Denial.
Anger.
Bargaining.
Depression.
Acceptance.
I think I am chugging along pretty nicely at acceptance now. I still miss her. I think about her. I remember with smiles.
The thing is - - I didn't just lose her. I lost a few other relationships along the way. Shannon was my "glue" to that group. The common denominator, if you will. Remove the common denominator and what do you have? You either work like crazy to find a new commonality with your group. Or, you let it go. If in the first few days that followed her death you told me that my own days as a "Banana" would soon be over, I wouldn't have believed you. But here we are, six months later, and it seems to be over.
I miss her. I miss her snark. I miss her advice. I miss her funny stories. I miss spending time at her house scrapbooking. As storm season approaches, I'm going to miss her phone calls and texts making sure that I'm okay.
She is physically gone from this earth. I can't physically see her. I can't have a conversation with her. She's gone. I have to accept that the memory of her will live on inside of me. I accept that. I am willing to let go now. The tragedy of it all does not define who I am. If anything, I feel stronger and have a more clear sense of direction now.
I know it's kind of cheesy, but a plant started this thought process with me. On Sunday, I noticed that the plant I got from Shannon's service was dying I worked and worked on it. It couldn't be saved. I had apparently over-watered it about a week ago and root rot had set in. It was dying from its foundation on towards the leaves. It was gone. I took a nice, deep breath and I threw it in the trash. Kind of symbolic for letting go, I guess. Then I noticed another ivy I have. It was one from my grandfather's funeral several years ago. I did the right things with it. I re-potted it, thinned it out and have taken good care of it. It's finally growing back in quite nicely. I went to move it from the island in the kitchen to the spot behind the sink where Shannon's flower was. That's when I noticed this:
New life. Change. Reaffirmation that moving on is okay. I am okay. Wow. I said it. I. Am. Okay. I will get to see Shannon in Heaven again someday. And if God has a sense of humor, Shannon will be waiting there for me with some Tim Holtz scissors in hand and a crop table ready where we can leave our supplies out all the time. But I will see her again. This isn't the end. This is - - see you later my friend.
Inspired me, she always did. She was my Yoda.
9 comments:
My eyes are stinging. Tears are starting to flow out. This blog entry is beautiful Becky. Wonderful analogy and inspiring hope in knowing you will see her again and life must go on. You trim away the old for new beginnings. You are strong and thank you for sharing the story of struggle and now a fresh perspective. I love you Becky.
Wow! What a powerful entry!
I'm so sorry that your struggling with the loss of your friend. It took me forever to get to a point where I could think about my mom without my breath being taken away. It hurts, no doubt about it. Sending you a big {{HUG}}
You know what - - I am doing amazingly well. It's like I crossed the hump and I realized that I am really okay. I think I internalized a lot of the grief. I dealt with it in my own way.
I accept that things are what they are.
I remember with tears of laughter now. And smiles. And knowing that the decisions I've made about moving on are okay.
Becky, that was beautiful. (You should really consider turning that into a full-blown article about grief - so poignant).
Ironically, two days ago, I was brainstorming a scene in which my character (who lost her mother years before) notices her mother's plant starting to wither and die - and how I was going to use that as a metaphor for my character moving on (not forgetting her mother, but accepting the loss). You've just confirmed that it would make a powerful part of my story.
I miss Shannon, too. And I pray for her boys, for her family. And I'm SO GLAD for the chance to meet her in person one day, in heaven! You know, Christians can accept tragedy quite well, because we know it's not over. We know we'll see our friend/loved one again, for eternity. Doesn't mean we grieve any less than anyone else. But there's hope there, in the center of it. Thanks for the reminder of that! ((((((hugs)))))
I'm really glad that I met you through her. :)
Such a beautiful post- thank you for sharing your thoughts and your heart with us here. I am reading an amazing book right now called One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp and I think you would love it. It is about taking time to notice all of the little gifts God gives us each day...I think the new life on that ivy was a small gift from Him to you.
Btw, I saw Mr. B at Target yesterday...I think he might have thought I was a crazy blog stalker lady:)
I should read that book, Johnna. It sounds good. I asked Mr. B about seeing you. He said he did. Men don't ever think to mention these things to us.
I know Ashley, right? Yay Shannon!!!
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