Grieving Thoughts One Month Later

I've replaced my blog background with one that is filled with my mother's favorite colors. I love it. What do you think?

Today marks one month since my mother passed away. Last night as I climbed out of my car and peered at the starlit night sky, I thought about that early morning when she died. The stars were beautiful, just like they were last night. A starry night will always remind me of my mama.

I have been doing the silliest things over the last month. After Mom died, I began to talk to her in my head or out loud. All rational thought tells me that she can't hear me, and, yet, I do it. I talk to Dad too. I don't know if there's a party line in heaven for things like this. Truthfully, I don't know if I even want them to hear some of the things I'm saying to them. This grieving process that I'm going through isn't pretty. This is the hardest thing I've ever muddled through. I keep thinking that losing two parents at once just isn't supposed to happen. I feel like a little girl who has lost her way. I don't think I realized while they were living how much I really depended on them for things like advice, encouragement, belief in my abilities, and long random conversations about whatever came to mind. I mean, I treasured them, and I let them know that. I think I did, at least. Even so, I think I really didn't realize how deep our relationships ran. I am so very grateful for that.

I haven't heard my mama's sweet voice for a month. I haven't seen that half-humored, half-completely supportive look she got on her face when I detailed one of my crazy, over-analyzed, thought processes to her. I have heard her in my head reminding me not to plan so much, to take it easy, to enjoy life more and do less. Yeah. For those things, I really needed my mama's voice. I'm glad to hear that in my head. Right now in this season of grief, I need to cling to that. Slowing down is what we need to do sometimes;although, this Christmas tree staring me in the face across the room has to go sometime before it drives me batty. It's the middle of January, right?

I never imagined that daily tasks could be so hard to accomplish. Even eating feels like a chore right now. I looked over some books at our local Christian bookstore, but none of them seemed to be the right fit for what I need right now. The running theme seemed to be, "Give yourself permission to grieve." Okay. 

Permission granted.

What great books on the grieving process have you read? I'm taking any and all recommendations. Right now, I find myself clinging to the Lord while dreading my quiet time each day at the same time. I realize this makes no sense, but it is what it is. I might say that too much lately. "It is what it is." Yes, it is. 

Here's the thing, I want to cry sometimes because I feel the Lord healing my soul as the tears run down my cheeks, but, sometimes, I don't, and those are the times when I don't want to focus on my quiet time because it seems like I cry every single day during my quiet time. I need Jesus right now, and I know He knows what I need, so, if I need to cry, I guess that's what I'm going to do. Apparently, I'm going to do so every single day when I spend time with Him. 

Oy.

I hope that someone out there is helped a little by reading these posts, whether frequent or few I can't promise. I hope that I am helped by it also. 

What I learned from book jackets and introductions is this...No one defines my grieving process. 

What I learned from editing this post? Cohesive thought is a little bit harder than normal right now. I should end this post now. This post...really needs someone to offer it some TLC.