If I could create one of those "Monday’s be like ..." memes today - it would be one with a very weird, crazy face (maybe even goofy like this photo of Josh, but weirder because this one actually makes me laugh).
I knew going into this week, that it would be tough - as the official date anniversary of Josh’s passing is on Wednesday (Sept. 30). But what I didn’t expect was to get hit early with the realization that indeed it was a Monday when Josh passed away. The last Monday in September one year ago.
The thought hit me early Monday morning as I grabbed coffee at a local cafe, where I also spotted someone dressed in a similar style as Josh - a red puffy vest, brown hair and glasses. I knew it wasn’t him but contextually, the setting and attire still had me doing more than a double-take.
My heart and mind still wants to argue with the reality that he is no longer here on earth.
I know the truth too well. On Sunday, I even watched a banquet video honoring whole body donors, including Josh who participated in this program -- (You can watch it here if interested). Yet still, in grief, we fight to find a way to protect our own hearts from the pain we feel.
The challenge with grief is how easy it can be triggered - with the simplest things, like it being a Monday. Even when someone makes a goofy, seemingly innocent comment like "I'd rather die than ..." it can feel like a dagger to the heart of someone who has lost big. Joking with friends at a work event tonight, I had to step away several times because there were little reminders of what it was like to care for someone at the end of life. It’s complex and challenging in ways that many people don’t see or imagine.
Mixed within this, there IS hope and joy in realizing how truly blessed we are to witness another sunset, moon rising, Andy’s custard bite or even Chiefs' victory. . . but still, some days and weeks are harder than hard.
As I grieve on, there are days when I feel like I am back at day 1 - like I have lost Josh all over again. That IT IS indeed THAT Monday. To be full-out honest, it really sucks. And it hurts, deeply - even still - and comes with a stupid amount of tissues and tears.
This doesn’t mean I am going backwards in my grief process, but that I am still healing. This takes time and grace from others and ourselves (as grievers). It takes support and encouragement from those around that love us unconditionally.
Right in the middle of this healing, is a God and Savior that knows me (us) and with me (us) in my (our) pain. Christ offers grace even in our messy grief and is a source of strength for another messy day (or week, etc...) This is good news, even on a messy, emotive Monday.
The Lord is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation; this is my God, and I will praise him, my father’s God, and I will exalt him." –- Exodus 15:2
Hi! It's Jenn Brown, writing my story that is now slightly different as we enter a season of new grief. On September 30, 2019, my dear husband Josh passed away after battling brain cancer.