I’m limited and at times I hate the fact of this matter.
I hate that even when I want to push beyond my human limitations I cannot. Being human will always limit me whether I want to admit it or not.
My limitations came into play recently in sync with an anniversary in my life. Saturday marked two years since my grandmother died. Usually anniversaries are happy dates and wonderful spots in time that we celebrate and remember for the joy and laughter they bring us.
But the anniversaries of deaths are not happy. They hold nothing wonderful and joy doesn’t come out of us, but tears and sadness do instead.
I remember at my grandmother’s memorial service at the moment the casket lid was about to be closed, my Auntie and mama both leaped from their seats and ran to my grandma, tears in their eyes, touching the casket, touching my grandma and speaking their love for her in their sobs.
They knew this would be the last time they would see her this side of heaven. They needed to see her — one more time. Elders in the church understood as they spoke over them with love in those uncovered moments of grief and vulnerability, “It’s alright baby, it’s alright.”
I knew this was a significant moment and though Lena was my grandma, she was their mother. They knew her in ways I did not and their love, memories and grief for her would be unique and different from mine.
Anniversaries are hard when it comes to missing those you love.
Limitations coupled with those anniversaries are even harder. Last Wednesday I left Orlando for Atlanta for a three week work trip. I had great plans in mind and things in motion. Productivity and momentum were on my mind and success in my hands.
But Friday hit me like a ton of bricks by way of unexpected grief and sadness. My body was giving me a very real heads up that Saturday was an important day and I needed to remember why.
Grief comes in waves and it comes unpredictable. Time helps but doesn’t dissolve the loss. I found these words from the National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization spot on:
The “sweet sadness” that arises when you remember your loved one “is simply the acknowledgment that significant loss has occurred. That the loss, and the person who is gone, matters and affects our lives.”
My grief feels disruptive right now. My sadness at times frustrates me. My plans for this work trip are being shaken up and I didn’t plan for this.
Two years after her death I continue to grieve my grandmother, in different ways. A friend told me once “we grieve deeply because we’ve loved deeply.” I agree with those words. They are true.
In our grief as humans we also experience the limitations of being human. We’re limited by forces beyond our control. We get slowed down by emotions and feelings that were put into us by God to help us cope with and navigate these valleys and meandering turns of life.
I want to embrace my limitations more. I want to see them for what they are and welcome them into my life.
I want to broken and be okay with that. I don’t want to hide my tears or put on my Superwoman bad a$# t-shirt. Today I choose to embrace my weakness, my sadness and my pain.
What a gift it is to feel pain because you have chosen to love someone who also chose to love you. That type of pain is unique and woven into hearts that want to love and are open to be loved.
What an unexpected honor it is to allow grief into your life as the friend you never wanted but absolutely needed. You need grief, with his sister mourning, to help you process your pain and express your feelings over the loss of that person in your world as you knew it to be.
I’m limited. I’m learning how to live in my limitations.
One day at a time.
