I'm looking forward to this weekend and the predicted weather of 50 degrees. It will only be about the 4th time in 3 months that the weather has warmed up this month. At least it's not been as bad as the weeks on end of 20-30 degree weather that we had in December and January. It has been a long winter...
I've been reading a fabulous book given to me by a fabulous friend. The current chapter is about the "seasons" of grief. Boy, oh boy, has the author got it right about "winter." He compares the first season to fall, then the deep down depths of grief to winter. I had no idea how long my winter would last, and these 3 months of winter seem like nothing to the year of winter I've endured. And just like this winter, just when the weather warms up for a day, it gets cold all over again for a week or more.
There was something that rang so true for me, though... the concept of "acceptance." Of course we all know the stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, deparession, and acceptance (I think that's the order... I think my bargaining came before my anger, so I'm always confused). But my concept of acceptance was a little skewed. This has always been a problem for me. When I was 16 I went to a counselor with my parents, arms folded, stating "I know that Chris (my brother-in-law) is in Heaven. I've accepted it." I wonder if that counselor ever told my parents that I wasn't in denial of Chris' death, but of my own grief. It would have saved me a lot of therapy and medication in college. So, I have been struggling with what it is to "accept" the death of my daughters. I mean, there's no denying it... I have 3 kids, only one of whom is living. I have no babies to hold, feed, kiss, and play with. There is no way around "accepting" that two of my children are gone. What I have realized is that the loss of my girls is not what I have to accept. I have to accept (seriously, how many times have I used that word in this paragraph?) is that I am forever a changed person - a "bereaved parent." I will always be bereaved, and that is what I have to accept. That my life will never, should never, and can never be the same. As other authors have put it, this is my "new normal."
I think the toughest part of acceptance will be to truly let go of the anger. It is just so unfair... in a single school year I will have taught 3 pregnant/new mom students. I just found out about the third one today. The sick feeling didn't leave my stomach the entire day. There's no way around it, it is messed up. To think of these healthy babies being born to single teenage mothers, and here I am, a college-educated, married, church-going, teacher, mother of a child who needs a sibling, and my babies die. I know life isn't fair, but does it have to be so grossly unfair? See what I mean about my anger?
Another part of acceptance is just accepting that I will not understand everything. And even though there are some things I do understand, that will never outweigh my maternal desire to simply have my children alive and well with me. I am still human, after all. While I am well aware that God has used my girls as a way to show me His path for me, I wouldn't have minded being shown down a path that didn't include quite as much raw pain. The only thing I can figure is that what He has in store for me is huge, because nothing small could justify such a loss.
I wonder how much longer this winter will last.
In memory of my precious daughters, Abigail and Bethany
