I am confident that we don't all grieve alike.
One of the identifiable symptoms of my grief is my new sleeping pattern.
It so happened that the first night Melvine died, I did not get to sleep until 5:30 a. m. the next morning?
Why did this happened? Here is my analysis.
First of all, I remember I was so weary and tired. I wanted to go to sleep, but I pushed myself to stay awake to
do a Hugh's News and write the obituary for the funeral home and newspaper.
I knew if I did not write it, no one would or could. I had wanted to write it months earlier. I asked Melvine for her help. But, she didn't want any part of it. Although I write daily, doing a obituary is not something I do every day, and yet, I have edited and helped others to write theirs.
So, I struggled and felt I did a very poor job in completing the task. It is a task because writing about the death of a wife is one of the toughest assignments given to a man.
I did not get to sleep until after 5:30 a.m. the next day. That one event has set the pattern for my sleep. It is almost 11 p. m. on Wednesday and I am sleepy. I want to finish this edition of Hugh's News and go to bed. Actually, I no longer sleep in our king-size bed. I sleep in my La z Boy recliner. I have a blanket to cover me as I need it. I have not slept in our bed since my total left knee surgery on December 16, 2019, Melvine's 85th birthday.
Last Sunday, when our Sunday school class was over in the lower level of our educational plant called Stephanie's Place, named after our Stephanie who died in 2014, it was raining. The rain was coming down in torrents with wind. All of the vehicles to carry me up to the handicap ramp up the hill were too high for me to climb up in. And we would have all got soaked. I should have stayed until the rain stopped. However, I wanted to be in worship in the church sanctuary.
So, I made an unwise decision and that was to try to climb the stairs, some 30 of them, with a landing half-way up to the upper level of our educational facility. That was not a wise decision. I thought I would collapse. I had to stop several times, and two men, George Chassesven and Lavon Revells had to get behind him or below me and push my legs up. As a result, I am still sore and find it difficult to walk.
I am having to take high-powered pain medication to take care of the pain in my body.
I need your prayers for wisdom and sanity.
Grief is real.
One of the identifiable symptoms of my grief is my new sleeping pattern.
It so happened that the first night Melvine died, I did not get to sleep until 5:30 a. m. the next morning?
Why did this happened? Here is my analysis.
First of all, I remember I was so weary and tired. I wanted to go to sleep, but I pushed myself to stay awake to
do a Hugh's News and write the obituary for the funeral home and newspaper.
I knew if I did not write it, no one would or could. I had wanted to write it months earlier. I asked Melvine for her help. But, she didn't want any part of it. Although I write daily, doing a obituary is not something I do every day, and yet, I have edited and helped others to write theirs.
So, I struggled and felt I did a very poor job in completing the task. It is a task because writing about the death of a wife is one of the toughest assignments given to a man.
I did not get to sleep until after 5:30 a.m. the next day. That one event has set the pattern for my sleep. It is almost 11 p. m. on Wednesday and I am sleepy. I want to finish this edition of Hugh's News and go to bed. Actually, I no longer sleep in our king-size bed. I sleep in my La z Boy recliner. I have a blanket to cover me as I need it. I have not slept in our bed since my total left knee surgery on December 16, 2019, Melvine's 85th birthday.
Last Sunday, when our Sunday school class was over in the lower level of our educational plant called Stephanie's Place, named after our Stephanie who died in 2014, it was raining. The rain was coming down in torrents with wind. All of the vehicles to carry me up to the handicap ramp up the hill were too high for me to climb up in. And we would have all got soaked. I should have stayed until the rain stopped. However, I wanted to be in worship in the church sanctuary.
So, I made an unwise decision and that was to try to climb the stairs, some 30 of them, with a landing half-way up to the upper level of our educational facility. That was not a wise decision. I thought I would collapse. I had to stop several times, and two men, George Chassesven and Lavon Revells had to get behind him or below me and push my legs up. As a result, I am still sore and find it difficult to walk.
I am having to take high-powered pain medication to take care of the pain in my body.
I need your prayers for wisdom and sanity.
Grief is real.