Lately, I feel like I have been overcome by a flood of emotions. For the most part, I’m very good at keeping things at bay. I have a small moment, mostly private–an internal moment–and then I move on. Tell myself that it will be okay. I know myself, and I know once the tears begin, things get ugly. I can’t talk. I’m quiet. Because I try so hard to keep it in that the tears sting, my throat closes, and pressure builds in my upper head area. That’s me, lately. And it’s a pretty rare thing.

It all started last Sunday with some good, happy emotions. There was no children’s church for kids Brayden’s age, so he came with us into the service. He stood on the pew bench, between James and I. And as his little voice sang wholeheartedly, Oh, I’m running to your arms, I’m running to your arms, the riches of your love, will always be enough. Nothing compares to Your embrace. Light of the world forever reign, my heart flooded with joy. With happiness. With everything I’ve always wanted. My little boy singing praise songs. It was my moment to keep. And boy, those tears started trying to spring from my eyes. Stinging me and gathering up in the corners. But I had my quick moment. I savored it. I smiled with my heart, and I smiled in real life.

These kind of happy feelings are welcome, at any point 🙂

Yesterday, I went to the nursing home with my mom and my brother to visit my grandfather.  I haven’t seen him in a few months. And he’s changed a lot. He’s under hospice care. He’s lost a ton of weight. He was barely responsive. He didn’t smile. He’s not in a wheelchair anymore, but a gerichair so he doesn’t try to stand up (because he will most likely fall over). He falls out of bed almost every night (despite the measures they take to try to keep him in the bed)–luckily onto cushions. Sometimes, he can’t feed himself anymore.

It was a beautiful day, so we went outside and pushed him for a little fifteen minute walk. He was so quiet. So peaceful. I thought right then and there that he looked so peaceful and happy to be out in the sun, that he might close his eyes and never open them again. I fixed the collar on his shirt, fixed his sweater a bit. Put his foot back up on the recliner part of his chair when it fell off a bit. Rubbed his cheek to see how smooth it was because they had just shaved him. And I thought about how hard it is to watch someone get old and incapable of doing life anymore. There’s an inner struggle between wanting them to live because it’s sad to think of them no longer with us, but wanting them to pass away because it’s entirely way too sad to watch the slow fade. And the tears came just a little, and stung.

And as if dealing with one hard emotion in one day isn’t enough, I had two at once, within hours of each other. First, my grandfather. And then a goodbye of a different sort. We left Buffalo, and left my brother, his wife and their three kids. We won’t be seeing them again for at least another two years. I can’t tell you how hard it was to drive away. And since I like to avoid emotions, I couldn’t look at my sister-in-law. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go trying to stay composed, but as we said the final goodbyes and started pulling away, the window was down and she reached in and touched my arm in a final sort of way to say goodbye, and then off we went. Those stinging tears came out then, just as they are coming out as I type this. Two years is a long time. Kids grow so much in that time. So many memories are missed. And I stuff all of my emotions away to the point where we rarely stay in contact with them while they are gone because it seems like they are in another world. Another planet. No longer with us, here in the present. Such a weird thing to say, but them being thousands upon thousands of miles away makes it feel like they are unreachable and more distant than anything I’ve ever imagined. And while I have every intentions of being better at staying in contact this time, I know that it will be a struggle. I’m not good with keeping in touch with people. I don’t communicate via phone, unless it’s very rare cases (though, I will text all day long). And I forget birthdays half the time. (Truly, it’s not them in the “other” world, it’s more like me, living on my own personal planet. Out of touch with three quarters of reality).  So, two years? Well, that seems more like a small eternity.

I’m hoping the next few weeks are a bit less of an emotional toll. It’s rare for me to have emotional days–so many so close together might start turning me into a different person. Eeek! Watch out . . . Sentimental James might soon have a sentimental wife!