I did my first load of
laundry today since Shawn died. I need
to celebrate these small victories. Up
until this point my mother and sisters have generously taken turns to make sure
this chore is accomplished. My sister
told me one day that my household has three color schemes – darks, lights and
pinks (Maddi’s contribution).
There is a detail that comes
with death where one doesn’t care much about anything besides the huge gaping
loss that blocks their path to “normal”. Since Shawn has died, I haven’t cared often about how I look, what I
eat, what I don’t eat, if the laundry gets done, or if my bed gets made.
It felt so good to put dirty
sheets in the washer and turn it on. As
I write, it sounds as if I have been handicapped. In a sense, in some ways, I do I feel
paralyzed.
Everything comes with small
steps, like an injury learning to heal. The wound heals from outside-in. First it is gushing with pain, immobile; forced into survival mode and
unable to function as before. Then the
body starts to heal the outer layer with new tissue, new skin, and new
life. Although the outside appears to be
operating sufficiently, the inside is still taking time to recover. If pushed too fast, there is risk of
reopening the progress of the wound. Maybe this is how time heals –
layer by layer, day by day, outside-in. Over time the wound will scar; although healed, evidence of a scar
remains as testimony to the trauma.
I wonder what my scar will
look like. It may be easy to cover
up. One may think I am perfectly fine
now that I can do a load of laundry. Outside-in. There is nothing fast
about healing. If I push too quickly I
risk damaging the work that God has begun in me. Outside-in. Today God gave me inspiration to wash my bed sheets. Tomorrow I may just want to stay in bed all
day. Either way, God knows how to layer
my healing. This is the one thing I trust.
