- Dag Hammarskjold
You know the woman on your GPS device who tells you how to go from point A to point B? But then you decide she's not correct and try your own route? And then she tries to correct you without appearing to be perturbed but you can tell she is as she tries to get you back on track?
It's been five weeks today since David died. How am I? I'm not sure. Yesterday I tried to go to lunch with friends, defied the WAZE (GPS) woman because I thought I knew a shortcut, and ended up in a huge traffic jam. I finally headed back home. But she was trying to correct me all the way. It was annoying.
Today I woke up sick, with a sore throat and laryngitis. (No, it's not because I was yelling at the GPS lady. I wanted to but I wasn't.)
Over the last decade or so I have considered myself a bit of an expert on grief and how it affects people differently. Also, I'm well aware of my tremendous support system, including my family and David's family, as well as friends galore.
As David's son used to say "Everybody loves my dad."
My favorite grief devotional, given me by my friend who's about a month ahead of me in this sad journey, has the Dag Hammarskjold quote above for today's reading. At first I didn't agree with his forgiveness concept but then decided he was referring to people who've gone on before us. (And who am I to disagree with Dag Hammarskjold about most anything?)
Here is what has come to my mind several times today. The day David died was a wonderful day for us. We had a great doctor's appointment where he was cleared for future minor surgery, we ate at one of our favorite restaurants, then went to the grocery store, David taking his cart and half the list like always. Late in the afternoon I said something to David that I have since come to regret. I congratulated him again on doing the extremely hard work of getting well with his usual amazingly good humor. But, because he was just declared to be back in the ball game, I added: "You know David, I kept up a good front but I'm not sure that I could actually have gone on without you."
And then a couple of hours later he was gone.
As time has gone on I so regret saying that. But maybe Dag Hammarskjold (who really was an authority on pain and grieving) has a point. The last line of today's devotion is "The question now is, Can I let it go? Because if we can, we can be assured that our loved one has already done so. "
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