Valentine's Day is almost here. Instead of sharing cute ideas for how to celebrate with your husband, wife, boyfriend, girlfriend, children or friends, I want to talk about healing. Valentine's Day is often hard for people with broken hearts.
On October 14, 2014, my Daddy, the first man I ever loved, committed suicide in a car, in the driveway of my parent's property, in Northern Virginia. This Valentine's Day will mark precisely one year and four months since this horrific event.
I have both grieved this event AND moved on with my life simultaneously since the moment I received this mind bending, heart stopping news. Numbness and frozen shock, along with tears and heartfelt emotion were all present within the first 24 hours. Thus began a partial grief/healing process that would gently carry me through a pregnancy and the first months after her birth. On the surface, the symptoms of my grief were mild compared to the grief symptoms of other family members. I didn't have enough emotional or physical energy for an intense, emotional surgery of the heart. I was scheduled for physical surgery on October 15th, (the next day) to prepare my body for pregnancy. I didn't postpone the surgery, determined the circle of life was not going to be paused because of my father's death.
In reality, my grief experience did not begin on October 14, 2014. This day was simply the biggest element in a larger story of suffering which began roughly 27 years ago, when I was about 10 years old, as I watched my Daddy's life deteriorate before my eyes; bit, by bit, by bit. I was already accustomed to ignoring this pain to focus on the happy things of life. It was not hard to continue on a larger scale.
Regardless of when my grief began, it is not yet complete. December 14th, 2015, two months ago, marked a new chapter in my evolution of grief. My body and mind decided it was finally time to give closer attention to this broken portion of my heart. A heart partially numb, partially paralyzed, partially dead.
My heart is, and was, full of the joy of my husband and children. But I cannot counsel my children during their future griefs if I continue to ignore my own pain. I cannot speak truthfully with friends and family when they seek my perspective on grief if I have not walked my road with honesty.
My heart is healing and slowly beating again. Will there ever come a time when I can say I am fully healed? Maybe. Maybe not. There are many opinions. For now, I can say I am in love with my Creator.
This year I've seen more symbols of the heart all around me in nature, more than I ever noticed before. I try to capture it with my camera when I see it...
The Prince of Peace has loved me unlike anyone could ever love me. He drew heart shapes in creation for me to discover. He GAVE me the breath of life when I stopped breathing and brushed death, mere moments after birth in 1978. He GAVE me the Daddy who rocked me in the hospital intensive care unit, singing the first songs I ever heard. He GAVE me a love for this Dad, later in life when he became harder to love.
He, the Almighty God, GAVE me an incredible husband and two miracle baby girls.
He GAVE me a Mom and sisters who have already dug deep into their own grief education for over a year. These women patiently waited for me to be ready and now have wisdom to offer, gathering around me as I join them on this journey.
The following song and accompanying story, at the end of this post, is fanning the flame of my ever strengthening heartbeat.
If you have a grief in your life so big that words fail to express your depth of emotion, click the you tube link below and maybe this song will meet you the way it met me. If you do not have grief in your life, certainly you know friends or family who do. Celebrate this Valentine's Day with me in a non traditional way. Let's turn our gaze to the Great Physician, who heals broken hearts, enabling us to love others more deeply, fully, completely.
Engaging with our grief, in order to heal it, involves both surrender and participation.
Tell Your Heart to Beat Again - Danny Gokey
