Ohmystinkinheck

What? Doesn’t everyone crab with their toes?

Today was hard. Just now, I’m trying to sit back and make sense of it. WHY has it been hard? Why am I feeling so crabby? Nothing fell apart at the seams today. I completed most of my ‘To Do’ list. The kids, though on edge from missing yet ANOTHER DAY of swimming to rain, were remarkably well behaved. Jeff arrived home on time and is grilling chicken. The homeschool supplies has been ordered and I feel completely at ease with this upcoming year’s schedule. I even got up on time this morning (5:00) to work and got a great night’s sleep.

And no, I wasn’t PMS’ing.

And then it dawned on me. I’m miffed. I mean, one of the most amazing men died and the world didn’t skip a beat. I stopped. My family stopped. Some of our relatives stopped. But everything else? It just kept going. In less than a week the details of his life were handled, organized, paid for, buried, and now he’s gone. He’s not coming back.

I just marked about 400 blog entries as read in my Google Reader.
That’s 400 entries in the time I’ve taken off - would I have normally read all of those?
Skimmed them?
Is what I do meaningful? Should I keep doing it?
I mean, I have to work - I pay bills with that money, but do I want to waste a single moment with the superfluous?
Of course I do.
I think.

I’m crabby because I feel lost.
My direction feels skewed - my compass is off.
I want to lay in bed and sleep or read - escape.
Or cry.

So, here I am, li’l Ms. Crabby.
Workin’ through everything one day at a time.
Hoping I’ll figure it out in the end - or not, but have peace about it.

So many of you guys shared your losses. Now share with me the ‘after’.
How do you move on with that huge void in your chest - the one that aches so much you have to press against it with your hand for relief.
That one.

52 Responses to “Crabby”

1. Mrs. Wilson

   What you do DOES matter. It matters a lot to me. You’ve been a HUGE blessing to me and I’m so sorry that you’re hurting. I hate to see (read?) people hurting, especially people as wonderful as you. It’s crazy how fast a person’s life can be wrapped up. But you know what? His life in heaven is just beginning. And, your grandfather obviously left a wonderful legacy here on earth for you to remember him by. Remember the good times, as I’m sure you are. Think of your grandfather waltzing in heaven, as I’m sure he’s having a wonderful time.

2. mary

   “Is what I do meaningful? Should I keep doing it?”

   I struggle with this daily. And I, too, wonder if my time spend on my Google Reader (yep, I’ve been at 400 unread…and 600…) and other similar things are worth it.

   I haven’t yet experienced a loss that’s left a huge void in me, so I can’t offer guidance in that regard (though I do look forward to reading what others have to say about this.) I do ache for you though, Heather, and hope you can move past this quickly. xo

3. Haley

   You just…muddle on through. I lost my paternal grandparents over 2 years ago. Last week, while making cookies from a cookbook I had forgotten belonged to my grandmother I found a bookmark with her writing on it. I lost it.

   It never stops hurting. It just hurts less often. I cried a lot when my grandfather died. The first anniversary was especially hard. I can walk out to my backyard now, look at the tomatoes and burst into tears. Tomatoes were his thing.

   The sadness may feel like it will last forever. But one day you’ll wake up and realize you haven’t cried in one month, two, six, almost a year. And the sadness is still there but isn’t as crushing.

   What you (collective you) do matters so long as you decide it matters. Your own standards of what is and is not important are what matters. To you, raising your children as you raise them, living your life the way you live it, and leaving the legacy that you will leave…matters.

4. Coco

   Crying helps… Talking about things when they hit you and you think you can’t get back up… then months later, when you feel blue and like you can’t get out of bed, you’ll realize it still gets you.

5. Lisa @ The Cutting Edge of Ordinary

   I wish I could tell you that one day the pain will go away, and your heart will heal and life as you know it will feel whole again, but I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you is that the old cliche “time heals all wounds” is kind of true. It does get easier, but it never really leaves you. I think that is a good thing, cause you are feeling something, you know. Yes it may be pain now, but later it will be happy memories, and stories to share. My grandfather has been gone 7 years now. It took me 7 years to be able to make his favorite cake again. See post:

   http://thecuttingedgeofordinary.blogspot.com/2008/07/devil-dog-cake-for-pa.html

   I’m glad I finally made it. He would be happy I did. You will be happy again.

