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Journey of Grief

That early morning in October changed our lives forever.  I was still in bed when the sheriff’s deputies knocked on our door.  Dan was at work and our youngest daughter, our only child still living at home, was in bed.  Our youngest son had moved out the Saturday before that fateful Monday.  I don’t usually sleep in that late, but this particular Monday I’d felt the need to be lazy.  I remember hearing something that caused me to stir, but didn’t wake me up.  Then, I heard it again and knew someone was knocking on the front door.  I remember thinking, “I don’t care who it is, I’m not getting up.”  I don’t think I’ve ever laid in bed and thought such a thing before.  But, I did that morning.  A few seconds later a very loud and insistent knock came, and I bolted out of bed, grabbed my robe and put it on as I tip-toed down the hall to peek around the corner and see if I could tell who was knocking on my door so insistently that early in the morning.  Our front door has an oval of leaded-glass in it that you can see through in spots, but not very clearly.  I could see two dark figures.  So, I knew it wasn’t the only girlfriend I could think of that would come to my house at 8 o’clock on a Monday morning.

I wish I hadn’t opened the door that morning.  I wish I’d decided that I was actually dreaming the whole thing, turned around and gone back to my bedroom, shed my robe and gotten back in bed.  I could’ve just gone back to sleep, woken up later and it all would’ve been a bad dream.  For weeks after that day I felt like I’d somehow caused his death by the way I’d reacted to the deputies.  I felt like if I hadn’t argued with them, if I hadn’t said “No, he didn’t.” when they told me he had died, he would still be alive.  My logical self tells me that that is completely illogical.  But, I couldn’t convince my feelings that my mind was correct.  I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d somehow messed up and I was the reason his body was laying in a hospital bed in Kansas City, MO, instead of him being at work, like he should’ve been at that time of the day.

Our minds are powerful things.  I’m a firm believer in controlling my thoughts.  But, since that day in October, it’s been almost impossible to control my thoughts sometimes.  The first month or so, I’d say it was mostly impossible.  It seems to be getting easier as time goes by.  I don’t have to jump out of bed in the morning as soon as I’m awake to keep my thoughts from descending down and down into the pit of despair.  I can actually lie there for a few minutes and ponder the fact that I’m still alive, that I want to be alive, that God is still good and He is still God and still in control, not just of the universe, but of my little world, too.  He will still tenderly care for His little flock of lambs called the Adams’, even if one of us is now in His presence for eternity.

“And I heard a loud voice from the throne, saying, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them, and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away.  And He who sits on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.”  And He said, “Write, for these words are faithful and true.”  Revelation 21:3-5

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