Broken shell

First I would like to thank EVERYONE who posted on my blog their prayers, condolances and thoughts!!!! They have gratefully been recieved by both myself and my family.

While the passing of my mother meant that God restored her failed hearing, failing heart, lungs and kidneys and finally gave her peace - the void is very hard to replace. I was trying to figure out how I felt in the last twenty four hours when I finally had a chance to RELAX..... BREATHE and grieve. Planning a funneral leaves one little time to actually grieve. Even while at the funneral home for visitation it is as you almost HAVE to be on and social. I am NOT a social person. I am an introvert and really don't care much for small talk. So - as you can imagine - the visitation and funneral were personally hard for me. Laying my mother to rest was hard enough - trying to remember people from years ago, make small talk to people I really either don't know or never knew was difficult at best and finding a small down time of grieving room was not possible. Most of the week and on into the weekend I felt like an egg that was carelessly snatched from the carton, jostled and dropped on the floor. The egg shell (my facade) cracked and shattered, the insides spewed out on the floor in a congealed mass of yellow mixing with amber clear ooze (my heart and soul). Eventually someone will take the time to wipe up the mess with a hard abrasive papertowel (the closure that the funneral processional at the church was suppose to provide) - but until that time it continues to ooze across the floor mixing colors and making things even messier.

Someone attempts to place the egg shell back together with watery glue, delicate tools and a mold representing the egg from before the fall - but it shoes the cracks and missing pieces never found after the fall. Beyond the fact that the egg is now shattered and never the same - it's hollow inside.

I know many people say take it one day at a time, one breath at a time, one task at a time. I said those very same words to my dad this morning. But in reality - the thought of any of these motions makes me paralized with fear that I can not go on. As it is now I find myself starting several things - finishing none (that includes unpacking.) I need time to grieve and I need time to rest. Neither will come soon and I plog along.... Today I ushered my girls off to their first day of school and attempted to catch up on my own school work. I think I read paragraphs ten times in a row and still didn't comprehend them. I think that I attempted to finish my unpacking five times - finally - moments before sitting down to journal - finishing the task. I think that I attempted to take a shower three times today and finally - not wanting to look at my pathetic appearance in the mirror anymore - turned on the water and hopped in. I think - I want to knit - but sit with the needles in my lap and stare - my mind blank. I think I want to scrapbook (and I do - want to make mini album of my mom) but only suceed at sitting at my table staring at the cardstock. I think that I want to read (not my school book) and only suceed at looking at the wall holding the book. I think that I want to sleep - but I am trapped by insomnia.

My girls sat a the table this afternoon and made grampy cards inviting him up to visit - and I wanted to cry - but couldn't.

I have cards from co-workers and professional friends - openned but not read. I have thank you cards I have to fill out and send - but I can't seem to come up with the words. I have a bible study of psalms to continue - but find no comfort.

I am truly stuck on the side of the road of grief. I know that I am stuck in the Anger mode and seem to have settled there from day one. I know that things will get better and I know that I need to keep plogging along. It is truly difficult and have a new respect for anyone going through the same process.

Thank you again for all your prayers, thoughts and emails. They are VERY appreciated by myself and my family!

Be Blessed!