Canada · Christmas · COVID-19

The Things I Cry Over

One thing that has shocked me lately are my tears.

They just don’t make sense.

This week I have gone through alot. We all have. Most people either know someone sick, hospitalized or dead from COVID-19. Or someone about to crack mentally from all the restrictions. We are all maxed out: Physically, emotionally, and mentally. Even the kids.

I have gotten no answers about my health, although right now my pain is almost gone. I literally checked for my COVID-19 test results every minute for three days straight until at last the news came:

Yay! My family is free to go to school and work again. Though I am still stuck home because I have nothing essential to do outside of the house.

Now, one would think it not possible, but here in Manitoba further restrictions have been made. Deaths are happening everyday and so I understand why… but I still don’t agree with it all.

Not being allowed to have one person over? Or shop for Christmas gifts. Not being able to go to my dear husband’s grandma’s funeral (not even a drive by funeral) because they are restricted to five people?

My husband’s sweet grandma died this week (not from COVID), but though there was pain in my heart, not one tear fell. Later that day, we tried to set up the Christmas tree. It looked ugly and the lights were broken.

I bawled.


I chatted with some friends, and they shared some very painful struggles. Unimaginable situations are happening all around the world. Really hard things. Mental health issues, financial strain, separation from loved ones, marriage struggles.

Yet no tears fell.

This morning our coffee maker broke. I wept as if I lost a dear friend.

Why is it that I am crying over insignificant, replaceable, material things – but my tears don’t come over the things that really break my heart?

I think, perhaps, because it’s easier.

My mind knows the problem when the Christmas tree lights don’t work. What it doesn’t know, is how to sort out all my feelings with the sickness, the stress and the world being shut down.

Holidays are approaching, but Christmas is the furthest thing from my mind. All gatherings have been cancelled. There will be no Christmas programs, or sleigh rides. Local stores are no longer allowed to sell non-essential goods, for we are trying to keep shopping numbers down. So no walking through the isles with Christmas music in the background, shopping for presents.

We have no plans for the foreseeable future. Nothing to look forward to. The day to day toil of trying to help my kids process their complicated emotions, while pushing my own aside has me on edge.

I’m stuck at home, when I’d rather be anywhere else.

It all doesn’t make sense.

But a broken coffee maker, that my mind can grasp.

I’m sure the professionals out there would have a highly sophisticated term or explanation for these random tears of mine.

I just call it grief.

17 thoughts on “The Things I Cry Over

  1. I hear you dear Heather and I too was upset that you couldn’t even sit in the car at the graveside service, or walk thru Birchwood 6 feet apart for a goodbye viewing for grandma, but yet you can walk thru a grocery store to pick up milk. My dear what was essential is that you took the time to sing at your visits with her, you showed her that you cared and that she mattered❣️ Now you & I along with others, must honour her memory by being strong in God’s strength & as we rest in His loving comfort, let’s pour some goodwill into other’s lives💕…but first let’s pour a cup of fresh coffee!! (I have an extra coffeemaker you can borrow…please don’t buy one, unless you want me to return your gift) 🎁 🥰🤗

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Mom. I know this is hard for you too and I wish I could give you a big hug. Maybe soon 💗
      I’m trying out my fixing skills with the coffee maker today. 😬 Will let you know if I need a backup.


  2. I think you hit the nail on the head when you said what you are experiencing is grief. Grief is an unusual beast that manifests itself in unexpected ways and times. I found myself going through a strange season of delayed grief expression when COVID restrictions were placed on our area. Although the restrictions didn’t last long, things beneath the surface arose to the top. We often find ourselves literally crying over spilled milk while we seem untouched by bigger things. Such is grief, but we have the beautiful truth that our tears and grief matter to God. May you find comfort in that during this extremely difficult time.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Thanks Matt. It’s sure hard to process all the emotions going on. And everyone’s feeling it.