6. MMM

   I don’t think it ever goes away, but we do learn different and new ways to cope. Focus on EACH DAY, and that day only.

   (You’re homeschooling again? When did this happen? What changed your mind about sending them to school?)

7. The Wooden Porch

   I lost my son six years ago. I remember that ache deep in my heart. The only thing I can say to you is that this time of grief will blossom into something more beautiful in which you can remember your grandpa and laugh at the good times and fond memories. Don’t rush it, you can’t. It will come softly and gently when you are ready.

   “As for man, his days are like grass;
   he flourishes like a flower of the field;
   for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.
   But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him,
   and his righteousness to children’s children,
   to those who keep his covenant
   and remember to do his commandments.
   The LORD has established his throne in the heavens,
   and his kingdom rules over all.

   Taken from the Bible in Psalm 103:15-19

8. Elaine

   I don’t know that there is any one answer for this. Everyone grieves in such a personal way and it’s unfair to yourself to think that there is a time frame or spelled out path to your pain. It just is. And when I have lost loved ones (not too often, thank goodness) it has always been about sinking in and letting go… not easy but until I embrace all the wild strings of emotions pulling me every which way, I can’t move on.

   I hope you can figure out your own path and just walk it best you’re able. I’ll be thinking of you, my friend.

9. just beachy

   I remember when my dad died, I was in the 10th grade and I was very, very sad. The beginning of the next week my mom thought I had grieved enough and needed to go back to school. I remember the same “crabby-ness” I just lost a part of my life and didn’t want to move forward. - I kinda liken it to smoking ( did you ever smoke? ) Even some 15 years later, certain things, situations, actions and I still want that cigarette ) It’s always back there somewhere, that pain, that longing, we just learn that we go on. day by day. and some days, we do stay in bed, pull the covers up, and let the crabby be.

   Hugs to you.

10. Gayle

    My mom died 12 years ago and my dad 7 years ago. It is very hard in the beginning. It does get better a little each day, but then (for me) even now there are times that I miss them so. I still dream about them often and when I do I feel comforted. Don’t try to rush yourself, don’t think, “I shouldn’t still be grieving.” Give yourself time, let yourself feel how you feel.

11. Octamom

    Our amazing 96 year old Grammy went home to the Lord in February–and I experienced the same emotion you detail here–this sense that her amazing, almost century long life was swept-up and moved out in a blink. It was disconcerting, upsetting and made me acutely aware of the passing of time and the generations that have proceeded us on this mortal coil…makes a girl think…and sometimes think a little too hard. I’m just now getting to where I can ignore the calendar again, as in, ignore how fast it is all going.

    We still miss our Gram, still have that moment of thinking we’re going to see her when we head back to our hometown, still have that flash of seeing something in the store and thinking, “I’m going to get that for Grammy for Christmas…oh.yea.” At first I felt a little silly–I mean, come on–she was 96 years old. But it is the realization that a long life, a life well-lived, still is only part of a continuous cycle. And then I get a little bit more of the meaning of Solomon’s Ecclesiastes…
    Blessings~

12. Aileen

    Catching up on my reader…speaking of which. I’m so sorry to read of your loss. I have no words of wisdom, only a prayer on your behalf. Feel fortunate that you can feel the loss that you do. Hopefully that doesn’t come off sounding the wrong way. Someone mattered in your life, and you in theirs. It’s what many long for — not the loss, but the mattering.

    And I think Elaine had wise words above. Spoken eloquently.

13. Kate @ Life As I Live It

    Meaningful? you ask. Well, without sounding like a crazy blog-stalker, the answer is yes. YES! Heather, in the year or so that I’ve been reading you, you truly have been an inspiration to me personally on so many levels. To be a better Christian, to be a more involved mom, to embrace all that life offers, to find grace in ungraceful situations. You are a gem Heather, someone who I think of often even when I’m OFF the computer. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but you have inspired me. So please don’t stop.

    Your world has been knocked off its axis and you’ve lost your equilibrium. It’ll take some time to get it back. And while it may not ever be exactly the same, you’ll find a new norm.

