There have been moments this week where I’ve caught myself thinking more and more about the loss of my dad and Clayton. I had a friend from work pass away after being in the hospital. All I could think about was what his surviving wife was going through. Another coworker sadly lost his mother and it reminded me of losing my dad. I felt both the hurt of losing a parent and for my coworker’s father who is now finding himself relabeled and placed on the widowed list.
I couldn’t sleep well the other night. We are getting a new couch and cleaning the cushions of the old couch. The cushion covers removed revealed a long lost stain. Clayton had spilled cranberry juice saying something sassy when he was sick. Of course I laughed and cleaned it up as best I could. I got it off the cover but it remained hidden from plain sight just like my memory of him on that couch. Those memories of watching him fade day after day are forever engrained in my mind and stained on my heart.
Sometimes stains can be frustrating but other times they can bring back memories of grand adventures and moments of pure joy. That old cozy sweatshirt you love with the coffee stain on the front from where you were laughing so hard you tipped your cup. That favorite hat that is tattered and torn stained with years of wear. That hat may look like junk to others but it has been a true friend. That hat walked with you through so many days shading your eyes so you could experience the journey.
Yesterday I had a really difficult morning unable to shake what grief’s imagination had conjured in my dreams. I felt heavy and wondered why today was so much. Later, a friend brought her daughter into work to see the animals. Right before my eyes I watched a little girl and her mother smile and laugh all well knowing that they both carry the grief of my friend’s son, that little girl’s brother, passing away almost 2 years ago. What goes unnoticed by strangers was visible to me. I will always see the stain on their hearts. However, in that moment, they didn’t strengthen my grief, they gave me a gift. They reminded me that the heavy feeling of the day would undoubtedly subside. Shortly after, that little girl said she had Girl Scout Cookies to sell. My dad loved Girl Scout Cookies so I gladly returned her grief gift with gratitude by helping lighten her cookie carrying.
New grief is young and brings you back to childhood where the smallest things can seem like the end of the world. I’m constantly reminding myself that it takes time to grow. It’s been almost 4 years since Clayton passed and my perspective has slowly evolved. Instead of crying over spilled milk, I’ll just use what’s left in that half full glass to dunk my cookies in just like my dad did and seeing a glass of cranberry juice will remind me of the beauty found in stains of the heart…
