A few months ago an acquaintance posted an image titled "the weight of grief". As I viewed it, then, I didn't connect with the power of the image. It was that of a man weighted down by a heavy cloak.
Fast forward a few months, and that image keeps coming to mind.
Over the last two years, I've become acquainted with grief. It has come like slow billows, tiny waves, etching away at pieces of my heart.
It wasn't until the other day, as I cried, really cried, for the first time in a long time, that I realized, grief has weighed me down for a time now. It has come in many forms, but mainly through the losses that life has thrown my way.
The loss of friendships. Even at 32, those losses never come easy. I have found myself wondering about the "could have been's" and the "why's". But, life, just happens. People move. People change. And one day you wake up and realize that once was is no longer. It's bittersweet.
The loss of my Mimmie. This year, I found myself at odds with Easter. It's normally one of my favorite holiday's, but it hurt. I would rather have had her here, watching my girls grow up. Needling me about my girls sleeveless dresses (she much preferred they wore sleeves and sweaters!). I know this is purely selfish--she is no longer in pain. But, still. The loss is so deep. Much deeper than I had ever imagined. And if I am being honest--I wish I had spent more time with her that last day. If only I had known--but, I didn't know.
And that's the frailty of life. Here one minute, gone the next.
I've questioned myself a bit about the fleeting-ness of life. Am I really living the life He has called me too? Am I dawdling too much? Do I tell my loved ones how much I care? I have so much work to do on this little 'ol heart of mine--rather--he has so much work left to do on me.