    I know it sounds cheesy but that old saying “it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” is true. Would you give up the years of love and memories with your grandpa to skip this pain? No, you wouldn’t. So just know that out of great love comes great pain - they are so intertwined - but the pain will recede and you’ll be left with the great love and memories.

    As lucky as you were to have your Grandpa, I think he was pretty lucky to have had you too.

    (((((Hugs))))

14. Ang

    Dear Mrs. Crabby,

    Being human sucks! It hurts to hurt and I feel for you in this time of pain. I lost my grandmother 12 years ago, and my father 2 years ago… many a day I wish I could buy one more day with either of them and then I remember one can’t buy time so I go visit or call my mom and my grandpa. I guess my point is “death is the horrible nudge to remind us to cherish those who are with us today.”

    Many hugs & blessings,
    ang.

15. Kate @ Life As I Live It

    P.S. In addition to being one of my favorite blogger, you also have the best readers (aside from myself, that is). I’m totally tearing up at work reading everyone’s comments.

    Totally restores another little piece of my faith in humanity.

16. Jody

    I’ve lost all my grandparents. My paternal grandfather passed away 15 years ago. There are still times when I stop and realize that I miss him so very much.

    And you know what? I think it’s a testament to the persons that they were, the love they shared, to still miss them to this day. I’m thankful he made so much of an impression on me that I still miss him 15 years later.

    The sharp sting of loneliness isn’t as intense, but I’d still love to feel his hug, listen to his stories, and eat the cheese-crackers he made for us every time we left to come back home. (Papaw, I miss you!)

17. darlene

    delurking to share the losses that have left a huge void in me … my granny who left us when i was pregnant with my first son; my sister who passed away 7 year ago; my grandpa four years ago and just over 2 years ago, i gave birth to beautiful identical twin sons, they were premature and they both passed away.

    i can tell you that it was all i could do to breathe and i literally lived from one moment to the next, one breathe to the next, feeling hollowed out inside as though i would never again feel whole, and i wondered if anything would really matter anymore. but bit by bit over time, the love that i feel for the person behind the loss spread into the love that i have for life and for those around me.

    i will always miss them, tears still spring and the ache inside makes its presence known but i also smile when i think of them as i make my way through my life. i almost think that i appreciate the emotion of living more than i used to and i value the compassion that lives more deeply inside of me.

    sending you warm thoughts, xo

18. karen

    The worst thing about grief, for me, is the feeling that I am alone with my burden of loss. I never really am, it’s just so easy to be consumed by the force of my grief that I can’t see outside myself to my family and friends who are there for me. When grief is shared, it is lessened. Gradually, you will find yourself a little less sad and a little more joyful. Your Grandpa has his reward! He is in Heaven with your Grandma and God! He knows the truth and it is good - he will love to share it with you when you’re done telling stories of him here on Earth.

19. Lisa

    I so wish I had a eloquent words to serve as a balm for your grief. Just know that I find that I’m thinking of you often, at odd times during the day, and know that a prayer follows swiftly behind.

20. OMSH

    Ladies…you touch my heart. Really. The kindness and the honesty and the personal testimonies - so humbling…so much wisdom.

    Thanks for the sharing and thank you sooo much for giving me time to work through this here and there.

21. Lois H

    I lost both of my grandparents (my Dad’s parents, my Mom’s parents died before I was born) when I was a teenager so it hurt but I don’t really remember.
    But, I lost my Dad 31 years ago this month, my brother 19 years ago, my husband 8 years ago and my Mom 2 years ago.
    Does it get easier,at times.
    Does it get better, at times.
    Does the hurt go away, at times.

    What do you do? You remember all the good times, you look at pictures, you cry, you laugh, you miss them, you talk to them, you write to them.

    You are in my thoughts and prayers and have been since you posted about your grandfather.

22. Lisa

    Death tends to make you take stock of your life, which I think is a valuable thing to do. How do you move on? By taking one moment at a time. Sometimes it’s hour to hour, other times it’s one breath to the other. You let yourself feeeeel your emotions instead of stuffing them otherwise they WILL come back to bite later. You will get through the grief..but it’s not called grief WORK for nothing. Hugs..

