Grief Tsunami

I have been hit by a grief tsunami. My nana has gone to heaven. I miss her so much it hurts! I miss her hugs, her listening ear, her godly wisdom, and her prayers. 

At the graveside, I look at her faithful husband and grief touches grief, the heart feels slashed and blood from new wounds mingle with old ones. Sacred scars are toren gastly wide open and my heart screams silently once again. The familiar hollow feeling in my chest engulfs me in searing pain and I can't breathe.  

The wind feels like it is whistling right through me and try as I might, I can't stop the backflashes. Images of twisted and toren metal reflected my heart ripped in half and shattering into billions of pieces. And I can't breathe.

Feeling like I am going to vomit, I briskly walk away from family. I want to run, but the pain is trapped within. I walk till I feel like I am at the ends of the earth. Everything within is ready to collapse to the ground and let the grief wail escape my chest. I beg the Lord to keep me standing, to keep me silent. I shake like I am in a chilling rainstorm, but it is only tearsdrops that flow steadily down my cheeks. And I. Can't. Breathe.

Time stops. Pain blinds the mind and turns the body to stone. Must force myself to breathe. In....out.....in...out. I hear footsteps. A son puts an arm around me. Another proclaims, "You are really rattled. This all taking you back?" There is no words to describe how grief bleeds and mingles together, so I agree. They walk away and emptiness swirls around me again. Time is frozen. For eternity, I stand and feel like I am cold and dying.

Finally I turn around and walk back. Others approach to give hugs. I wave them away. I can't breathe. One hug, just one and they will need an ambulance... or a hearse. My heart pounds in my hollow chest. They are waiting for me. To speak. To get in the vehicle. Yet... I must go say goodbye. I silently and roboticly draw near to the grave. The casket is sealed in the vault and lies low in the earth. I feel cold and entombed myself. I breathe in sharply and toss in my rose. I quickly turn as my breath is sucked out of me again; I feel like I am being buried alive. I gasp for air hiding behind the vehicle using it to keep me from falling to the ground. Staccato-like I suck in oxygen. A grief wail almost surfaces. Please, Lord, no! They are waiting for me. 

I force myself to go. I crawl onto the seat & curl up tight. Deep concern fills the vehicle as my sons observe grief with its choke hold on me. I have no strength to pretend I am okay. All my focus is on the next breath. 

I silently cry out to my Healer. My desperate screams reach His ears and touches HIS heart. And HE holds me in the old familiar way & I know I will be okay. HIS peace will come. HIS comfort will give strength. HE will heal and HE will redeem. 

For now, I force myself to breathe. And try to take the next breath deeper than than the last. And I rest in the shelter of HIS tender love.