Isolation: like snow in winter

Grief, like winter, is a season. It seems to last forever, but it does gradually recede and lessen. Perhaps that's why I haven't been burning to write as often. Or perhaps that's why my journal doesn't get my attention as much. But grief is not over. Winter comes back every year, and every year we groan under the weight of all the clothes we have to wear to keep warm. We complain about the snow that makes it hard to carry on our daily lives. But then it is gone again, and we can feel the sun on our faces.

Let me be clear. I am not "done" grieving. Not by a long shot! This last week, I heard of another woman I know who has joined the ranks of the widowed. Her husband died suddenly and unexpectedly (not by suicide, but by heart attack). I can recall those days of shock and unreality. A week ago he was alive when she woke up. Today he is gone, they've had the funeral and her life is completely changed. It's the worst feeling in the world.

Even though it is such a long road, and grief never really seems to end, everyone who has walked this way tells me: it will be easier. Eventually I will feel joy again. I am looking forward to that day.

In the first few weeks of loss, when it all seemed like a terrible nightmare I couldn't wake up from, and when I didn't want to wake up again, I didn't accept grief. Then after a few months, I accepted that I had to take the time to grieve, and allow it to be the process it is: long and slow or long and fast. In any case, it is what it is.

Now, I am seeing daylight in various places. I don't spend as much time in maudlin thoughts, or feeling depressed. I have finished taking anti-depressants and sleeping pills. I don't go for regular check-ins with my doctor to make sure I'm still progressing as I should be. I don't see a counselor as often (although I'm not ready to stop seeing her altogether at this stage).

The big thing for me right now is isolation. That is what winter feels like to me. I have left social circles and other friends have fallen away. Some have fallen away because of busy-ness, not lack of feeling. Some have fallen away because they know I am no longer in crisis and although they mean well toward me, they assume I am doing what they are doing: living my life.

The terror I had at needing help and not being able to get it is still there. I have to be honest. I do not know how I will get things done. I am not superhuman. But miracles have happened, and other things are undone because I have no one to help me.

I admit that I am still angry that I have to be in this place. Why couldn't this have happened to another woman's husband? (Frankly, I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy, but that's beside the point). Why does my daughter have to live without a daddy when she has never had one and needs one desperately. I fear for her. I pray for her and hope that God has men in mind who will jump in at just the right time. For now, there is no one who is here for her.

Bill Johnson says not to focus on what God has not done but on what He HAS done. I read this over and realize that I am completely focusing on what is missing from our lives. What does winter do for me?

* it gives me the chance to draw inside and rest more than I would in the summer
* it creates the need to bundle up, draw comfort and seek after Him
* it fills my heart with longing for His Presence

I long for that day promised in Song of Songs 2:

10 My beloved spoke and said to me,
“Arise, my darling,
my beautiful one, come with me.
11 See! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.
12 Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
is heard in our land.