Mom was pretty lonely after Dad died ten years ago, so after a while, we started a routine of calling her every Sunday evening at 8:00. She was usually sitting by the phone, waiting for that call.
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How do I begin to describe the past ten days? When you lose a loved one, everything about your normal life stops, even as the rest of the world keeps spinning around you.
On Thursday, April 10, my dear mother-in-law, Joyce, went to be with Jesus.
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It was mid-December. We were all waiting. But we weren't waiting like the rest of the world.
In homes, they waited for Christmas. Young children counted the days with their advent chains and calendars, anticipating that wonderful morning when they would tear the paper, fling the boxes, and see their wishes come true.
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As I walk through the few remaining rows of Christmas trees, I attempt to sort out my feelings. Growing up, there were hundreds of acres of trees. These few are all that remain. I should feel something, I tell myself. While a little part of me wants to cry, the emotion that’s bubbling up instead is joy.
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Looking back, I can see that the adjustment to an empty nest happened in three stages. For me, each one was a necessary part of the process. The first two stages were a matter of survival, while the third one helped me thrive.
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It struck me how closely joy and grief resided in my heart. I’m not sure why it surprised me, as those two emotions have been playing tug-o’-war in human hearts for as long as human hearts have had feelings. And the battle continues.
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Even though the tears have mostly dried up, at times the sadness envelops me and I feel that dull ache of emptiness. I often remember the mountaintop days of February 2020, and I’m astounded at how much I took for granted.
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