A person who is regarded as inadequate or impaired in some way. If you search the meaning of “damaged goods” that’s what you’ll find. Google should really scratch that definition and just enter my name because I am probably the perfect definition for Damaged goods lol.
For months I really believed being alive was so painful. Waking up felt worthless, like the day had turned over and I was drowning all over again. I remember feeling so suffocated from life like I could never catch my breath. Showing up to events sometimes took every ounce of courage in my bones, and sometimes it still does. Even as time passes the weight of missing my person still brings exhaustion. I wish people knew that when you’re grieving instead of actually being ok you pretend because it’s easier than pouring out all your pain to the next person that asks how you are.
It is one thing to grieve the person you loved and another letting go of the future you envisioned you would have together. Grieving the things that never happened was entirely a different aspect I had no idea I would face. Then there’s the Dreaming new dreams, establishing new goals without him.
James would joke about having 7 kids and I’d always roll my eyes. Although I never agreed to having 7, we did in fact talk about having our third baby. Maybe we would have had our third in our arms if things didn’t turn out the way they had. Every now and again I catch myself watching my two babies and feel a deep ache. Not just because their dad isn’t here but because we longed to grow our family. I wasn’t ready to end my mummy era of carrying another child. This part I have cried many months over, mostly surprised that it was even something I would grieve so deeply. Next to losing my husband this was the most challenging chapter I have had to come to terms with.
For months I would sob at the reality of having to say goodbye to a part of me I wasn’t ready for and found it difficult to speak about because it felt so silly. Having my two children never took away the gratitude I have for them, but it also doesn’t take away the sorrow I have closing this chapter. The part where you have to say goodbye to the things of the future you desired deep in your heart but haven’t happened yet. I think for most mothers who have had multiple children can gage when your last child will be, but this was taken away without choice. In the last year many have commented on how I am young and how “anything could happen”, as if it could easily be fixed. These comments sadden me. Because I grieve for a child that was never born, an addition to our family with the love of my life not just anyone, I grieve not being able to grow another baby again, I grieve not being able to give my daughter the baby she continues to ask for when I physically can. Who knew letting go of what could have been would be just as hard as saying goodbye to what was.
I suppose anyone who has ever known grief has felt the uneasiness of also letting go of what could have been. I used to think my life was over when I lost James. That nothing else could ever become of me because I already had everything in the palm of my hands. Damaged goods with nothing else left.
Then I thought about how God only used damaged goods for his purpose. Rahab a prostitute, Paul a former persecutor, Jonah the runaway Prophet and so many more. Then there’s me, the Widow that was angry at him for months lol
The truth is, it’s easier for me to believe that there is nothing else left for me than to believe that God is still writing my story. It’s easier for me to lose hope than to give hope to the next person. It’s easier to deal with grief going off the rails than being intentional with choosing to heal. You never know if your story is tied to someone else’s breakthrough or how you could be evidence of the hope that God gives. I am grateful that even in a place where I lost hope, I can still find it in God.
If he can still use damaged goods like me, he sure can use you too.
He’s not finished x
29 & Widowed