My garden had 2 gates. One was the usual wooden gate, part of the fence, that opened to the front yard. It provides minimal security and keeps my garden private. The other gate is wrought iron and divides the garden from the backyard. Originally, we put it up to keep the dog from digging up plants in “sacred” territory. Over the last few months, the wrought iron gate has been dismantled since we trusted the doggy a little more.
Truth be told, my grief is much like those gates in my garden. Like the wooden gate, there will always be a part of my grieving that is protected from intrusion. However, there is also a part that I am ready to expose and allow others into. Slowly, day by day, I am trying to remove the barriers I put up immediately after losing Brian.
Oh, yes, people could see glimpses of “me” through those wrought iron bars, but they were not going to be allowed in. I would not entertain the intrusion of love and friendship into my private pain. My grief, my pain, not going to expose it for others to see or judge. The problem with that thinking is that not only was I barring people from my pain, I was preventing them from offer their love.
Love and grace that I desperately needed. August will be four years. FOUR years since my beautiful son headed to heaven without me. I didn’t like to ask “why” then, and I don’t like to ask “why” now. For ME, the why does not matter. For ME, what matters is that I live a life that honors God. For ME, it is important to live a life that exhibits love and grace. Love and grace that God has showered upon me. Love and grace that grows as I take down the barriers and let people in.
My grief had 2 gates…
The Garden of Grace 