My eyes are stinging tonight from freshly engaging my ever-present sorrow. It is strange how the sadness over losing Judson can feel so different from the day-to-day and yet so much the same; I am constantly cycling through the same emotions and yet there are no constants.
C.S. Lewis, in A Grief Observed, insightfully explains that “in grief, nothing stays put. One keeps emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I’m on a spiral? But if a spiral, am I going up or down.”
And often that experience of going round and round feels more like a whirlwind — an unpredictable, uncontrollable, violent spiral, tossing me around and making it nearly impossible to anchor my emotions.
Where is this whirlwind taking me?