Lead the Cheers!

During the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of high school, I worked at a Hot Dog on a Stick type of establishment in the mall. I had only been working there a few weeks when, on this particular day, I went to dip the batter-covered hot dog into the deep fryer, and the hot dog slipped right off its stick.

Instinctively, I reached in to grab it.

I probably don’t need to tell you that deep frying three of your fingers in 350 degree grease brings excruciating pain. Yet, there was nothing anyone could do for me — they couldn’t stop it from burning as far down as it wanted to go. While doctors, nurses and my mother stood by, we literally had to wait for the grease to burn down through nearly every layer of my skin (triggering every nerve ending along the way), until I was left with 2nd and 3rd degree burns on my fingers.

Grief feels the exact same way.

My relationship recently slipped off its stick and, as is the case with grief, nobody can reach in now and rescue me, or him, from this horrible pain. While incredibly supportive, everyone is standing around watching to see how I’ll respond knowing there’s nothing they can possibly do.

At the end of the day, this anguish is mine, and mine alone to bear.

Today, I deleted all the pictures of the two of us off my phone. There were over two thousand — two thousand memories and moments of laughter and play we shared these last three years. And now they’re gone. Okay, in the cloud, but still gone.

Memories, like pictures, have a way of letting us hold onto the things we love, the things we are, and the things we never, ever want to lose.

The problem here, of course, is that I can’t very well move forward without him if I’m constantly staring backwards at memories of the two of us together.

And so, it’s actually something he always said to me that is giving me some perspective now to try and take steps forward, as feeble as they may be…

Whenever I needed a pep talk or words of encouragement, he would say, “Lead the Cheers, babe!” It was his way of telling this pro cheerleader to lean into the problem, run towards the fire, and trust that I’ll be victorious — no matter how excruciating the burn — because I’m a girl who overcomes. 

And he’s right. I will overcome.

{Deletes all his photos from her phone while sobbing uncontrollably}.

We all have the option to choose our perspective every day.

I can let my circumstances and sadness staple me to this chair. Or, I can get out of my tear-stained bed, despite being broken in half, and make something of this day, something of this week and something of this life.

I’m not saying I’m going to stop grieving today. At this moment, I can’t imagine the weight of this grief ever lifting. 

Where there is deep grief, there was great love — And our love was pretty stinking great!

What I am saying, however, is that I, we, all of us, have the power to be bigger than our fears and stronger than our problems. Talking about what I’m going through in this public forum is one of the ways that I, personally, become stronger.

By sharing my anguish and grief, I’m disabling grief’s power over me a little — and leading the cheers out from under it so I can find my happy again. Eventually.

Not everyone processes pain and suffering this way. Some ball up in a cocoon, close themselves off from the world and drink themselves numb. I’m not that girl. I feel everything — fully, sober, and intensely — and, as such, I bring people into my “stuff” so they can help pull me out of it.

I want to thank you for standing by me these last couple of weeks as I’ve sat in this pain. I know there is nothing that you can do for me — because it’s mine to process. But the outpouring of love, scripture, prayers and support I’ve received has overwhelmed and soothed my soul.

I have a ways to go yet, but you can trust that regardless how difficult, I will lead the cheers out of grief’s grip. In the meantime, as I said two weeks ago, heartbreak is indeed heartbreaking.

Debbie