I have never been a person who makes my bed. Mom and Daddy did not make us growing up and we did not make our boys. It was never one of those important things to us. We were just going to get back in it later so what was the big deal. These days there are few mornings where I do not make my bed and I really never paid much attention until Sunday. On this particular morning I did not make my bed, not a big event in the grand scheme, right? No earth shattering reason, I just did not feel like it.
As I walked into the room in the late afternoon, I found myself standing at the end of the bed looking at it. You see even during Eddie's final weeks, our bed was the gathering place for everyone who visited. It had held so many quiet moments and now it was so obvious that it was a bed that one person sleeps in. No longer did the pillows lay beside each other with the blankets thrown up on both sides. The pillows were stacked for one and only half the covers messed up the others lay undisturbed and cold. Missing was the comfortable bed that held so many secrets and so many dreams of two people in love. Missing was the bed for family talks as the bed for 2 held all 4 as we discussed all of our hopes for the future, disappointment of the moments and life in general. And in its place, was a bed that holds so many tears and broken dreams, a bed that feels way too big and just not as comfortable and inviting. I know that someday it will hold healing and new dreams for the future but until then I will just make the bed...
There are so many moments in grief that are all consuming and heavy. A friend sent me a link to a wonderful article about the children's book "We are going on a Bear Hunt" and its lessons that relate to grief. In the book it keeps repeating
You can't go over it.
You can't go around it.
You have to go through it!
It is so true. As the boys and I walk this path, we often talk about this. How we can either avoid the grief or we can face it and let it wash over us. Our mindset is "Let's just get through it." Avoiding it will not bring Eddie back nor will it make the pain less so why wait.
At the end of the article it says, Can we stop with "Let me tell you how to feel better" and start with "Let me sit with you right in the middle of it?" Can we acknowledge that lament and loss and despair are not only a part of life, but a part of real faith?
I have an overpowering faith that MY GOD has walked before me and that he will walk through this WITH me. My GOD loves us and will not leave us even on the days we are quiet. And MY GOD will sit beside me, all in, and love us no matter what, as we go through this.
So as I crawl into bed tonight, I pray that each of you find comfort in your unmade bed.