unexpected loss

I had the surgery. My body took time to adjust. Things did get a little better—but my life will never be the same. There are foods I simply cannot eat—or can only eat in very small portions. I have a scar that gives me pain from time to time. When I look at my body, it's different. And, I feel different. It's not a physical feeling. It's emotional. There's a part of me missing. A part that was doing a valuable job.

Food has always been important in my life. I started cooking and baking when I was five years old. My mother used to plop me on the counter top while she cooked or baked, because I enjoyed helping her so much. Food has been a part of my identity. And, with the loss of my gallbladder that identity has been impacted.

I knew I might have to make some changes following my surgery. But, I didn't take into account the grieving I would go through. It snuck up on me one day, when my wife was eating a food I could no longer have. I felt a sadness stir in my gut. And there it was: I knew had to grieve this change.

We are beautifully designed to get through difficult situations. Often, this beautiful design means that our awareness of loss comes later. And, when this happens, the grief can take us by surprise.