betrayal

It's almost May....
I wonder how I got here?

Where have the months gone? Have I been sleeping? Crawling? Hibernating? How did the months pass without me noticing? So many moments it felt like time stood still. I, overwhelmed by grief, by the new reality, was just trying to get through moments, was just trying to do this minute or that. Later, without consciously choosing to, the moments became hours, and then days... I am not gonna lie, I still have days in which I just need moments to pass. Moments of grief, of incredible emptiness, of complete brokeness, of a thousand unanswered questions. Moments in which all I could or can do was just hold on.. Hold on to the promise and knowledge of life in Christ.

Where have the moments gone? Have I been sleeping? Crawling? Hibernating? How have the moments passed? Was I numb? Deafened by the loss and gripped by fear? How have the moments passed and how did the moments pass...? Weeks seemed to drag and yet they flew. Days were never ending, and yet some were done in the blink of an eye. There were dark days. Pitch black. Some charcoal. Others pale grey. And every tint of dullness in between. I read in a book on grief that a fog can flood your life, that through that fog you can't see clearly, can't think clearly, can't engage clearly. It's in that fog that you get wet and damp and cold; frozen to the bone. Frozen in your grief. The fog hardly lifts. Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't. You can't blow the fog away. People around you can't lift the fog, as much as they may try.
I love invites to people's houses - and sometimes I have the courage and energy to accept the invite. Sometimes I don't and then they stop asking... I wonder sometimes if they've forgotten that I have lost my sister, my friend - and they just kept moving on.
I love being around people and at the same time I hate it. It's awesome to watch friendships blossom and siblings interact even though it hurts to think that my friendship with my Lianne so abruptly came to a stop and we only had 25 years to spend together.
I love spring and new life and flowers and blossom. Love the way the seasons change... Yet I remember clearly that autumn day, knowing Lianne was nearing the crossing into eternity real soon. I remember saying to my aunt and cousin that I loved fall - the golden leaves, the scents and moisture, but man was I dreading the dreary, dark, winter... (That evening she entered glory...) And now the winter past, Spring is here. I don't remember winter. Don't know how I did January 15 or February 2 or March 11, OR ANY OTHER DAY. Don't know how I moved from one moment to the next...


Sure I smiled. Sure I laughed. Sure I had moments that I thoroughly enjoyed the company of the people around me. I had moments in which new friendships grew, in which I met new people and came to love things I never knew I could love. There were moments where I cherished new memories and savoured moments of sipping tea or nibbling on a treat. Savoured laughter and joy...

I cried a great deal of tears. I know they don't go unseen. In your living room, in the store, in my car, in a classroom, in my house, on my pillow. During a sermon, a song, a walk, a glimpse, a picture or a tag online. I don't know what triggers tears. Don't know when they will come. They roll ever so freely and sometimes I can bite my tongue and they don't come. Sometimes I miss the tears... When I want to cry because it hurts so bad but I can't. Sometimes I miss the tears, wonder where they are. Did I get numb to the pain and no longer feel it? I feel bad that I haven't cried for a while or haven't felt the pain as raw as I did in moments before. My heart is filled with guilt sometimes, that I haven't considered the heavens, or thought about the suffering she went through - when once again I worry about the food I eat today or the clothes I have got. When she just died, and even in the months before I didn't give a shit what to wear or what to eat, and now sometimes I wonder how I can care so much about the earthly stuff. It's odd - Lianne's always been a real and vital part of my life and that will never change. Right now it just becomes less vivid... I miss her.

Now there are moments I long to hear her bitchy comments, long to hear her words of advice which I sometimes took with a grain of salt because she was so much younger. Now I wish she'd call me at 11:30 at night like she did a couple of times accidentally. Now I sometimes hope for a hug or a massage from her even though those touchy feely things were never my thing... Now there are moments when I long to just hear her voice one more time.

It is completely normal to have all those thoughts. Chatting with my psychologist about it all and reading up on the topic has been so encouraging. What I am experiencing is totally normal and expected. (I just had no clue what I was in for when I told Lianne it was okay for her to die... That we'd understand and wanted to keep her her but knew she needed to be with her Saviour...)

I'd no idea that those moments of laughter would feel like betrayal. That those moments in which I found joy for the first time would make guilt wash over me. I hadn't the slightest clue that the lack of tears could almost hurt more than the gushing waterworks. No part of me ever realized that the absence of people asking me how I was doing could feel so empty - where before I wished they would stop asking. I had never thought that changing my laptop background could feel like such betrayal... So I changed it right back to our family photo - and I think it will stay like that for a while.


I have been reading a lot about grief, about loss, about trusting God even when it hurts, about death and hell and heaven and eternity. Never has the Easter season tugged my heart strings as it did this year. The reality of death, of suffering, of pain, of the grave breaks my heart each time. The suffering Lianne endured is just a glimpse, the slightest fraction of what Christ went through on Calvary. Oh then that blessed Easter morn! When He rose! Christ is risen and He conquered death. Stands victorious. With that promise, that knowledge I entered the new week... Christ is risen and in Him I live. More amazingly, Lianne no longer needs to endure suffering, no longer lives in a cancer infested body, no longer needs to fight earthly powers or satan and sin. She's alive, fully alive, and made whole. What a promise, what a comfort!

As I tried to proofread this post tears rolled down my cheeks once more. I always read what I wrote out loud and hope to catch the mistakes. But with the tears that ran almost all was blurry. It hurts and yet it is so good to put these feelings to words. It helps me process, helps me figure out what ahs been going on in my head, in my mind, in my heart. It gives light to the situation but I will never forget how Christ holds me through this all, He holds me by the hand and lifts me up above the waves.

It is in His strength that I live and it is in His rising I have life.
And so can you!