23. Lisa

    I just wanted to add that my toughest loss was the stillbirth of my baby eight years ago. I wasn’t sure I’d survive it, but by God’s grace and the love of His people…I made it through. That’s not to say that it isn’t still tough around my daughter’s birthday, but I’m not crippled any longer. :)

24. Kim

    Hugs Heather. I felt much the same after my Dad died. He was only 64 and was a good man. I remember wanting to slap some girls for LAUGHING in Target. Didn’t they know the world was missing a hero? I had a hard time grasping that my grief wasn’t universal and that life does go on - without skipping a beat. It was eye opening to me. Like a big hole that just swallowed up a a person while leaving everything else untouched. Time - and happy memories. Eventually they fill that hole and life returns to a new normal.

25. Jeri

    I lost my Mom two months ago today. Mom and Dad would’ve celebrated their 60th anniversary in November. I stayed with my Dad for a month ~ he’s just lost. When I returned home from the saddest time in my life, I expected/hoped to be inundated with calls from friends, offers to go for coffee, visitors, etc, so I could let my grief out. It didn’t happen. I’ve had to sit, pretty much alone for the last month. My husband and kids have moved on over time, and don’t want me talking about my own sadness. I have held it in, not succombing to emotions, but I need to let it out. It does come out from time to time when I am alone, looking at a picture, remembering a memory, trying to remember what her voice sounded like. Mom was my best friend, and it just makes me so sad not to have her with me.

    I started writing this to encourage you and tell you it will get better, but I guess it hasn’t gotten better for me, so I can’t tell you that yet. I feel let down by everyone, and I am alone. It is hard to see how life continues for everyone else, yet I am frozen in time, frozen at that moment when Dad’s phone rang at 1 a.m. and he and I drove to the hospital to see Mom one last time. I cherish those times with my Dad. It was he and I. At the hospital. At the mortuary. With the minister. Planning the service. Writing Mom’s biography for the minister. He and I in the most difficult moments in a person’s life. We cried together alot.

    Now I’m home. We still cry. Just not together.

    I started writing this for you, but I guess it ended up being for me. Thank you for letting me get a teaspoon of my grief out. God bless.

26. sherry

    That whole sensation of seeing the rest of the world carry on when you’re grieving is one of the worst. My grandmother - my last grandparent - passed away in 2006 five days before Christmas and it was so hard to be surrounded by joy and happiness when I wanted to scream, “don’t you know my grandmother is gone?!”

    But I had two kids who needed a good Christmas and I guess I did too because it WAS joyful, even if it was sad to find things in my stocking from my mother that I knew she had bought for hers.

    There’s no magic way. It’s one day at a time with the permission to let yourself slip back sometimes. It’s been almost two years, and writing about the stocking just now still made me cry. I still miss her so much. But one day at a time does make it easier and you end up smiling at the happy memories more than you spend crying.

    Love and prayers to you. It’s hard.

27. Dana

    You just do.

    You allow yourself to feel, because by feeling the pain, you realize that you have love. And, that love never goes away - it is part of you, who you are. And, because you have the knowledge that you will again see him, in those moments when the pain lightens enough so you can breathe, you think of when you will see him again. And, when the pain comes back, you rejoice that you loved someone enough that it can hurt.

    And, never move on… move with.

28. MidlifeSlices™

    Heather, you have to grieve. You need to grieve. It’s only been a few days and that’s not enough time for the healing process to really kick in. As much as I’ve lost, and as long as it’s been, I still miss my Grandparents, my Mother, my Nephew, my best friend. The world should have stopped for all of these people but it only stopped in tiny little space I occupy in this big old world. Be thankful you had someone so special to lose. Some people are never close enough to feel the depth of loss like you have. Like I have.

    The clouds will lift someday and you won’t even know it until you stop and realize you’re thinking about your Grandfather with a smile on your face instead of tears.

    He’s in God’s hands and he’s happy. You will be happy again too. Just give it time.

29. Claire in CA, USA

    I’m not sure what to say. I do know that you spoke of your grandfather’s abiding love for God and his family, and that we should all strive to love as well as we possibly can. When all is said and done, if they talk about how much I loved my God, and how I passed that to my kids and grandkids, it’ll be a good day…and I’ll be with my Father. Major SCORE!!! :-)

    Time is the only thing that heals. The tears will come less often, until the memories bring back a grin instead of a heart-wrench. And it’s different for everyone, time-wise. So, don’t judge yourself by anyone else.

