Thursday

A month ago tonight Philip died.

Today was a really hard day.

I think because it was one of the first days we had at least 8 hours all to ourselves and I had the chance to feel without disturbance.

Got up, milked, had to skim milk and wash bunches of jars by hand because our dishwasher isn't working, then made several quarts of cream into butter and made some panir and chevre so we wouldn't waste the extra milk we have on hand. Put buttermilk in the freezer. Marveled at the daffodil shade of yellow in today's butter compared to Monday's. Spilled a half gallon of goat's milk on the floor and cleaned it up.

Got mad.

Got mad at the stupid dishwasher making my life miserable.

Got mad at the children for not working as hard as me.

Got mad at myself for getting mad at the children.

Finally all the mad turned into what it really was to begin with: sad. I found an index card with a prayer written out in his hand. That made me cry.

Found a picture taken of him Valentine's Day weekend when he was having a terrible turn for the worse and his face and skin didn't look right and that made me cry.

After retreating to my room, I called Rachel and sobbed and sobbed, wondering that there were so many tears still left unshed.

The pain was so intense, I felt taken aback. I was just thinking yesterday that we were moving along in the old grieving process so well, maybe I wouldn't have to feel all that pain that others apparently feel.

Maybe we are moving along in the grieving process and feeling some intense pain is normal and real.

Ouch.

My eyes are still swollen. I took a hot epsom salts bath and sobbed. The ladies arrived for Bible study, the first one together since the night Philip died. I sobbed some more.

We read Psalm 77. Certain phrases comforted me. I was glad that David, God's friend, was allowed to moan and acknowledge pain. To question and wonder why.

I told the gals that someday in heaven I bet Philip will go up to each of them and say "Boy, you ladies sure were awesome that night! None of you are a bunch of ninnys! If ever there were a time to run screaming down the road, that night would have been a good night to do that, but you gals were brave and strong. Way to go!"

I am so proud to know those ladies. They really are strong and courageous. They let me be real and don't run away afraid when I don't act happy. They let me feel pain when I need to so I don't have to bottle it up.

I was so sad this afternoon I didn't relish the thought of having them come over. But as they came in, washed dirty dishes, served food and settled ruffled children feathers and wept with me, my pain eased. It didn't disappear, but it was miraculously distributed among seven instead of being all carried by me alone.

We shared our hugs, said goodbye, then I went out to milk Coco in the late night air. Humid and chilly but not cold. The moon is growing larger, but I couldn't see it at all for the clouds.

I miss Philip. I told Shannon I would rather live in a teeny little shack and having nothing at all and have him back.