Lightening Bolts

This past little while has been the most miserable, exasperating, lonely, distraught, hopeless, depressive, and wishing-I-was-dead-too several days that I believe I have experienced in a long time. "A long time" seems somewhat strange to say, seeing as how it's only been 46 days since he's died. Hmmm...I can't believe that I've made it 46 days. I think the words 'a long time' are fitting, after all. On the first day I didn't think I would make it to the second day, let alone the 46th day.

I haven't been blogging much lately. There are several several reasons. One reason is that excluding the natural and most obvious chaos that we're experiencing around here because our Daddy is not here with us, we are in the midst of crazy house-remodeling-chaos. We are the luckiest people. We are getting to have so many fun things done inside the house right now, including brand new and stunningly beautiful windows, wall removals, rooms being painted, furniture moving (not the normal moving...this moving is through windows that needed to be removed to accomodate our favorite extra large furniture, plus furniture being passed along some massive manly shoulders, up on the roof ledge, and up through the addition window!), piano moving, closet reorganizing, kitchen emptying, more wall removal to change windows to doors, window moving, kitchen cupboard removal, kitchen sink removal!, and whole kitchen removal. Plus new appliances arriving by special mover delivery all the way from Northern Idaho spearheaded by my ever reliable mom, flooring and patio design and such, packing and organizing all kitchen drawer stuffs spearheaded by my dad, and now eating our meals in the garage. (Thanks for that, too, Grandfather!) Thank heavens for a large garage...we not only have new shelves built in there, (Thanks, guys!), but are able to store all the new kitchen appliances, old kitchen appliances, living room furniture, bikes, toys, laundry machines, microwaves, flooring, new windows, and everything else under the sun. Oh yeah, the car, too. Needless to say, it is crazy over here. Crazy, and yet fun in a strange and twisted way. Some may say this is not the best time for all of this craziness, but I say why not. It has been good for me to have something else to think about besides my misery for a change. And truthfully, it is so dang fulfilling to see all the things Naki had planned inside his head come to fruition for his house. He really wanted to do all these things so badly. And because of him and people's love for him, we're able to do it. Thank you to all of those who are giving so generously of their talents, their supplies, their connections, and their patience as we figure all of this remodel stuff out! Today we drove my mom and my brother Tim to the airport. We'd been gone a while, and it was getting close to lunch time. Eva was finished with being in the car and was anxious to get back home to eat. She whined to us, "I hungry for the garage!" Apparently, she doesn't mind eating out there. They say it may take about 2 weeks to get all of this accomplished, which in remodeling speak, is pretty amazing. That is unheard of, since they're building the cabinets and everything in that period of time. I can't wait to see all of it come together. So bittersweet. Finally getting to do all of our house dreams, but without him to enjoy it with. *sigh*

The main reason I haven't been blogging is somewhat complex. When I first started writing soon after Naki died, it was because I found that I needed an outlet of sorts to help me explore my feelings and my experience with grief and loss. It was so therapeutic for me that I would find myself thinking or processing an emotion I was feeling and knew that I just had to sit down and write it out. After doing so for a couple of weeks, I was surprised to find how many were rooting for me and were strengthened by my thoughts and words. This was something I hadn't expected, and found that Heavenly Father uses all of us and all of our experiences for each other's good. If we don't pay attention to those around us, their experiences, and at least try to learn from them, then we are fools. So I realized that I had the opportunity to use my experience for the good of others. This empowered me, and yet it crippled me. I soon found myself feeling an emotion that I would normally have written about, and yet started editing those emotions in my head before writing about them. I found myself feeling that if I actually wrote out the dark dark dark and draining thoughts and emotions that I was actually thinking or feeling, those reading would not be strengthened from my words but would instead be saddened, depressed, and discouraged. And so I would not write, but instead would go to sleep and cry. Not that I didn't do that before, but this time it was different. I wasn't healing...I felt stagnant.

One of the things I read in a book a friend gave me about how to survive the loss of a loved one is that the grieving process is not to be pictured as a slanted line that starts at the bottom and gradually and continually moves up and up. Instead, it is to be pictured as a lightening bolt. It starts at the same spot as the afore mentioned line, and in fact may start moving upward on a slant. But instead of continually moving in that direction, you may come back down in a straight unslanted line, move surprisingly forward, and shockingly back, jagged and unsmooth, jolting and painfully unpredictable. That is exactly how this whole thing feels. I was so furious on the 2nd day after his death. I got through that bout of anger and felt relieved when it was over. I naively thought that *Whew!*...I've made it through the anger. Little did I know that it was only the tip of the iceberg. I've been revisiting anger for the past week, and it's been a doosey. No one should have to experience this kind of anger. I thought I was dealing with it, until one night I woke up in a cold sweat from a series of dreams in which I was beating up anyone I met with a 2x4. I was pretty fierce, and the worst part was that I didn't feel any remorse, whatsoever. Apparently, I'm pretty damn mad. Yes, I said damn. I've also discovered that I can swear up a good blue streak. So far, only in my mind. I'm working super hard on controlling it and not developing any mental habits that I don't want hanging around forever. But truthfully sometimes those words are the only words that can honestly express the anger that I feel oozing from my soul. I had a heartbreaking moment this past weekend at my niece's baptism, when I realized that I had been holding so hard onto this anger...I was enjoying being furious beyond description. It occurred to me while I sat there at that beautiful service that if I don't work through this anger, and decide to not hold on to it as my new identity, then I will in fact carry it with me beyond this life. If there is anything I know for sure, it's that you can't take your "things", your mortal possessions, with you after this life is over. What you can take with you is what you have learned, your knowledge, who you've become, and the love or hate you've developed towards the people you encounter in this life. It was a shocking moment for me to realize that when I die, if it was tomorrow, that I would carry that horribly drowning, strangling, and suffocating feeling of hatred towards my Heavenly famly and myself forever. There would be no hugging going on, only a bunch of punching, kicking, screaming, crying, etc...heaven help us all if I happen upon a 2x4 there...So, now I'm working, AGAIN, on getting through my extreme anger.

That, in a not-so-short summation, is why I haven't been writing. I've been worried that I wouldn't help anyone by being so negative and quite frankly, a huge downer. But, I had a huge realization this past weekend that writing is not for anyone reading but is in fact part of MY healing process. If I offend, sadden, or depress anyone, I apologize. But just hang in there...on this lightening bolt-shaped ride of grief, there are some really horrible moments. I worried that they would get old and repetitive. But now I know that it is important that they repeat...they teach me over and over again the doctrines that will help me heal. One time just isn't enough. I need lots and lots of repitition of the teachings of the Savior that heal and purify. And so, just like the awful and wishing-you-weren't-alive moments, there are hopeful and uplifting moments as well. Currently, there are more of the former, but I can hope that the balance will gradually shift and change, and jolt me back to a new and better place.