“Could this be how it feels like if my husband is no longer around?”—asked my heart, as I trod out of the church auditorium into a sea of people who were mostly chatting with someone—while I stood there momentarily lost, and alone. Continue reading “Tell the devil who wants to steal your peace, “not today!””
This post is a way for me to process my thoughts—four days after knowing that my husband has cancer. It is also for our family and friends who are concerned with how we are feeling with the diagnosis. It is my prayer too that it’ll be a sharing of hope for you. Continue reading “Thoughts from my husband’s cancer diagnosis”
‘I want to swim again’
said my late mum to her oncologist when at her stage-4 cancer, he asked what is it that she wants to do (to encourage her). Fight she did, but she never got the chance to go into the pool ever again.
What is it that you want to do even if it’s just a simple thing—but you are giving yourself excuses not to?
Or, are you questioning ‘does it matter to do what I’m doing?’
I question myself many times about my role in the church office. I question my blogging; writing about God. I question myself even over this 365 daily word thingy. Does it matter? Will it make a difference to other people?
Hubs told me, ‘Even if you do it, you may not know in your lifetime whether it will matter. But if you don’t do it, you will NEVER know and will live with this niggling thought. Maybe even at your death bed; regret.’
#day3 #dailyword #dailycalligraphy #noregrets #makeadifference #365
Being reminded of never being able to call my mom mummy again sucks.
*staring at the computer screen. at work.
Help me to pull myself together today.
…. Maybe He doesn’t want me to pull myself together. Maybe He wants me to let go.
Perhaps I’ve never taken the time needed to grieve properly. Is there a proper way to grieve?
Life is so busy that we can’t afford to fully grieve.
EVEN GRIEVING IS SOMETHING THAT I CAN ONLY DO WHEN I HAVE THE TIME.
Find a weekend to grieve. Find an hour on Monday to grief. But there are always things to do, dinners to attend, ministries to serve in, a certain pattern of daily life to live so that the families living under the same roof won’t be affected by my sadness too much; smiles to put on…
Is it a luxury, an indulgence to just want to be alone, not having to go to office, not having to worry about work that depends on you to complete, not having to tend to husband and daughter, not having to be careful of being nice to them because really, I just don’t want to answer you right now… to just grieve.
What if I just want to cry the whole day? Write the whole day? Pray for the whole day? Be alone the whole week? What if I just need to do what I need to do fully grieve?
At the back of my mind, I would think, well, it’s too late now. Too much at stake with your work. Who would be able to do them??
Who would do the news? Who would update the site?? Who would coordinate whatever it takes to keep things moving??
Back to the same thing. Even to grief, it seems that I need to carve out time to do that.
Just watched Saving Mr.Banks. Until I make peace with the knowledge that everything in this temporary world is, well, temporary… I would always go on living in fear of losing people I love to death.
Until I make peace with the HOPE that because we have accepted Christ and therefore death is ONLY the beginning of an eternity… I will only know of the hope, but not live it.
Watching ‘Mr. Bank’ died in his bed with the young Helen Goff standing there, stir up image files of me standing inches from my mom as she drew her last breath.
I too, like Helen Goff need to put an end to replaying the painful memories and replace them with our happy times. Images of how beautiful she looked. Images of us… I can’t find the happy files, I’m sure they are somewhere in there.
Seeing my mom’s photos and closing my eyes in pain. Yep. Not healed.
It’s been in my head for months. To write and write and write about my grief.
Pour, pour, pour.
I’m not sure if it will help me heal. But after one year plus, I deserve to face myself. Face my grief. From within me to words.