Thursday, March 24, 2011

Ninety Days

Three months. Ninety days.


Those are not an equal equation.


Ultimately, this whole journey is about one day at a time. One morning. One meal. One cup of coffee. One bedtime routine. One hour at a time. One more day completed.


It's about doing it again, starting over tomorrow.


Ninety times, so far.


Some days have felt endless, a gray cloud following me. Icy snow in my yard and in my spirit.


Some days have brought sunshine, unexpected rays that fell upon my face, my hair, my mind.


But as one day streamed into the next, somehow one month passed. And then two. And now three.


Ninety days passed slowly; three months escaped too fast.


How is it nearly April? Three months of life without Robb here. That's just a really long time, and since I don't know the mind or the timing of Christ, I can assume that these three months were only a drop in the bucket of how long I will do this without him.


I see signs of healing; my heart sings more often, and the days of despair no longer come in sequence. I cry less than I once did, but I am learning that this is sometimes because I have run dry. Sometimes I wish for the cleansing of tears, for the relief of a good cry.


It's strange to put myself to bed and think, "Wow. I didn't cry today," hand in hand with, "Man, I wish I had."


It's really one big dichotomy.


I feel oddly torn between wanting to fast forward to a safer, cleaner, sorted place where things make sense, and the alternate desire of wanting everything to slow down.


My mind can't recall his laugh as easily. I fear time will take it away.


Tyler turns four in a month. I have always loved birthdays, particularly my children's, but part of me wants him to stay three. He was three when Robb was here. I don't really want him to get older without his daddy here to watch.


Three months... too fast. I never wanted to say goodbye. And now goodbye seems further and further behind, drifting into 2010 now that one-fourth of 2011 has marched on, whether my heart kept up or not.


Ninety days have passed slowly; three months escaped too fast.

7 comments:

my3boys said...

My heart still breaks for your journey, but I'm blessed because you have shared it. I never knew that I could have more faith in God through another's grief. May God continue to heal your heart and the hearts of all who loved Robb.

Mrs. MK said...

Just yesterday I was thinking about the passage of time, and how it doesn't slow for the hard times any more than it does for the good.

Praying for your peace as you walk through another day.

Graced! said...

Many more comments would populate your posts if I, (and probably others like me), would trust typing with tears stinging my eyes. More feedback would litter your blog if only I were braver and knew that you would receive what I type in the exact way I intended. Instead, I ask our Father to share these wishes and requests with you in just the right way and in just the right time. It's all in the timing.

Please know that we in cyber-land have not forgotten you.

I am still praying peace, comfort and creativity for you. <3

winstead family said...

i lost my mom slightly over a year ago to cancer. she had a pretty rapid decline and only lived 12 weeks past her diagnosis. i had a newborn at the time of her death and i have to agree with you on all of these points. i know a mom is not a spouse, but she was my best friend (aside from my spouse) and it seems that after the first year the heartwrenching pain subsided a little bit, because for that first year, everything was thought of in numbers, in firsts, lasts, etc. now it seems as if i get really upset when seasons change. time is marching on and she's no longer here. that is still hard to grasp. i do think of you often even though i don't know you. (i found your blog through theglenngang) and want you to know i have been praying for you and your boys. you are such a strong woman.

The Leivas said...

Still here, still reading, still praying for you Tricia!

Noel said...

Yes, "the days are long but the years are short." That's what I'm told. I remember the first day I didn't cry, feeling a strange mixture of proud of myself and like I had betrayed my husband. Hang in there, sweetie. You are often on my mind and though we are strangers, I pray for you often. Love.

darcie said...

Thinking of you...you write so elegantly, even through the intense emotions you are surely feeling. Thank you for sharing your words, your thoughts...xoxo