A Prayer of Sorts

Grief has a way of humbling me in ways that still surprise me. 

Any sort of ego is out the door. And on some days, it’s all I can do to maintain my confidence and self-worth. 

When you’ve been through as much as I’ve been through in the last 9 months—and truthfully, the last three years—sometimes just getting up and getting dressed and getting to work is all I can manage. And then I am faced with a whole day of tasks, responsibilities, conversations, and accountabilities that have nothing to do with my grief.

But the grief is always there. It’s bubbling under the surface, and what matters is how I manage that on a day to day basis. Some days, I manage it very well. Other days—not so much.

Some days, it’s this Grand Canyon-sized chasm that often leaves me feeling utterly foolish, childish, and out of control. Tears rush down my cheeks, and I can’t stop them.

But the facts do not change. My mom is still dead. My sister is still dead. The man I thought was the love of my life betrayed me in a way I have never before been betrayed—and that relationship is understandably dead.

But I—I am still here.

On some days, that confuses me. I see so many possibilities, and I have a hard time translating those possibilities into focused action. It’s a weakness I’ve always had, but it’s exacerbated by grief.

Today, I ask for the Divine to step in and guide my life. Guide my mind, my soul, my heart, and my body to Your light. I cannot do this alone. I need Your help. I need Your guidance and love.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Thank you.