I miss my little sister. We're coming up on 8 years since she died and there's not a day that I don't wish she was still here to fight with. She really was my best friend.
I was worried I would never write again after she died. I lost all my words. I actually said that to a friend of mine recently and her response really hit me hard, in a good way.
"But the words are still there. They're just buried in grief."
I am so thankful for friends that speak healing truth into our lives. Thank you, Lily.
So, I did something today I haven't done in a really long time. I read through a plethora of posts that I wrote for Kelly when she was still alive. I missed her but I also laughed. Outloud. I forgot how funny I think I am. Yeah, I want to find that chick again. She's hilarious. I need her in my life.
2 comments:
Yes! You always used those words to express your grief--your expected grief, future grief. It's how you verbalize the deep groaning of your soul. And then the ugly grief hit anyway. You hadn't eased into it. Dipping your toes into the shallow ripples didn't prepare you for being thrust headfirst into the abyss. Your groaning drowned out the sound of your words. But the words didn't stop. You just need to listen harder.
My kids were used to swimming in eight-foot-deep water. Then we went to Cumberland lake where the water was ten times as deep. It scared them. I asked them why did it make any difference how much was under them as long as their heads were still above the surface? We're all treading water. Don't be afraid.
Wisdom
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