Thursday, August 26, 2010

I've been thinking lately how lovely it would be if we could exchange e-mails with our loved ones who are in heaven....and not just those who actually used e-mail on earth, but our grandparents who never even heard of e-mail, much less used it. But I guess there would have to be a cutoff point, or life would be too easy. If we could e-mail Bible heroes and ask them how to handle the things in our lives today, wouldn't that be wild?

From: Karen Huber
Subject: When will my house sell?
Date: August 26, 2010 10:31:38 AM CDT
To: Peter

Hey, Peter, I've been talking to your boss about my house, but don't want to bother Him today, as He's got so much going on that's way more important than my house. I just wondered if, at lunch or Happy Hour (I guess they're really all Happy Hours where you are), you can put in a word to the Man and see what He says. I appreciate your help.


OR, we could skip the e-mails and just talk on Facebook...

Karen Huber > Peter Walk on Water Hey Peter, what's happening? Nice profile pic! Can you let me know when my house is going to sell? Thanks bro!

I guess those guys wouldn't have any trouble maxing out the number of friends pretty quickly, would they?

Anyway, I digress. I started this posting because there have been several times when I thought "I need to call Randy and tell him about this." Then, it hits me that I can't call him. I realize that getting good cell service all the way to heaven could be hellish (sorry), so I decided a good alternative would be e-mail. I know this could be fraught with problems, as some of us would never pull our eyes away from our Macs or Droids or iPhones again. So, there would probably have to be limits on the number and length of e-mails sent and received through the heavenly gateway - for our benefit and their protection. And of course, those people in Hell would always be trying to spam their Heavenly counterparts, so someone would have to work full-time on spam and virus protection, meaning they'd miss some of the Happy Hours each day, then that starts to sound like corporate America, which, believe me, is NOT how I picture Heaven!

I digressed again. I think my focus cells are taking a long summer's nap. More than a year after Randy's death, it really surprises me when I think about telling him something like he's still here on earth with me. Sometimes it makes me sad when the reality checks in and sometimes, it almost makes me laugh! I am grateful for the latter, because I believe it is a sign of healing from the grief. I know I can't rush this, but I so want to be at the point where I can remember, smile and be grateful for sharing his life. When that doesn't happen or when it is followed by the feeling of a big poke in my gut that takes my breath away for a few minutes, then I know I'm not fully over the grief. Not that there really is such a thing as being fully over it, from what those who have gone through it tell me. I suppose it's just a matter of there being fewer and fewer pokes in the gut, which is definitely already starting to happen.

As i refer to grief being a poke in the gut, I think of all the reading on grief I've done in the past year - from CS Lewis to George Bonanno to Pat Schweibert to Joan Didion, I don't recall if anybody said it that simply. Believe me, they said it well - there are so many good books available, for which I am very thankful. When you read something that resonates with how you are feeling, it's like you know you haven't completely lost it and there is hope for your future. But when it's all said and done, I can't think of any better way to describe it than as the poke in the gut. Sometimes, usually early after the loss, the poke nearly takes you down and sometimes it just makes you take a deep breath to make sure you can still breathe. Of course, it doesn't always end there - it depends on your situation and mood and mindset at the time. Sometimes it passes peacefully and other times you end up in a complete melt down. And, for some strange reason, the latter always happens when you least expect it. A friend calls it "the sneakies." Something simple can set you off (such as a For Sale sign going up in front of your house when you decided to sell and knew it was coming). Of course, you survive all of these events - sometimes with the help of a friend, sometimes by petting the dog, sometimes by crying out to God, or sometimes, by all three.

No comments:

Post a Comment