anyone to know what goes on.  I only know that Christ's peace is still true always now and eternally.  The kids are asking good questions and are at ease with death as a part of life.  They encourage me and I am thankful they haven't been shut off from the reality of death as part of life.

Muddling forward.  Every day is different.

Work

A schoolteacher friend of mine declared her desire to spend as much time outside as possible this summer to offset her inside time.  Being outside seems like a worthy goal.  I have ten acres of yard to tend, some easy and some more difficult.   Last summer I was away so much that the jungle certainly had a chance to creep in.  There are vines everywhere!!!    Clipping, mulching, digging, and loving almost every minute of it.   The weeds are ridiculous.  I figure I can't take too many days off in a row or the yard will eat me in my sleep.

Thirteen hives have kept me hopping and pleasantly addicted to bonding with all their cute little selves.   The bees are pretty weary of all the rain we've had and I admit it is fascinating figuring out the effects of bees being trapped in the hive making more bees.  Ooh, la la.  So many bees in the making but not as much honey as I'd like to see but a bee needs to get out and stretch every now and then to bring in the pollen.

My vegetable garden is not as bad off as it could be.  Pole beans seem to be a wise choice as they can climb away from the dirt.  Zucchini wins every year to bury us in zucchini.   I hope my friends like them.  The corn will be good if we get around to weeding it.  My brother put me onto a kind of roundup to beat down the exterior weeds.  The weeds are actually dead there. Whoa.

So every few days I am worse than tired.  I slept for twelve hours last night!   Another friend suggested drinking more water and Google has confirmed that as a good idea.

Dad

is done with his battle.  I didn't realize I hadn't blogged since dad was making his rapid decline.  Now I read my last post and think about how now I am in the process of defining my new normal of not having dad's prescence in my life.  I'm sure it is sort of obvious to anyone who has experienced grief but I haven't lost a parent till now and the hole in everyday experience amazes me.   Dad is everywhere.   I read an article and think about dad's possible reaction.  I weed the garden and think about how much he paid attention to gardens.  I pronounce a word and know he won't be bothered by my pronunciation.  So.......weird.

I should write more about the last few weeks so I can read it later when I might forget it.  I'm mostly thankful he is done with his labor of life and is at rest from it all.