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If I were to write a diary entry today, it would be something like this:

30 March 2015,

Dear diary,

Woke up this morning, everything felt different. I was not in my bed and there were no familiar sounds or disturbances. There was no one to answer the doorbell and I had to jump my self out of stupor and answer the door. I soon realise, the loss, the change, it kicks in. She is not there. I remind myself, take the dog for a walk, cook your own breakfast, feed the dog, get ready for work, it’s a day to wash your hair, uggh it’s Monday morning… Only relief is my sister has a holiday, so for once I can ask her to take the dog for a walk this early and sleep for half an hour more.

I sleep. It helps to forget for a while, and restart the day on a better note. I do not get up for the alarm. I get late. So, no time to ponder, no time for breakfast. That’s okay. Breakfast is no fun anyway, since I make it for myself and there’s no one to talk to.

I’ll head to work and eat my breakfast, there will be strangers around, but at least I won’t feel lonely. I sit in a rickshaw, call my favourite person in the world, just talk because I need to hear a voice. He sings me a song. Wow! the day gets a bit better. I reach office. The routine, breakfast, tea and my thoughts. I wonder since when is it okay for me to eat carbs. It kills to take a bite, because I remember how healthy my breakfast was when mom was around. Boiled eggs, a fresh fruit smoothie and mom talking about random things.

Then I write today, because I think it’s time to let it out. I read. I read about others grief and how they handle it. It gets me to think. Why did I stop writing? Maybe because I was afraid to feel and think. I can do this. I was made to write. I am a writer. I try. I wonder. I try again. Then I write. Begin with a little. Share that precious photograph. The one that speaks to you of strength. So, I share my heart, my grief. My hand trembles as I am about to hit publish. What will people think? They will think I’m whining. It will depress them. I save a draft. Then the thought hits me. I hear the Lord speak. He points out at the comfort I had found in others who dealt with grief. How their words resounded with love and encouragement. How they documented their healing process. How good it feels to know there is a light at the end of the tunnel. So, why not be a hope and light unto others?

I hit publish. It is okay for people to know I am not okay. I do not have to be strong on my own. I can depend on Jesus. I can glorify His name by being in pain and allowing others to see my healing process. Others can see His healing touch in my life. They have to see my sickness first. Did I do something wrong? Did I deserve this loss? The Lord reminds me of the blind man in the Book of John, Chapter 9:

1. Now as Jesus passed by, He saw a man who was blind from birth. And His disciples asked Him, saying, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God should be revealed in him

It hurts! I have to trust Him. I sing to myself: Bless the Lord oh my soul!

I sang the song when we carried my mother’s body to the grave. It still comforts me. I still trust God. It is so hard. Then I come across this:

I had forgotten this quote that I shared in my July 5, 2006 journal entry. It held me up then and it holds me up now. It was written by Jim Chaffee, caregiver and husband to his wife, Janice, who died in February 2007 after a 3-year battle with multiple myeloma.
“So when my spirit screams “…where the hell are you, God?” my questioning void is filled with the companionship of the One who cried, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken me?” There is no formula here, people, no four easy steps to lead us into understanding grief, no purpose driven “ah-ha” to explain why all this is happening. Christ simply and passionately hikes up His robe, sits down next to me, pulls my tear-stained face into His chest, and He weeps…He weeps with me, He weeps for my wife, He weeps long, deep, body rattling sobs, with snot and tears dripping from His chin. He weeps. From the bowels of one who has felt forsaken, who has felt loss, who aches when I cry “This just isn’t fair!”, who truly feels my pain, He weeps. And in His tears, in that sacred space called sorrow, I know God is there.”   © Jim Chaffee
 

This excerpt is from the blog post by a dear lady named Dianne. Please read her heartfelt post at: http://amyelomawidowsjourney.blogspot.in/2014/05/there-is-love.html

I skipped lunch only to find comfort that a friend had an interview close by. Someone to share lunch with. Yay! This day has some good bits. Had a lovely time. got back to write this post. I finally found my freedom to write again. Bless the Lord oh my soul and all that is within me bless His Holy Name!

Find the amazing song here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r3K3roEF36k

Have a nice day, a nice week and a great year. Pressing onward, leaving the weight of yesterday, setting my eyes on that which lies at the end of this life on earth—a crown, Jesus and eternal life. Just a while, my journey will be done. Only the Father knows when. Jesus give me grace to get through.

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