Bold Moves

It has been two months since my Dad passed, unexpectedly. He was 73 and lived large. He never sat on the bench in the game of life; he was a hard core player of the game; and his sudden passing left us all in shock.
My Mom, older than Dad by 11 years, has been quite a trooper despite her profound sense of loneliness. After 55 years of marriage, life to her has lost it’s compass. Dad was her Prince, her protector, her direction.
As the oldest, I took charge of the arrangements and tried to be strong for everyone. We had a celebration of life rather than a memorial and the comments were the same from everyone, “He always seemed invincible, I can’t believe he’s gone.” Indeed. Dad was a great leader and role model in all things. He was in excellent health and he and Mom worked out at the gym 3 times per week. He could still wow the younger guys by pumping out 100 pushups! And yet he died, abruptly at the rude hands of a heart attack. I muddled through that week on autopilot. As relatives arrived from across the country, I couldn’t muster any more strength. The morning of the service I emerged from the bedroom and told Hubby that I needed to run. “Tell Mom I won’t be gone long.”
The air was crisp that Nov 8th morning but warm enough to run in shorts. As Christian music played faintly in my ears, I ran. I talked to my Dad. I cried. I talked to God. I cried. The miles ticked by. I wanted to run long but I knew that Mom would start to worry if I were out too long. I ran for an hour. I cried. I got angry. I felt sadness that ached my bones. I wanted to hear Dad’s voice one more time. I alternated talking to Dad and talking to God, crying throughout. I must have been quite a sight to the cars on the road. About a half mile from home I had no more tears. I felt peaceful. It was weirdly comforting. God gave me strength to carry on.
It has been two months. Three holidays and my Mom’s birthday have come and gone. Every day is hard but every day is a little brighter. Mom is doing well though her heart remains broken. My brother is a saint, taking on the role of caregiver so that Mom is never alone. Yet, I suspect that even in the house full of people on New Year’s, she is still lonely.
Mom and I got up early on New Year’s and went to the gym. She’s getting back into her routine again and has new workout partners. My 84 year old Mom walks, does leg lifts on the roman chair, and does pulley rows. Amazing!
We all miss Dad so much. Words cannot express the gap that cannot be filled. Running has always been my therapy but I didn’t realize how much until that run…my only time to grieve. Since then, running has helped me move forward. There were days where I just wanted to lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling all day. But I ran anyway and felt better afterward, even if it was only a short run. It didn’t matter.
How long does one grieve? I don’t know. But the Lord Jesus will continue to guide me and running will continue to process my pain.