The Unwanted Guest--Grief--Part 2

In my last blog post, I said I would tell you when she--grief--made her appearance again.

It was a wonderful day. Jim and I had packed up our camping supplies. We purchased some new sleeping bags that zipped together. We would use the old three-person Jansport tent, Bill and I used many times on our backpacking adventures. We were camping with several of Jim's siblings and I was anticipating a wonderful time getting to know his family better.

The clear blue sky contrasted with the dark green firs and vine maples sporting their new tender spring green leaves. The Quartzville River flowed peacefully past our campsite. House sized rocks sat beside the water, making it a perfect place for campers to sun.

Campfire smoke lingered in the air as we settled our tent with a blow up queen-sized mattress. It nearly filled the entire space, but that wasn't a problem, for we were not carrying our camping goods on our backs, but in the car. I flopped on top of the sleeping bags and looked at the ceiling of the tent. The smells of our past lingered there. I had a lump in my throat as I started to remember them. Why did I feel sad? I was so happy, yet, there it was. Realization of my loss. The sadness didn't last long, but it was there. Grief. She can be so rude. Bumping into our thoughts even in happy times.

Instead of resisting those thoughts, I simply reflected for awhile on the good times Bill and I had in that tent. We usually backpacked by ourselves. Our kids were young adults and usually had their own plans. We hiked many miles with that tent. It was my haven from mosquitoes and was the most comfortable place to stretch out after carrying a 30-plus pound pack on my back for at least five or more miles. At the end of the day, I was tired, and didn't mind the thin sleeping pad I had.

Jim kindly listened to me as I reflected some of those memories out loud. He understood, for he would be ambushed himself with his own memories. The sadness sifted away as I  confronted it. I thanked God for those memories, for they were such a part of me. I realized I didn't need to push those memories away, just be grateful I had them. I realized that she--grief--sometimes returns. But just briefly. Then she drifts away.