Grieving the Loss, Sunshine After the Storm: Collecting Things

As soon as we moved to George's home, I began looking for and collecting anything that George may have used or anything that may have been one of the last things he touched. I was desperate to hold on to him. I needed to keep him with me. If you read one of my earlier posts, "Dig In and Fight," this is exactly what I was doing. I wasn't about to let my boy go.

I already had a few things in my collection, the sunglasses he had been wearing the day of the accident, and one of the brake handles from the bike, both of which we found at the accident scene. I knew that brake handle was one of the last things he had touched before he died. I have a cap that he liked to wear. He had left it at a friends house and they returned it to me. And I could still catch a faint scent of him from it. For some reason having those things were very important to me and still are. I have them tucked away in a safe place, and sometimes, just sometimes, when I am feeling emotionally strong enough I take them out and touch them and look at them and remember.

I've already shared with you how he loved the outdoors. He loved hunting, fishing, just being outdoors made him happy. So as we began to clear out some of the land we would sometimes find an empty shell casing, and even a broken arrow. Those are in an old milk bottle sitting on my kitchen cabinet and most days I look at them, and remember.

And when the deer come into the yard in the evening, or when I take a ride on the four-wheeler through the woods he loved, when I hear the birds singing as the sun is setting, as I see the lightening bugs blinking in the dusk, I remember.

I remember the 9 lb., 5 oz., baby boy that was so beautiful, the energetic little league baseball player, the boy who loved to follow his Pa around, the teenager that loved football, the young man who lit up the whole room just by walking in.

I don't understand much of the psychology behind the grieving process. I don't know why we do some of the things we do. I don't know why it was so important for me to have my collection of things, or why it still is. I'm not sure if it is an act of desperation, trying hard to hold on, to keep him from slipping away from me, or if it is instead something that brings me comfort. Perhaps it is both.

Today has been a little more difficult for some reason, I'm really missing George today. Maybe today has been difficult for you as well. David said in Psalm 30:5b (NIV) "...weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning." Joy will come in time and there will be

Sunshine After the Storm

Blessings Friends!

Betsy