Jealous of the Angels

Once in a while, the lines of some song will drift into my mind and stay with me. I look up the lyrics and listen to those songs, then see other songs listed down the side of the page. Sometimes I also listen to those songs.

Wednesday the song with the title above was listed. I pulled up the lyrics, then listened to the song. It tells of there being another angel around the throne and the only hero the singer knows being with the angels. I should not have listened to that song. I probably should not have even read the lyrics.

My darling Greg is with the angels, singing God’s praises for eternity. I can no longer hear his voice lifted in song. I can no longer see his smile, hear his laughter, nor feel his arms around me. 

Yes, I am jealous of the angels around the throne tonight.

No Rocks

Fifty-one years without my first rock. Nearly two years without my second one.

Enough said.

Foundation of Sadness

Since Memorial Day week, grief has given me a reprieve of sorts. I have cried several times, most often just a few tears when something reminds me strongly of Greg, and a few times I’ve cried for an hour or longer.

Even with the tears appearing the past two and a half weeks, grief hasn’t dragged me into the intense sorrow that I have endured several times this year. Instead, there is an underlying sadness that permeates all my days, no matter what I am doing. Listening to music. Petting the cats. Mowing the yard. Driving. Eating a meal. Doing laundry.

Even during pleasurable activities such as attending a Travis Tritt concert last week, sadness lingers just under the surface of my life, coloring my thoughts with ‘I wishes” and ‘whys.’

Perhaps this is the foundation for the rest of my life. I will do things that I enjoy, things that make me laugh, things that are pleasant, but each and every thing that I do will be touched with sadness, sadness that persistently reminds me of what is no longer in my life and that I can never have again.

This is not a pleasant foundation but right now it is what is there. The sadness is more bearable than the heart-wrenching grief that I have experienced often this year. I can tolerate this foundation of sadness. 

Like it, no. But I can tolerate it.