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.