I was sifting through my old journal entries the other night and came across this beautiful and powerful image. I'm in the valley of sorrow right now, and I don't want to be here. And I've thought, why? Why, if I'm doing everything right, why do I still feel this way? This grief is hard. I've still felt the realness of the fact that my dad isn't coming back. I've still felt this aching and tightness in my chest that won't go away.
I've been doing all of these things, and I've still felt sad. I've been exercising like crazy to keep my anxiety at bay. I pray while laying in my bed at night even after praying on my knees by my bed. I pray all day long as I go throughout the day. To deal with the grief, I've been diving into my scriptures more. It was a heartbreaking moment putting that plate back in the cupboard and seeing the empty seat at the table as we ate dinner.
Then I realized we needed one less this time because my dad wasn't there anymore. I reached into the cupboard and mentally counted the plates we'd need. Right after my dad passed away, I remember setting the table. Simple moments like that can become complex in an instant. I counted as I grabbed the towels one by one, "Aidan, Kimball, Lincoln, Ryah, Jayze, Me." But even then, as I stuffed them in the bag, I kept counting over and over, thinking I was missing one. I finally put all of the towels back and tried again.
"Okay, let's see, we have five kids, so I need seven towels, but we only have four kids here, so I actually just need six towels." Then I grabbed seven towels anyway, had to put one back, then tried counting again. I stood in front of the open linen closet, trying to make sure I had the right amount of towels. The towels were one of the last things I grabbed, and those ended up taking the longest. I was hurrying to pack and get everything ready before Jayze got off work. A few weeks ago we were still living at my mom and dad's house, and my husband's family had planned a "diving off cliffs and swimming" trip.
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