one more day, one more breath, one more football season. and with every scare, every coughing jag, my fear crops up. i’m trying to hard to be present, to connect as much as possible while she’s here.
i’ve never been good at being grounded – flighty, future leaning, always looking forward to the what ifs and the possibilities. fear doesn’t exist for me in the future – i can be optimistic about what comes, but what is here is what scares me. afraid that the video conversation we had on saturday was the last time i’ll see her face. afraid that when i hugged her last, it was the last.
i read about the vagus nerve on the internet today… why your heart aches when you feel emotional pain, why your chest feels heavy with grief. it’s odd, because one nerve, running from stomach to brain can get overstimulated, and bam. you can’t breathe, your stomach feels cold, and you’re aching somewhere inside. knowing that there is a real reason it physically hurts is reassuring. because this body is temporary, and the pain will pass, one day or at the end.
i’ve been so afraid of grief for so long – so afraid of hurt. so afraid that i all but cut off contact with all the things that have the power to hurt me, usually the things that i love. the people i love. and my sweet sister has always reached right back in. she’s figured out the the moments she has are the ones she is in. that tomorrow isn’t promised, only the time she is in, right now. she’s rooted. grounded.
i’m trying to lean in. not lean into the pain, because it’s coming whether i embrace it or not. but lean in to the one whose arms are strong. and when i rest in Him, throwing my pain and fear and longing at His feet, i can breathe again. if this is our last football season, then i want to be here for it. even if it hurts. because the pain makes these moments precious, and instead of begging for one more, i want to be present for the one i have. the one i’m in.