90 Seconds

Grief.  Sadness.  Pain.  Joy. Anger. Peace.

Feelings.

One thing these people we were sent to told us was that emotions only last for 90 seconds.  It's been scientifically proven, they said.  If you feel it after 90 seconds, that is because you re-trigger yourself by re-thinking about it.

So basically, you are making yourself sad.

As a parent who has lost a child, I found that insulting.  Heck, I felt more than 90 seconds of grief for a friend who lost a child!  I still do.  And more than 90 seconds of joy when years later, another child was born into the house.

But I thought about these people's theory.  I thought about it the day I drove away from their house.  That day, I struggled to keep the tears from running down my cheeks as I drove.  I tried quietly counting to 90, to see if the feeling went away.

It didn't.  It was more stable than that.  Grief. 

It lasted through a 12 mile bike ride, although I found that biking helped.  Repetitive physical activity.

I'm so tired out from all that happened.  In shock from it.  I'm puzzled.  Do I sit down and give up?  Do I fight?  Do I..... what?

Right now, I'm inclined to do nothing.  To rest and recover.  To wait.

The last I heard from God, He said step back and wait, I am going to do something.

I hope this was not of His doing.  I don't think so.  It is not like God.  But it is confusing.  Where is He and what is He doing?  When is He going to step in and do something?

How do I wait?  Patiently?  Passively?  Actively?  I don't know.

So I wait.  Sometimes crying, sometimes just going about life.  Waiting for God to talk again.  He told me He is still here.  Reminded me, going back in time to a time before a friend stepped in to walk with me, reminding me that even then, He was with me.  I know that.  But I am so confused.

I feel like I am in shock.  Stunned.

Some days, I feel like giving up.

Then I sleep.  Or walk.  And pray for the strength to go through one more day.

And hope that God shows up and something happens.

It hasn't yet.

So I live one day, sometimes one hour at a time.

I ignore friends when they ask how I am.

How can I answer?

I'm ashamed of what I was called, even if it was not even close to the truth.

I'm too ashamed to talk to my friends.

What if they believe it?

So I just live one day, sometimes one morning at a time.

With simple things.  Today, I am going to de-bone the chicken I cooked and make dinner with it.

Today, I am going to clean the kitchen and plan the week's meals.

This afternoon, I am going to do a load of laundry.

One thing at a time, I slowly do, trying to stay involved in it, straining to focus and not think.

But it is almost spring, and most years, I would be outside searching the garden for the first shoots of my bulbs.  This year, I dread them.  My bulbs will bloom, and I will see them and be sad remembering.  They were a gift.  They used to make me smile.  Now, they bring tears.

I'm so confused that I don't know which way is up anymore.  So I de-bone chicken and do laundry.

It makes him happy.  Maybe that is all there is to life.