I couldn’t sleep. And since I’ve been up since 4 a.m., I figured I would do something semi-productive.
I hate February. Plain and simple.
There are some good things about it. J-Bird, a nephew, and some close friends have birthdays this month. But all in all I dread the second month of every year. I probably always will.
I know what’s coming and it makes my heart stop.
I can’t seem to shake the mood I’m in.
I can’t get my mind to shut off.
And I can’t sleep. (Did I mention I’ve been up since 4?)
Even as I watch the sun rise on the horizon, in the still of the morning, I can’t stop thinking about what’s on it’s way.
I’m watching the sun rise over the top of the trees on the ranch, the ranch that was named in her memory, and it should be peaceful. I should be at peace sitting here.
It’s quiet on this cold, winter’s morning. The only sounds are the animals and the wind, but I hear so much more. I hear the thoughts running through my mind telling me that this is life now. Telling me that this is as normal as it gets now. Telling me that I need to deal with it.
Well I’m doing the best I can.
Today’s song is a good one. It’s an anthem for anyone trying to handle the situation that life has carelessly tossed them.
It doesn’t offer a solution. And it doesn’t say whether it’s right or wrong. It’s about doing what you have to do with what you have to work with. It’s about simply looking forward even if that’s the best you can do.
That’s where I am this morning.
As I sit here looking out on what my parents have built, freezing my butt off, that’s what I’m doing.
The best I can.
I’m also contemplating how Marriah could EVER love winter.
We were opposites that way. I loved summer and she loved winter (or at least she loved snow). She used to say that we didn’t get a true winter here in Texas and wished we got more snow (and real, true snow).
My fingers are going numb as I type this, and I’m not sure why I’m still out here. I’m trying to feel closer to her the best I can, I guess.
I miss her and I suppose I thought if I tried to enjoy something she did then I might get lucky and see her walk out the door and tell me I look ridiculous sitting out here like it’s five below zero. (For reference, I’m in fleece pajamas, a fuzzy onesie with the hood up, house slippers, and crocheted ear muffs…all wrapped in a blanket because it’s freakin’ freezing outside.)
I don’t know what else to do. She was such a big part of my life. For 24 years (minus a few months), she was a huge part of my life.
If you knew her, you were impacted by her love for people (especially kids) and her love for Jesus. No one was more impacted by that than me. Maybe her parents, maybe her brother, and maybe her husband, but when we lost her, I lost my faith for a while. I’ve still not gotten it all back, but that’s a blog for another day.
I’m just trying to do the best I can on this journey of grief and I’m trying to be the Adrian that she would want and encourage me to be. I’ve just learned that’s easier said than done, because she isn’t here to tell me and help me work through it.
I’m going to keep hating winter (I’m sorry, Marriah. You know I hate being cold). I’m going to keep hating February as a whole, but find joy on certain days. I’m going to do this in the only way I know how.
And that’s the best I can do.
Love you always. Miss you forever, Sunflower. 🌻
*Behind the scenes* Before I get to the credits I thought I would share a coincidence of the highest order. The album that this morning’s title song comes from was released February 2012. EXACTLY FIVE YEARS, TO. THE. DAY., BEFORE WE LOST MARRIAH. 😳 And that’s been your random fact of the day that Adrian didn’t need, want, or ever care to know.
Credits: “The Best I Can”
Artist: Jake Owen (“Act of Valor” soundtrack, 2012)
Written: Phillip White and Jake Owen