    ((((Heather))))))))))

30. Annie Anderson

    Heather -

    The loss and the void will always be there. It doesn’t go away. But we learn to live with it, changed though we are. We learn to let go a little at a time.

    And one day, we suddenly realize it doesn’t quite hurt so bad. It’s still there - the pain, the anguish. Just a little less so.

    Do we ever stop missing them? Not a chance.

    Do we ever stop loving them? Never.

    Some things will still make me cry for my grandparents (both died in 2005), my dad (gone since 1999), my sister (who left us in 1997) and my niece (who went home in 1991). It’s those little things. The realization that Sherri would be 25 this year. The thought that I get to share Mother’s Day with my children or that my sister would be out fishing and camping in this beautiful summer weather.

    As someone above said, one day you wake up realize you haven’t cried for a while and the pain is still there but it isn’t crushing.

    Then some days you wake up and wonder if you can function. Those are the days you seek His grace.

    There’s often several stages - denial then anger and that may give way to guilt. At some point, it’s just empty sadness.

    Do what you’re doing - reach out. Take the hands of those around (whether real or virtual).

    Time does heal.

    Thoughts are with you.

    ~ Annie

31. Liz C.

    Couple things:

    One–this pain is something you share with your grandfather. In his life, he had to let someone go on ahead, too, and he would have had the same abrupt Stop as you. What you’re feeling–what we all feel when someone goes on ahead of us–is miserable. No question there. It is also a common thread in humanity. I think you get through by looking for God’s tender mercies. He’ll send them… more than we can count, and they’re always tailored just for us, to comfort our one soul, becuase He knows us completely, and knows just what tenderness we feel most.

    At 23, with an 18 month old daughter, I traveled home to grieve with the family of my best friend of 20 years, and to cry with her husband of 27 months, and to hug her little boy of 18 months. Trish was 9 months older than me, and our babies were three weeks apart. As the eldest, she did everything first… including dying. Her parents (my extra parents) asked me, a 23 year old kid, to write the obituary and eulogy.

    And that totally sucked.

    I did it anyhow. I have a copy of the eulogy, which my Daddy read at the very wonderful funeral. I still pull it out and read through it again. I still catch myself thinking, at odd moments, “I need to make sure to write Trish about this,” or “I’ve not talked to her for awhile… better call…”

    So nearly 11 years on, I’m still sorting out how to do things first, myself, without that best friend patterning it for me. But the fact that I think of her in the present tense is extremely comforting to me… it’s because my soul knows there is more, and she is not gone. She’s ahead of me. He’s ahead of you. It really is okay.

    One last thing, because I’m writing a whole novel here (sorry). My darling FIL died of heart failure while headed home from a visit to us, when our son was 4 months old. That’s nine years ago. Our oldest has the most vague memories of him, physically, but all of the kids KNOW him. You can ask the 3yo about Grandpa David, and she’ll chat away about “my” Grandpa. Family doesn’t have to be present, to be here.

32. mamalang

    I think what you do is meaningful…you connect people all over the world. But you need to give yourself the time to heal, and if that means you mark 400 posts as read in your blog reader, so be it. You know who you need to keep in touch with for you, and that’s what you need to focus on.And we’ll be here, listening and agreeing :)

33. jamie

    I just lost my Gramma about a month or two? ago. The time… it just keeps going. The same week we also lost our landlord who was like a father to us. Lived next door, had dinner with us, played with the kids…

    I will say this, for me anyway, the ache doesn’t go away. It may dull, but it’s still there. A little thing like sewing with my Gramma’s serger will make it ache more. But, I do think that the ache becomes good in a way… it becomes the memory. It becomes the good times. It becomes the thinking about your loved ones and truly being thankful for the time you had, and grateful that you will get to see them again one day.

    I’m not sure if my Gramma was a believer. But I am sure that my landlord was. The love of Christ shone through that man like no one else. I can’t wait to see him again, and frankly I’m a bit jealous that he’s in heaven and I’m not.

