Grieving...I need a 'how to manual'

My daughter enjoying beautiful flowers at a local trail

Grieving. I am no good at it. I have no idea how to process these strange emotions. I would say grief has been limited in my life.  My grandfather, an uncle, a family friend, a couple more relatives I was never very close to round out my experience with grief.  However, I am not grieving a person at this point in my life. The concept might sound silly to most and some might even say it is outrageous to call what I am going through grieving. It is not my intention to insult someone who may have actually lost a loved one.

Through this whole moving process we have purged a lot of items.  The less we have to move the better. The other day I went into our basement to bring up more boxes of stuff we had stored down there. Holiday decorations, genealogy items, our daughter's toys- no big deal.  Tucked away high on a shelf I had about three plastic tubs full of baby clothes and toys. Seems everyone lately is telling me to get rid of it all.  Sounds easy, right? Take the boxes, throw them in the car, drive them to Goodwill, hand them over with a smile to the man who has seen way too much of me lately, drive away. Simple. No, not really.

I sifted through the boxes to pull out any little items I wanted as keepsakes. I promised myself only a few items as I pulled everything out. However, my pile of keepsakes got larger and the tears gained momentum. This was not going well.  I grabbed everything and threw it all back into the tubs, slammed the lids on and stormed upstairs.  I couldn't do it.  It is silly, I know.  We could always buy new baby clothes and toys.  What if we had another and it was a boy? We would need new stuff anyway.  That is not the point. Purging all the baby items is an admission. An admission that the family I had dreamed I would have was probably not going to happen. I had to face the truth that it is time to let go.  Seven years is a long time to pray that we would be able to once again open all those boxes and joyfully put all those clothes into the nursery. Then I consider how our daughter would be the luckiest girl in the world to have ALL the attention of mom and dad.

Photo by Jennifer Bergman

After a few days I sucked it up, put on my big girl panties and went in the basement again. I put on blinders. I lugged those boxes upstairs, out the door and to my car.  I drove like a zombie to Goodwill. As I pulled up I took a deep breath, did put on that smile and handed the boxes over to the man that has seen too much of me.  I pretended something else was in those boxes...anything. Maybe pots and pans, clothes, or books that someone else could enjoy.

I have realized something else.  Something I know I have heard before.  Grieving is a process. I think I am somewhere in the middle.  I saw two little babies recently born in our family yesterday at Easter. No, I did not hold them.  However, I was able to go up to them and take a peek...with a smile. I walked away without a single tear welling up in my eyes.  That, my friends, is progress.  Seems so incredibly small to most people, but to me it is a huge step toward the end of grieving and the beginning of acceptance of what God has intended for my life. I have to live by the motto, "Things happen for a reason".  This phrase has been proven time and time again in my life.

This move can now provide a new start.  A fresh prospective on what life will hold for just the three of us. Here's to new adventures!