Funny how the world keeps on moving. Baseball parks are still full of boys in pants and cleats and mud stains and hot dogs. The school buses run their normal routes. Dogs still bark at strangers passing by their fences. Flowers still bloom. The rain showers come and go. My bills are still due on the same day as always. The laundry piles up at the same rapid speed. That nasty black stuff still grows in the crevices of the shower door.
Everything is the same, but nothing is the same. It's so strange.
Things that mattered to me before don't matter anymore. Conversations with friends that were interesting before have lost their luster. I don't care about what so-and-so is doing with whom, who is talking about who, what the latest word is across town. The things that used to stress me out have become minuscule. Life without my mother is bigger than anything I have ever experienced, and dealing with it has become all that my heart can handle.
In a way, the past few months have sent me to a place I had only heard of. A place of utter dependence on God to get me through. A place where you have no other choice but to cling to God. Between the shock and awe of the brain tumor and surgery to the week of hospice care to the actual loss... between all of that, I have felt the Lord pull me closer, and I have given way to Him. I won't lie and say that I haven't turned to my old stand-bys for a little comfort as well (chocolate, carbs, and alcohol), though I wish I could say that I have grieved in the purest most Godly way. But every day, all day long, I talk to Him. And I have come to a relationship with Him where I can tell Him how I really feel and I am certain that He really cares.
Now I feel like a stranger in a foreign world, and I have to relearn how to navigate the streets, how to speak the language, how to be who I am without that one person who made me who I am today. Like I keep telling my dad, we just have to put one foot in front of the other over and over and over again. I think one day, I will wake up and it will be a tiny bit easier. A tiny bit less sad. A tiny bit less painful. But until then, I will just keep moving.
My status on Facebook a couple of weeks ago says it all: One thing I have learned in the past couple of weeks is that sadness isn't necessarily an overwhelming emotion. Sometimes it's simply ever present, just beneath the surface of every thought and moment. Sure am missing her today.
Just because I am moving, doing what I always do, doesn't mean the sadness isn't there. It will always be there. I will miss her forever.
I can't believe it's been four weeks.