It's that time again. Teachers and families are in back-to-school mode all over the country. School supplies and clothing fill our shopping carts, paperwork deadlines (now online) fill our time and thoughts of eager anticipation fill our minds as we get ready for another school year. The Oliphint girls are excited about entering 10th, 8th and 6th grade. Of course, I am delighted about welcoming another precious group of children who are starting kindergarten. It's an eventful and thrilling time of year. Everything is bright, new, crisp and clean as we pack our school bags and as I organize my classroom. I couldn't be more enthusiastic while jumping back into familiar tasks and routines. However, there is another overwhelming feeling that nags at the same time. This week marks the anniversary of my Dad's horse riding accident, followed by the anniversary of his death (and returning to work at that time).
You would think after completing a year of "firsts" that we would be ready for this, but in many ways, I feel stuck, not knowing how to grieve. There is not a manual or "grief for dummies" that prepares you for the unexpected emotions and experiences. I've been surprised by the process every step of the way. One thing that keeps hitting me is that there is just no fancy way to describe the loss of your closest loved ones. It's just plain sad. It catches you off guard with frequent, unwanted tears, a heavy burning in the chest and with a continual lump in your throat.
In so many ways, it seems our family should celebrate having survived and completed this year with so much purpose, hope and renewed faith. It brings honor to Dad that all of his grandkids have grieved deeply while also applying themselves to various endeavors with passion, intense focus and accomplishment. Mom honors him each day as she grieves with strength and grace and a focus on enjoying life and serving others. Still, as we approach the next few weeks of anniversaries I don't feel like celebrating. It just feels painful, a feeling that has become all too familiar to our family over the last 12 months. We did not grieve him over a period of years with a gradual decline in his health. He was snatched from us at his peak-- physically, professionally and socially. While visiting with Mom recently, I mentioned that I thought I would be further along in the process after a year (not expecting the same from her). Surprisingly, some of the hardest moments have been in the recent weeks and months.
This time of anniversaries marks one of the hardest, yet most wonderful years of life. On the home front, we grieved the loss of Dad while we entered "unfamiliar teen territory". This combination drove me to my knees in dependent & humble prayer. In the classroom, I savored the joyful days with a most exceptional group of students. Now, I have such mixed emotions as we anticipate another school year together. My first desire is to honor my Heavenly Father at home, work and play, but I also want to honor Dad and his memory as we mark a year without him in our lives. His legacy lives on in our family. He modeled a life of joyful service, hard work, passion and love for others. I have daily reminders of Dad's strong influence in our lives and I continually thank the Lord this blessing to our family.
"Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds." Hebrews 10:23-24
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