Back to the grave

I know that the above title sounds a bit morbid so, let me explain what I mean.

Last Thursday, I did something that I hadn't done since January of this year. I went back to visit Donovan's grave.

Up to January, I had gone to his grave just to talk (even though I knew good and well that he can't hear me) but, it helped me vent my anger and frustrations at him for leaving me with a newborn son and a 5 yr old daughter. Most of the time, I'd go on the 21st of each month (and more often shortly after the funeral because it still didn't seem real to me). After J was born in Feb. I went less and less often (expect for the two times that R wanted to see where Daddy was buried - she hasn't asked to go back since). Now, she hang on to his memory by music.

He worked 2nd shift at AT&T as a tech so he'd get home around 10:30 and R got to the point that she didn't want to go to bed without saying night-night to him (and of course listening to his records). Some nights, it was a simple hug, kiss and then she was ready to go to sleep. Other nights, we'd listen to records and she'd pick out the records she liked (Beatles, Elvis, The Blue Danube (and this HAD to be listened to over and over again), and he would try to introduce her to some different kinds of music - some she liked and they would dance to it - some she didn't like and she would promptly go get one that she liked and insist that he play that one. :) Comical to watch! He taught her how to run a bow across a violin, how to strum a guitar, and how to "try" and blow in a trumpet. The first two things just mentioned, R taught J when he was old enough to walk. The trumpet... I'll save for later.

*grinning* Ok... back to get on track... Sorry about that... ANYWHO! This year (in Jan), I decided to go ahead and let him go (or more appropriately, allow myself to let him go). I went to his grave and told him that he would always have a special place for me and the children but that I knew I had to move on with my life in order to be the kind of mom that I needed to be for the kids (and for myself). I took of my wedding ring and told him goodbye. After that, I felt a burden being lifted off and realized that (for about a year) I had been holding myself back from really living for me and for the children. There comes a point in time that you realize that you just have to let go of fear, grief, doubt, anxiety, and (the list could go on) moving on with life as God would want you to. Sadly, some people never try to get to that point and are left with regrets, bitterness, and depression. God gave us life (and His Son) for a reason. So why waste it?

*grinning* Sorry, social worker soap box... Feet back on the ground, re focused. This last Thursday, I went back to his grave just to tell him how much the kids have grown and matured and how proud he would have been. I told him about the estate sale at the old house and that it was finally time to write the final chapter and get closure.

Life is about living and serving God to the best of our ability and not living life (emotionally or even physically) at a grave. The grave is only temporary. Like Jesus, we are to remember the sacrifice (and learn from the life) but rejoice even more in his resurrection.

More to follow....