      Schools got shut down yesterday as well. Each day when I think things can’t get worse, they do. There’s a few optimistic people who still think we will get a good Christmas. I’m really doubting that. 40% of COVID-19 tests in this area are coming back positive. 😔

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I find myself shutting down and searching for quiet, for peace. I’m not sure if it’s the pandemic, or just being stuck at home and overwhelmed with the typical mom things. But sometimes I can’t even bring myself to play a game with my kids; I just want to lock myself in a room!

    Yesterday morning I went to a few stores while my boys were at school/preschool and did a bit of Christmas shopping. I had no idea these further restrictions would happen today, but I’m glad I got out when I could.

    This is the first time since the pandemic began that I wonder if the restrictions have gone a little far. I am supportive of being responsible and limiting the spread. But really? Not being permitted to allow a single person to walk in my door? Not being able to pick up a book for my son while I do my grocery shopping? I wonder how long it will be like this.

    I hope you will get some time to process your thoughts and feelings Heather! It sounds like so much that is on your mind!

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Yup. It’s getting crazy….Now schools closed too? That doesn’t make a huge difference to me, but it does to my older kids. That’s the one thing they could still have to look forward to and keep them busy each day.
      It’s hard being in the place where there is literally nothing on the calendar to look forward to. As funny as it sounds, I am waiting for it to get cold so we can make a rink already.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Hey, Heather. I agree that it’s hard to process it all. I feel angry about the extreme restrictions, which seem illogical. I feel like the government is on a major power trip. But at the same time, I feel numb. I don’t have enough emotional energy to fight. I sit, helpless, wondering how much worse it can get because we’ve already got neighbors turning on neighbors, people calling each other stupid because we don’t all agree. This should be bringing out the best in us – especially Christians – but I see so much yuck. I’ve been watching WAY too much TV/movies lately with my kids because I’m just tired of even thinking about it. The grief is too much.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Thank you for sharing. I’m having a hard time coming up with a “comment.” I hear you completely but don’t know what to say. But isn’t that how it normally is for people grieving? It’s so hard to know what to actually say. 2020 has shown clearly that the world is broken. We all are grieving. Let’s cry; wipe our tears; and get up and face tomorrow. Or…let’s not cry…I understand…tears don’t seem to make sense but I sure am thankful we are able to cry…I find it helpful even when it doesn’t make sense. Keep on keeping on.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I read that we are experiencing ambiguous loss. Now you can look up the term and Google-diagnose. 🙂

    I agree that you’re sad over the little things because you are closest to them and you can handle that size of worry. Plus, with the restrictions in place, a broken coffee maker means replacing it might be difficult.

    The only thing that’s helped me is to mentally shape my world of control. It’s a lot like if you go camping and find you’ve forgotten to pack something, then forgotten something else. You have to shape the trip differently. So, you swim in your underwear because you don’t have suits; you cook the chili in the metal serving bowl for lack of a pot; you skip the hike (no socks) but enjoy a sunset drive.

    In March, I rearranged the furniture. Well, okay, it took me a month or two of hating the feng shui of the house (that means it was cluttered and messy and decorated with laundry). I planned the outings we could have. …I also panic-purchased as a coping mechanism. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It’s interesting that you mention control, because I’ve been thinking a lot of control this week. What do I still have control over? And what is out of my control? When you start sorting it into categories of “control” and “no control” it really helps to gain a sense that there are many things I can still do in my situation.

      We found out that our whole family has Covid this week (we ALL got it). Probably from my ER trip, as we’ve been no where else (because I had just gotten over a different virus so we were isolating then as well). So I haven’t really left our home for the past two weeks and I have another week to go… it’s hard to stay positive these days. But I guess one good thing is now we’ve literally been through COVID and we’re still all ok. It’s hard to find anything to look forward to anymore.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. On the bright side, now you’ve gotten what everyone’s feared so it’s only up from here!

        We quarantine for two weeks, here. Is it three weeks for you guys?


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