My Grief Observed

So, today has been really awful.

Today marks the one year anniversary of my grandfather's death. 

Now, death is no shock to me. All of my grandparents have passed away. Multiple great-aunts and uncles as well...not to mention what seems like hundreds of church members. Funerals are just another event I have to go to every so often.

But this--not to be dramatic, but this death affected me in a way I'd never experienced.

My dad's family is hard to describe. They're Catholic, but most of them don't practice Catholicism on a regular basis. I wouldn't say that religion, or God for that matter, is something that's a priority to them. That doesn't change the love I have for them; it's just something that has always been an issue in how we relate to one another. However, my whole life I have observed as my dad has tried to love them while gently pointing them in the right direction. My grandmother accepted the Lord right before she died; I never knew of my grandfather doing anything like that.

My Grandpa was a wonderful man. When I was little, he would read me books and take me to the toy store to get whatever new Barbie doll I wanted at the time. He would always complain about spending too much money on me, but I knew that secretly he loved it. I was the youngest of the grandchildren, so I got spoiled more than I should have. I remember sitting at the dinner table with him and my dad, eating boiled crabs and crawfish until we couldn't possibly hold anymore. I loved visiting my grandparents, and I knew they loved me.

However, as I got older, things began to change. When I was 14, my grandmother died of lung cancer, and that was a devastating blow to our family. In the years that followed, my Grandpa became much more isolated and didn't really try to stay connected with the rest of us. It got even worse when he remarried a year later. The family wasn't ready to adjust to a new "grandmother" figure and the tension was uncomfortable. When I finally came to Bryan and had a legitimate excuse for not visiting, I didn't. I am ashamed to say that the last time I saw my Grandpa in person was the summer before my freshman year of college. I was hurt and felt abandoned by him. I felt like he didn't care and didn't love me enough to pursue a relationship with his own granddaughter, so I decided that I wouldn't put forth the effort either. I stopped calling. I stopped caring.

Then during the fall semester of my senior year, I got a phone call from my Dad, saying that my Grandpa was really sick and that they were on the way down to Louisiana to visit him. I was surprised, because I didn't know he was doing that poorly. The next day, they called me again, and this time all my mom said was, "He's gone." 

I was shocked. I remember being at Bimbo's with a bunch of friends, and just bolting out of the restaurant and breaking down in the parking lot. I couldn't stop crying. I was completely overwhelmed with feelings of sadness, guilt, anger, and fear. I felt so guilty for the way I had treated him these past few years....and I was so afraid that he had never chosen to follow Jesus. The more I began to think about that, the more hysterical I became. Why would God allow someone to die when they didn't know Him? Why did it have to be someone I loved and cared about? I couldn't wrap my head around it. 

Sure, I'd been to a thousand funerals. But every single one had been a celebration of life and a time of rejoicing that their pain and suffering was over. They were with Jesus now, so how could we be sad or grieve when we knew they were much happier than they could ever be here? But this was so different. I couldn't be happy. I had nothing to rejoice about. My Grandpa was in hell, and it was too late to do anything about it.

The depression and anger consumed me throughout the next few days of the funeral and visiting relatives, and continued on into the next several weeks. I just couldn't accept or understand the situation. How does one move on from this kind of pain? How do you eventually come to terms with the fact that a loved one will never be with you in eternity, and continue to live life the way you have?

I talked to several people about it, and if I'm completely honest, I never came to a peaceful conclusion. My parents were able to trust that the Lord worked in my Grandpa's life, even if we didn't know about it. They believe he's in heaven now. But I am a more cynical, realistic person...and that's really hard for me to accept. Today has brought back a lot of those dark emotions, and I'm not quite sure how to deal with them.

Right now I feel hopeless and helpless. I feel the pain and despair as vividly as I did a year ago. I don't know how to move on. I don't know what to do to make the guilt and anxiety go away. 

But I do know that the Lord is faithful, and He's working in my life even through all of this mess and jumble of emotions I'm experiencing. 

And I'm also learning that it's OK to be angry with the Lord. It's much better that we talk out our anger with Him than to keep it bottled up inside. He already knows what we're feeling, so we might as well hash it out with Him. 

It's ok that I don't understand and that I don't have peace. 

He's not going anywhere...no matter how much grief I am dealing with.

Letting Go, Letting God; A Lesson in Leaning

I'm not quite sure where to start.

I'm back at Bryan for one final semester. Having already graduated with my Piano Performance degree, I just needed a few more credits to complete my Theatre degree and I'll be done with undergrad for good.

At first, I was super excited to be coming back. I love Bryan! There's nowhere else I'd rather be in the whole world. I feel more at home here than anywhere else, and whenever I'm away all I do is think about being on this campus. I couldn't have been more thrilled at the thought of returning.

But as the summer went on, I began to think more and more about my situation. Most of my class was gone. Graduated. Done with this time of their lives. Moving on.

And I was stuck.

My roommate, Emilie, was gone and moving to Knoxville for a new job. I was going to be living in a dorm room by myself.

None of the people that I started college with as an awkward freshman would be here with me anymore, and it made my heart hurt.

But I convinced myself that it would all be OK. I have other friends. I have other reasons to enjoy Bryan College. I don't need those people. I would be just fine.

So....I get here for the start of the semester. I move into my room. I decorate everything just the way I want...and then I realize that it's just me. Alone.

I felt so incredibly lonely.

Sure, I have other friends. And those people mean the world to me. My suite mate Megan is awesome, and my best friend Justin is always there for me no matter what. But I think the real problem is that I feel like I don't belong here anymore.

I mean, think about it. I already had my 4 years here. I walked across the stage and got my diploma. I should be finished with college. I should be moving on to bigger things.

I've really been struggling with this lately; feeling like everyone wants me to leave, and feeling self-conscious about being stuck here. But my friends have helped me understand that it's just me feeling that way. Nobody wants me to go. The people that matter to me love me. And that's all I need to know.

I'm here for a really good reason. And because I'm here, God is going to teach me to rely on Him in a way that I've never had to before. Isn't that the way it always works? We think we're in such a good place with God until something happens and we're forced to realize that we weren't actually leaning on Him as much as He wants us to.

Which is completely.

So here's to a final semester of trusting in the Lord to be my Best Friend and to be by my side as I figure out this thing called life.

Wish me luck.