I am learning to live “in-between.”
I am grieving the loss of my mother, who peacefully passed in my arms on April 23, just three days after my last post. But as grief ebbs and flows, low tide is filled with planning and dreaming of what life holds in store, as I move toward the unknown on this uncharted journey.
Living “in-between” happens for each of us when crisis strikes. When we arrive there, it’s a place full of contradiction.
I know this because I am alternately strong and weak, determined and defeated, bold and hesitant. Everything has changed, and so have I. So I live in this uncertain space, trusting that the waiting will reveal an unknown truth, a purpose or meaning behind the introspection and newfound patience that I've learned to have with myself.
No one knows how or when they will be called upon to live “in-between,” but I’ve found strength in recognizing that, even within despair, there are moments of happiness that peek through the clouds, just long enough to let you know you’re still alive.
Whether you grieve the loss of a loved one, the end of a relationship or a tragic realization that destroys your current world like an errant asteroid, whatever crisis you face will have a beginning, a middle and an end. Resolution will occur, in time.
“In time,” I say to myself. “In time.”
In time, I’ll be able to have memories without tears, look at keepsakes without a tight chest and quivering lip, or take a familiar drive to a familiar place without envisioning my beloved mother beside me. In time I will feel whole again.
Like anyone who has experienced loss of any kind, change is upon me. Since I am not one to rush through pain (it actually makes it last longer, I’ve found), I am embracing the grief, honoring it, and giving it its place in my life – for a time.
Living “in-between” means I have given myself permission to live into my own answers, to uncover and discover a new self, even if I cannot imagine it yet.
“God closes a door and opens a window,” holds true for me. It’s also true that like so many who struggle through loss and grief, I’m still in the room, feeling the walls but not finding that window. I suspect it's because God knows there are days that jumping out of it may actually seem like a good idea to me.
“God closes a door and opens a window,” holds true for me. It’s also true that like so many who struggle through loss and grief, I’m still in the room, feeling the walls but not finding that window. I suspect it's because God knows there are days that jumping out of it may actually seem like a good idea to me.
“In time,” I say to myself. “In time.”
Until then, you live “in-between.”
