I've posted 40 entries to this blog....this being 41. Forty is a significant number in the Bible....the number of days Jesus spent in the desert being tempted by Satan; the number of years the Israelites had to wander in the desert b/c they disobeyed God. There's probably a reason why this number is constantly used, and I probably learned it in my World Religions class as an undergrad, and I probably forgot it. But since the number 40 is apparently important, there must be something special about having composed 40 blog entries. If it's 40 days of suffering at the hands of the devil then I'd like it to stop now b/c I'm there, and I just want everything back the way it was. If it's 40 years then I'll be 86, and on death's door myself and about to see Mom again.
What have I learned in 40 days of writing about death, dying, and grieving? Some days seem somewhat normal. Some days all I want to do is cry. Some days everything clicks, and I get so much accomplished. Some days I wander in a fog. I've learned that I have many, many caring and loving friends and family. I've learned that some people treat me like a pariah b/c they don't know what to say or how to act around me. I know that death is permanent. I know that I wish Mom was here right now. I understand that when others talk about their mothers, I can't become sullen and silent just b/c I know I can't share anything w/o tears. I understand that others have lost their mothers and fathers and are now at a place where they can recall them w/o breaking down. I believe that life goes on, and I'll survive. I believe every day for a very long time will be a constant struggle.
No comments:
Post a Comment