I burnt my mouth today. Bad. And now I'm sitting here eating diner and realizing how much it hurts. It is one of those injuries that if you leave it alone, you can't really tell it is there. But I don't. Leave it alone, that is. I keep touching it with my tongue and thinking "Ooh, that hurts", touch it again and think "Yep, still hurts" and then touch it one more time just to remind myself, I guess.
That is what my grielf process has been lately. I keep doing things that remind me I hurt. "If I'm tired, I cry so much easier SO let's stay up past midnight several nights in a row watching horrible TV to get good and fatigued." "If I have a dirty house, I feel like a loser SO let's fire the house cleaner and let the dishes stack up." "Eating poorly makes me feel icky SO let's see if I can eat three meals a day at Quick Trip." "Being alone in my mind makes me feel lonely and abandoned SO let's not answer the phone and literally walk away from friends when they try to talk." Touch the burn! Touch the burn! Touch the burn!
Not only am I actively doing things to assure myself of sadness and misery, I'm not even doing the things that bring comfort. "Being close the Lord brings me peace and comfort SO let's stop praying and reading scriptures." WHAT IS THAT?
Madness is what it is.
OK, so my mouth is burned. But I know it will heal. In fact, I bet tomorrow morning, it will be mostly better.
I think that is what I've lost track of in my grief. The assurance that tomorrow will be better. Or maybe it is even worse than that. Maybe I know tomorrow the burn will be better and I'm aftaid of what "better" will bring.
Dang, that's it.
I want to be burnt.
Pain associated with his loss shows how much I love him. And if the burn gets better what happens to this honoring him with my grief?
Holy cow, I'm crazy!
Glad I got that figured out.
But I hear him say "OK, but what are you going to do about it?" Leonard always ALWAYS had an action plan for change, especially when we determined something to be amiss in our family.
I can't keep touching the burn. I can't honor him with my grief. I have to choose my memorial to our love to be something else.
I will honor him with my joy. BOY THAT is GOOD! (Sometimes these thoughts come out of my fingers so fast that this is the first time for me to read these words too!)
I will honor him with my peace by being close to my Father in Heaven.
I will honor him with accomplishment by doing those household tasks that make me feel productive.
I will honor him by taking care of my physical body so I'm not battling unnecessary complications to my grief.
I will honor him with joy by letting myself heal.
I will stop touching the burn.
