Today is November 6. Tomorrow it will be six months since Anna died from her bicycle accident. Tomorrow I will post my first journal entry that I wrote after the accident. I have been hesitant to post it up to now. I wasn’t sure if it was necessary, but on reflection I think it might be helpful for those of you who do not know some of the details surrounding her death. Please read it if you would like. Feel free to pass it up if you do not care to know about it. No problem here.
I am also preparing a longer post discussing some issues related to the resurrection of believers. I originally planned to include it in this post, but because it began to grow long I thought it deserved its own post. I will try to have that ready for you tomorrow as well.
Yesterday was a particularly difficult day. The really hard days seem to be getting less common. When they come, however, they come with a vengeance. Immediately after Anna’s death we were told that grief comes like waves over you. No. I have spent a good deal of time in the ocean. I like waves. They lift you up and set you down. You can play in them. If you are not careful they can sometimes be dangerous. No. The grief has stopped coming like waves. When it comes now it is more a punch to the stomach. There is an almost physical pain inside that does not go away.
Anyway, yesterday morning Timberley found me in the kitchen pretty messed up. I was still functioning, getting coffee, making breakfast, whatever it was, but let me just say that everything was pretty wet. I have no idea what spurred this, but in the middle of whatever it was I was doing, I had a sudden and extremely clear memory of Timberley’s phone call to me when she called to say that Anna was dead. I could hear every word on the other end, but more than that I could hear the screams of anguish coming over the phone. I could hear every sob in her voice as she screamed out those words to me. For just a moment in the kitchen I was transported back to my car in Central Java where I was when I received the phone call.
I am getting better now at controlling my thoughts, especially when I am in public, so that I can choose the times when I mourn and when I cry. That didn’t happen yesterday. If this one was a wave it was like a tsunami. All I could do was hang on for the ride. But hang on I did. And soon the tsunami passed. Life moves on. But then, it doesn’t. Maybe they were right when they said that grief comes like a wave. It just happens to be a really nasty wave.
“The ache I feel inside is where the light has left your eyes. I’m alone for our last goodbye, but you’re free.”