Thanksgiving is over and all went better than anticipated. Marcus’ unexpected death shocked us all and several were concerned about the usual family gathering, but all ended up alright. I was one of the first to leave b/c I strongly felt the need for some time alone. Since the evening of Marcus' death, time has been a blur.
The past few days have been emotionally taxing. My heart was breaking for all of his children but especially for Kaylyn. I hate that Kaylyn lost a dad that she was so close to. I hate that Marcus won’t be here to greet his first biological grandchild upon her arrival nor will he be here to greet Chris’ 5th child.
I was grieving for them and at the same time encompassed with grief for myself, that totally caught me off guard. I was so saddened about a family losing such a good man. I was saddened by those hurting so deeply. Yet the sadness I battled the most with was the ultimate unfairness of life.
I was grieved for the realization that I never had a relationship with my dad like Marcus' children had with him; and was grieved that I, most likely, never will. I was grieved by the fact that Wayne and I don't, and most likely, won't have children of our own. The grief of Kaylyn losing the twins last year has just recently taken hold. And hearing the obituary read aloud that included the loss of "Baby Baker, Halle Jace Baker, and Marcie Kay Baker" struck a nerve that I thought I had successfully 'gotten over'. I have begun to grieve over the loss of our children, through miscarriages, that I just 'pushed through' with very little talk, very little sadness, and very little thought.
I am beginning to feel like an emotional onion. It's as if the Lord peels back a layer for emotional exploration. After much struggle, comes a supernatural healing that allows for a seemingly short amount of time of peace, before another layer is peeled away and the 'journey' begins once again. Though I am enormously thankful for the healing that occurs, I am growing weary and wonder how many "layers" there are.