As usual, it's the quiet times I hear Gods voice. It's those times He continues the healing process. My bath time is where I have my prayer closet. It's where I go to ponder life's circumstances and it's where I come with idea's to save the world.
I've always pondered writing a book. I tried writing snippets about me and my best friend but I found it difficult to keep writing. When I thought about why, it was really quite easy. There was no way I could just write about our relationship because she was a very big part of EVERYTHING that's happened in my life so far. We've been best friends since births. We are sisters from another mister...another mom too! haha The point is, they we have not one drop of the same DNA, we are just as much family...sisters....blood as any other siblings you will find. If I were to write about "us", it would end up being a novel...an autobiographical novel from the second I was born until today.
I wouldn't know where to start. That all got me thinking about the fact that IF I were to write this novel, it would unveil a lot not just about me but other friends and family and I would have a LOT of people to go acquire written permission from before I could publish it. Though I know most would not hesitate, there are a few that would probably like their lives to remain anonymous. They are very private people.
THAT got me to thinking about the people that were once in my life that have since passed on....and the tears began. I started thinking back to the very first time I ever experienced a deep loss of a loved one. That was my Great Grandmother Winnie Miller. More affectionately known as Granny Miller. Some how, my memory retains stuff from back when I was very little. I know this because I have fond memories of my Great Grandmother. I remember her cooking chocolate pies, the BEST chocolate pies EVER! She would set them in the window to cool. They were SO yummy!! I remember going out to the garden with her and getting some veggies for that nights dinner. I remember her mud room where she kept canning supplies and where she did laundry. I loved her great big cast iron (I think it was cast iron) farm sink that was out there. But even after she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, we still had an amazing relationship. Even when she was so far gone she couldn't remember her husband. To her, he was one of the hired hands that was hired to work on the farm. I know that had to be difficult on him but he stayed by her side and she never went to a nursing home. Between him and my Grandmother and my Great Aunts, she was able to stay at home until she passed. But even during her last years when she didn't know who we were, she and I still had a grand time. We would "study for tests". We would walk through fields to school. We would recite nursery rhymes together and she was the reason I could first say my alphabet backwards. (I can't anymore...I'm sure I could but I'd have to take a while to do it! haha).
I'll NEVER forget the day she passed away. I was sitting in school (6th or 7th grade wood shop class) when I was called to the office. I pretty much kept to myself and stayed out of trouble so I knew something was wrong. I didn't know what and I didn't know who but when I was told my dad was there to pick me up, I knew it wasn't good. As soon as I saw my daddy I knew immediately it was my Great Grandma. I lost it. I was so heart broken and sad. While my mom packed for us to go to the viewing and funeral, I sat in our love seat and drew a picture. The picture was of me and her sitting in my great grandparents recliner. It was so hard to say goodbye to her. One thing I learned about myself that day is that I need the viewing and I need the service for my closure. I always worry about how my kids will handle death and so far, have sheltered them from it. But one day, it will be someone they love so dearly that I can't shelter them from it and they will learn about themselves how they best deal with death. Some are content to stay away from viewings and funerals for fear it will be the way they will forever remember them but for me, I need that last goodbye. That is one reason the deaths that have happened in my life in which I could not attend the services have been the hardest for me to get over. My Grandmother Thompson. My Uncle Lester. My cousin Mark.
But those weren't the only ones. While all of this is playing through in my mind another loss came to mind in which no one got closure. I'll leave his name out for the family's sake. I don't know that would want all that out there but he was my birthday buddy. It was once a joyous thing. You see, my cousins (the ones in this family in particular...do to circumstances) where more like brothers and sisters to me. We were together more than we were apart. So, sometimes, we'd have a birthday cake together. But whether we were together or not, he'd ALWAYS come to mind. Today is no different other than the fact that it's bitter sweet. SO many fond memories of our childhood together but still a void. Someone I loved like a brother that I never got to say goodbye too. He went missing years ago and it wasn't too many years ago we learned that he had passed a long long time ago. So March 13th isn't a day of celebration for me. It's a day of remembrance....of missing him....of reflection of years past. He had a smile you could never forget and the biggest brown eyes. The tears started flowing at this point and memory after memory was visited. Forts at Granny and Grandpa Hardings. Baseball up on the hill. Tag. His art work. His laugh.....
And of course, my daddy was the most difficult loss I've experienced. I've blogged a lot on that so I'm sure you all know how I felt about losing him.
Remembering all this had me in tears. The tears got me to thinking about crying. There was once a time I couldn't cry. I felt I needed to but I just couldn't. This was not long after my dad passed. I knew I was taught that God bottled our tears but what happens when our tears dry up? What if we have no tears left to cry? Why could I not cry all those years? I learned that I had bottled up so much grief that I had built up a wall. Kind of put myself in an emotional bubble to avoid pain. Problem was, I had bottled the pain up with me. This pain was a darkness that followed me around for years. That is until I realized I had never truly dealt with all my grief. I just recently started dealing with the bottled up grief. I'm slowly pouring that bottle out and guess what's happening? My tears have come back! Healing tears. Tears that wash the deep wounds clean. If God truly bottles up our tears, I fear I'll have gallons of them waiting on me. So you see, crying isn't for the weak. It isn't just for babies. It isn't just for women and kids. Tears are for the healing! Tears are for the hurting. It's cleansing the soul and the mind and the heart. When we bottle up our fear and hurt and anger and pain we are like a blister. When you have a blister in your finger that festers up and fills up with fluid and pain. As long as we leave all that in there, the pain never goes away. We try and find things to dull it or temporarily take it away but it always comes back. BUT, if you take a needle and prick that blister and let that infection out, we get relief! The pain eases up and over time goes away! That's how we are. That's is how we are! If we don't deal with that pain, it just festers up and festers up and until your release it, it just builds up more and more and pain.
So, when you feel the need to cry, cry! There is healing in our tears!