    You’re allowed to be crabby. Entitled. Cry. Be angry. The Lord has broad enough shoulders to take it.

34. Tiffany

    ((((hugs))))

    You just take one day at a time. I lost my Grandma in August 2002. She was the glue that held that part of the family together. We each feel her loss. Everyday is a little bit better. But, even now, 6 years later, something will trigger a memory, a feeling, something that was just totally her and you just sit down and cry. In her death, I have gotten much closer to my Grandpa..and I am every thankful for that. Time…it just takes time, and there is no table that states how long it will take for anyone.

    You matter! Keep on keeping on!

35. Aunt Betty

    Heather, it’s like Haley said, “It never stops hurting. It just hurts less often.” That is so very true. When my mom died I went through the numbness, the grief and then the anger that no one else in the world felt MY grief. They just couldn’t - - it didn’t affect their world the way it did mine. And now, with Grandpa Bugh, it hurts so bad, but I KNOW he’s in Heaven & that we will see him again with his new body that he longed for. Both he and my mom left behind a legacy that lives on. Just yesterday my brother’s girlfriend e-mailed asking for the recipe for a cake my mom used to make for him. He still remembers that - - and boy did I hate telling her it was mix! But at least she can duplicate what my mom did for him. We have so many stories and memories of Grandpa & he lives on in those memories.

    Does what YOU do matter? Absolutely!! You brighten the day for so many without even realizing it. Without you there would be a big hole in our world. Grieve for awhile, but do it in positive ways. You know he would want that. We love you!

36. Bonnie

    Dale and I were just talking about this… how the world just keeps on going! I mean can’t they just stop for awhile? Don’t they know how much it hurts to even breath? Why oh why? When my husband lost his Mom I was scared that I was going to lose him. He is doing better yet he says you just keep going;but the hurt well it still hurts.Anyway cling grasp squeeze to the LORD with all your might let him hold you be sure to tell him how you feel. Heather it’s our lose ; but grandpa’s gain!!!! Glory

37. Jeana

    Heather, I’ve been out of pocket so I just read about your Grandpa. I am SO sorry! I wish I had some answer for you, but time is the only thing I know of. I do think the way you’re feeling is normal. Losing someone so important makes you look around you and consider if you’re spending your life the way you really want to. You’re freshly aware of how short life really is and you don’t want to waste a minute of it.

    On an unrelated note…homeschooling? You homeschooling again this year? I missed that somewhere, but I hope it goes well for you.

38. Dawn

    I wish there was something better to tell you in the “after” department. I am 36 years old, and lost my Papa last April 28th. It’s been over a year since I saw MY “most amazing men on Earth” and I cried about it just yesterday. I can’t believe I have to live X amount of years without him.

    My prayers are with you every night.

39. lorimo

    I’ve so often wished I could move ahead with the void in my heart filled, but I think that if the void were filled in completely it would mean that I have forgotten. And forgetting my Dad and what a caring, wonderful man he was is something that I never want to forget, even it if leaves me feeling the void from time to time.

    My Dad died suddenly this March. I thought I would feel better by now, but sometimes it actually feels worse. I still want him to walk in the door and tell him that we were all mistaken and that we didn’t watch him die that morning in the hospital. I want him back. I don’t want to feel this big of loss in my life.

    I have tried to be strong for others and in doing so have held many of my emotions in. But I have decided that although there are times for being strong that it is important for me to acknowledge how I am feeling despite how much it may hurt. I have been told it is important to just feel the feelings that are there (that doesn’t mean that I have to accept them).

    It has been helpful for me to read what other have written here.

40. Brooke in WI

    I had a very, very near cousing to me killed in a head on crash two yrs ago with her 2 yr old daughter in the backseat surviving with hardly a scratch. How did I (and the rest of the family) get through it. An amazing amount of tears and as trite as this may sound. Getting up in the morning and going to bed at night. Just taking each day as it comes and talking to the family who knew her and knew what it liked to stand in the middle of the kitchen and sob. Two yrs later, it’s easier to tell myself that it didn’t matter where she was that night, it was her time to go and we couldn’t of done a thing to stop it. I say grab one of your kiddos and give them a tight hug.

