It sounds weird, but I feel like I’m grieving over my terminally ill cat, even though she’s still alive. The knowledge that she’ll soon be gone can sometimes be overwhelming and brings me to tears, and the sadness of it is always present.
Grief and sadness are exhausting. It seems that it takes almost superhuman energy to function on a normal level when you’re especially sad.
Also, I’ve noticed that grief makes me feel weak and small. I don’t want to adult. I just want someone to hold me and tell me that everything will magically be alright, like I’m still 9-years old.
I know everything will not be alright. I still pray for a miracle for my Lucy and will up until the last possible moment, but I’m also prepared (as much as you can be) for the worst when I have to say my final goodbyes.
Even in the midst of all the sorrow, there have still been some beautiful moments that I will cling to after the sadness passes. I will remember the way she still got in my lap, even though she was weak and sick. I will remember how she still wanted to be near me.
I cling to the promise of God that grief lasts for just a night, but joy comes in the morning. Joy is always on the other side of grief for those who see with eyes of faith.
Right now, I’m hanging on and believing in spite of everything I’m feeling. It’s been a beautiful and wonderful 17 years that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. I still believe with Job, “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Sorrow will not have the last word in this or any other story.