Working through it

I've talked about the chronic grief we lived with for the last four years: losing a typically developing child, gaining a child with severe disabilities and all the trauma that that event included. The sadness of what Annie lost herself, although it mercifully never seemed to bother her. And, now the physical loss of her and her place in our lives. Every one of our lives revolved around this little Miss in an intense way--every decision, every plan, everything included her. She really was the center of our universe in many ways.

And yet, it has surprised me that our time now doesn't seem to be empty, in the sense that we have long spans of hours with nothing to do. Going through Annie's things and deciding what to keep and what to give away has been cathartic to me. It's been comforting to see equipment like her wheelchair and activity chair go to children whose lives will be improved by using them. And also comforting to choose some of her things to keep out nearby to remind us of Her Little Self, like the blankets I gave to each of the kids to keep in their rooms, along with any of her stuffed toys they wanted.

Then there's the mountain of thank you notes that I'm working on. We have been overwhelmed with the many expressions of sympathy from you all--so many kind cards, gifts, flowers--it has been a daily reminder that God loves us and is walking through this with us. And the notes I'm writing are a pleasure, because it's like experiencing again the things you've done for us.

Also, soon we'll design Annie's headstone and having that placed on her grave. I have conflicting emotions about graves, I'll admit, because I so clearly see her with Jesus, and not in the ground. But we'll do it, and it will be a sweet reminder of young Annalee.

I've also appreciated the time I've had with the older kids and Bill to process what happened four years ago, all the events of the last four years, and of course, the things from the last few months. It's been good to have time to talk, and to listen when the kids come in and sit down with tears in their eyes. Just hearing their perspective of events, their questions about why, and what do I do when people talk about Annie and I just want to cry? It's all work, but it's all good.

Again...we know you all are praying, and those prayers form a blanket of comfort around us.

Working through it,

Jean

You number my wanderings;
Put my tears into Your bottle;
Are they not in Your book?  Psalm 56:8