I don’t know if this is just me and my inability to adapt to the weather, but I think it’s been so incredibly freezing lately. My fingers become numb on the walk to class each morning in the frozen tundra of Pennsylvania. When I arrive home every evening, I crank up the heat and impatiently wait for my body to thaw.
But even when my apartment reaches 80 degrees, and when I’m cuddling under a plethora of blankets wearing my thickest pajamas, I still feel the frigid cold from the outdoors chill in my bones. Just as I can’t escape this mighty winter, I can’t escape the pains of this lasting grief.
I know that I’m currently in such a joyous and exciting season in my life. I am blessed enough to see and feel God working in my heart, and I know I don’t deserve a single good thing that I’m experiencing. However, I’m not only experiencing wondrous joys and cheek-aching smiles. These cheerful moments are like a pair of thick fuzzy socks; as comforting as they are, they don’t completely mask the frigidness and heartache inside.
I still feel the cold in my bones. The isolating effects of grief still sting.
I’m especially reminded of this lingering widow pain in this romantic season around February 14th. Those who know me know I am one of the most romantic people on this earth, and I so desperately wish Brady was alive so that I could read him another one of my cheesy poems or sing him another love song. There is so much love I have for him that I long to give. But, he’s not here to receive any of it.
I’m truly happy for the couples around me who are able to practice the exchange of love with one another this time of year. In the midst of my sincere happiness for others, my heart still breaks at every public display of affection or romantic social media post. It used to be Brady and I parting one another with a peck on the lips or shouting our love to the world. When I witness any and every display of love, I remember all that I’ve lost. And it still stings.
Spring is coming and I know there are warm and wonderful seasons of my life ahead, but there will always be another winter, and the sting of grief will always return.