Today I am sad
Today I am sad.
I feel sad.
Why are those words so dang hard to type?
Why is it so hard to admit when we are feeling emotions other than the, socially categorized, "positive" emotions?
Our culture has divided our feelings into two groups-good and bad. We openly share all about the good emotions. We exclaim to everyone when we are happy or excited. We shout it from the roof tops when we have the rush of expectancy and anticipation.
Yet we are tight-lipped about our feelings of sadness, anger, and worry. We "paint on" our happy face and push through the "bad" emotions. We share with no one when our hearts are hurting or we are feeling anxious or fearful.
Why? Who decided that those "negative" feelings are "bad"?
Why is is wrong for me to feel sad? Why am I not just as expected to share about my worries as I am to share about my happiness?
Why do we try to "fix" sadness while we celebrate happiness. We never try to find solutions for our people when they are sharing their feelings of joy, yet we come up with countless solutions for our feelings of sadness.
I don't want to be fixed. I just want to feel sad right now. I have lot to be sad about. My son is dead. He died suddenly and unexpectedly.
That makes me sad.
That feeling isn't bad and there is no fixing it. It just is. And I sure as heck don't want to add guilt to the emotion stew by feeling bad about feeling sad.
Today, I cleaned my youngest son's room which he used to share with my oldest son. We haven't cleared out all of Deral's things yet because, let's be honest, that's an activity no one wants to do. During my monthly purge of old McDonald's toys, broken legos, and scribbled-on papers, I stumbled upon a basket of Deral's shoes. It was tucked in the back of the closet covered by toys and clothes that had been shoved in the closet in my 4 year old's futile attempt to get out of cleaning his room
Seeing the first sole of the men's size eight tennis shoe peeking out from under the pile of junk sent my mind into a frenzy.
"Don't be sad! Don't even look, just pile more junk on top and deal with that later. Breathe, Michelle, just breathe. No tears. Not today! Don't be sad!"
Okay but why!? Why shouldn't I be sad?
My precious son's stinky, sweaty feet used to wear those shoes. Those shoes stomped through my house attached to the most beautiful little boy. Those shoes took my son to school, and baseball, and church, and restaurants. Those shoes made us late most mornings. Those shoes were the constant battle to keep the living room picked up. I talked about those shoes with my dead son more times than I can count.
Hell yeah I'm sad.
I will never battle with my kid about picking up his shoes again. I will never look at the shoes I had bought just weeks before and wonder how he has already walked the bottoms off again. I will never look for the forever lost shoe with my son again.
That makes me sad!
Today I piled all of my son's shoes on top of my body and cried. I cried so hard because my son will never wear them again. I smelled them, trying to catch a whiff of the smell I use to complain about. I thought about all the times these shoes were talked about.
And then I laughed.
I laughed so hard thinking about the thoughtful way Deral shopped for his shoes. He tried on tons and had very specific (and different) ideas of what type of shoes he wanted each and every time we needed new shoes, which was ALOT.
I smiled.
I had a HUGE smile across my face when I remembered his very first pair of cowboy boots. My husband and I shopped diligently to choose the perfect pair for our sweet little boy. It only took him a month to wear the soles down to nothing.
I found joy.
I became joyful because my sadness brought memories. I held his cleats in my arms and remembered how amazing he was at baseball. He was the epitome of sportsmanship. He was an encourager and constantly trying to better his game. He was brave and always up for a challenge.
I found hope.
I held his hiking boots and remembered his love for nature. He loved hunting and exploring. I truly believed I would become a worried marine's momma someday. He was a protector and wanted nothing more than to fight for anyone and everyone's freedom. I found hope as I remembered him marching in those boots singing "I'm a soldier in God's army".
I found peace.
I held his one pair of dress shoes. The only pair with the soles still intact. I remembered all the times I thought about his future. I remember knowing that Deral was going to be the best husband. He loved fiercely and was loyal and caring. I found peace knowing that he loved our God and was undoubtedly living with Jesus.
Today I am sad. But I am also hopeful, joyful and at peace. My sadness doesn't need to be fixed. It isn't something that needs to be avoided or hidden. Sadness needs to be felt. Sadness isn't bad, it is hard. But I have learned that good ALWAYS comes from the hard.
Our emotions aren't bad OR good. They just are. We need them. We must sit with them and allow Jesus to bring comfort and peace. We can't fight them or label them. We can't hide them from ourselves or from others. We shouldn't celebrate them OR fix them. They don't control us but we have to learn to control them.
Today I am sad. I am also hopeful, joyful, happy, expectant, and full of gratitude because I spent 11 beautiful years with my son and his stinky shoes.