41. Anissa@Hope4Peyton

    6 funerals this year. 4 of them were children under 9 y.o. I don’t know how to tell you to let go of the emptiness. I’ve felt so out of my realm of understanding that I don’t know if I can get back. I cry, I talk to the friends who’ve lost their children and I find a way to share what their loss was about.

    Sometimes when I feel my lowest is when someone will leave a comment and tell me that it touched them, or make them laugh or cry and it reminds me that the purpose I set for myself is what drives me.

    Don’t lose your purpose.

42. Lanna

    I cried and cried and cried some more after I lost my grandparents, one at a time. In a general sense, I kinda go about life trying to honor them. They all pretty much died when I was still in my self-centered college aged-state (in 1998, 2000, 2001 and 2002). So I never got to ask their advice about kids, things they did for their marriages, more stories about how they grew up, anything.

    All of my children have middle names honoring my grandparents. I turn more and more into my grandmothers each day - my hobbies and interests have taken a wacky turn towards theirs. My aspirations in life are similar to how they lived out their days.

    I still cry that they never got to meet their great-grandchilden of mine, I tell my kids a little bit about them here and there, and my mom, sister and I are always sharing stories about them. Family get-togethers with other aunts and uncles always include a few amusing/touching stories of the grandparents, so they’re never forgotten. Ever. I’ll still visit their graves if I can and have enough tissues in the car, but it’s not very often as the cemetaries are long drives from where I live. :(

43. Nancy

    I felt the same after my grandmother died. I was pissed off at the world for continuing on while one of the most important people in my life was gone. It’s been eight years and I still cry sometimes when I think of her. I have a ring of hers that I wear when I feel I need her with me and I always remind myself that she will always be around me. It will get better. What helped me most was having people around that understood my pain and let me mourn her loss.

44. MMM

    (You’re homeschooling again? When did this happen? What changed your mind about sending them to school?)

45. bethany actually

    Talk about your Grandpa as much as you want to. Speak about him with people who loved him as you do–Jeff, your mom and dad, your kids–and with people who never met him. Tell us your stories so we can appreciate what an amazing man he was and the huge influence he had on you. We’re here, ready to listen and laugh and cry with you.

46. SAJ

    just another hug on top of the many many many…

47. Danielle

    YOu should check out the blog audreycaroline.blogspot.com It is an amazing story written by a mother who recently suffered the loss of her newborn and how she deals from day to day. Truly moving!

48. Cindy

    I remember losing my Grandpa. I miss him a lot…my Gramma too. {{{HUGS}}} sent your way.

    Love the nailpolish job too, btw!

49. Kristi from NY

    Thinking of you again today… And wanting you to know that I enjoy coming here to read what you share. You set a mighty example of a good marriage, parenting and family life — yes, what you do is valuable but only you can determine what is best for you and those you love. Blessings!

50. NTE

    When my grandfather died 10 years ago, my family and I all attempted to drag ourselves to bed sometime after three on the morning of his funeral. Unable to sleep, knowing what was coming, I remember flipping on the tv and being astounded that the morning’s top headline wasn’t “Great man, loving grandfather, died in hospital” I just couldn’t believe that anybody in the world could care about anything else.

    As I’ve lost many other close family members since then, I can only say that I understand: the being angry, the being cranky, the wanting to know WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?, the feeling that I’m just taking up space & not really contributing, not doing ENOUGH: these are all so familiar to me that I wish I were next to you and could give you a hug.

    The hole that seems so gaping right now? Somehow, it mends itself, without you knowing. You make it through a minute, an hour, a day, without thinking “How am I going to live in this new world, the one where you aren’t here?” It still hurts. But you just live. It’s all you really ever can do.

51. marigold

    Just take life one day at a time. I hurt so badly after my aunt Marge passed away. I was sad, and angry and just upside down for a long time. But I had a good man beside me and a God who never left my side (or hers!)

    Some days, three years later, it still hits me and I tear up. But most days, I remember all the good things and am able to cherish the moments we had without sorrow for the moments we’ll never have.

52. falwyn

    I have no advice, only the assurance that you’re not the only one. For me it was just over two months ago, and it was “just” (that sounds awful) my 15 year old step-sister-in-law, and I still feel (and act, to some extent) lost. Thinking of you, sending you prayers and love.