A post that was written but never published…until now

I was up early today and thought I’d write something about my time in Haiti. But then I saw this draft and for some reason I feel like it needs to be published.  Maybe someone who reads it will know why…….

Written April 22, 2015 at 12:49AM:

It’s been such a long time since I’ve been able to find words that express what life is like lately.  My last blog post was about one year ago. One long year ago.  My journal has gaps in it. Days, weeks, and months with not a single word to be found.  This post is full of pauses, wrestling to find a word, swirling thoughts.  It is work.

“Do you ever feel like life is flying by for others and you are standing still?” This was a question asked by an acquaintance who suffered a terrible loss almost two years ago.  Yes. I get it.  Sometimes I feel as though I am wearing Mike’s big waders schlogging through waist deep water, heading upstream; pulling a barge behind me…filled with coal.  Get the picture?! But it’s been 2 1/2 years! I should be “over it”! Life moves on!

I started a few posts about “the second year”. After a loss, the first year can be a blur. You have all those “firsts” to anticipate and get through.  But then the second year comes and the numbness of the first year has worn off. Now you get to go through the realization that the loss is permanent. And you start to wonder how you want to recognize each milestone.  Or not. You continue to work through the practical pieces of life without your loved one. Life goes on for those around you. Grief becomes more private. More internal. And then the “third year” comes. I had glimmers of this new life. There were some moments of familiarity. Something I had not felt in a long time.  I even started to feel that I was going to “make it”. Whatever “it” is.  And then the next shoe dropped.  Another loss.  Someone who was a mentor, father figure, and friend. I never thought another significant loss would come so soon.  It has rocked my world in a way that I do not even have words to describe.  There is silence. A very quiet time. The quiet I relished a year ago, the quiet that gave me rest, is not the quiet of today. It is a reminder. It is an empty quiet.

There is a tremendous desire to look back. To relive days gone by; what it was like. There is a tendency to look ahead. To imagine what life will look like. Neither helps. Both are overwhelming and evoke

And that is where the post ends.  It is fitting that the sentence was never finished because that is what life feels like sometimes. Words are elusive.  And I’ve learned that it’s ok.  For me, it is important to feel within that moment; to be willing to go to that place where it hurts, because I know that unless I feel that sorrow, I cannot experience the full depth of joy that life brings.  It is this work that I am committed to. It is a willingness to be uncomfortable and to have faith, believing that healing and strength will come from the momentary pain. I can say this with confidence because since this post was first written, I’ve experienced greater strength, joy, and peace than I ever thought possible.

Press on, friends.  You are not alone.  You are loved.

Letting Go….Again

This picture sums it up.  A couple of years ago, we wanted a new family picture; .  Red squeezed his way in; right in the middle. That’s where he wanted to be.  You can see how happy he was.

We go to the world’s greatest veterinarians. So kind. Their gift of mercy gave me the courage to take the step to let Red go. When all was said and done, I got in my car with his leash and collar.  This was exceptionally hard. You see, after Mike died, I took the risk to love this dog. And he loved me right back.  Yesterday, my heart broke.

As I drove out of the parking lot, this song came on. I do not believe it was a coincidence.  It reminded me that there is hope. My heart takes hope that one day I will be reunited with all those who have passed on; with all those whom I’ve loved.

And on that day, we will walk along the streets of gold.

 

Be brave.

 

Trust

“Assurance grows by repeated conflict….When we have been brought very low and helped, sorely wounded and healed, cast down and raised again…and when these things have been repeated to us and in us a thousand times over, we begin to learn to trust simply to the word and power of God.” John Newton

 

Trusting Chickadee



 

When Your Adult Children Grieve

Today my daughter runs.

She runs to honor her husband, Keith, who passed away nine months ago.  She runs because he loved running.  She runs to represent the struggle of her grief journey.  She runs because her two young vibrant children do not afford her much  time to grieve.  She is running with the community that was Keith’s professional community; which was also their family’s community. And she is running with friends.  They come from all over the map.  They trained for this day for months and now they are running together. With her, for her, for Keith, for the children. Today.  300+ miles away in Washington DC. she runs.  It is the Navy Air Force Half Marathon.

And I am not there.

And I am struggling with that.

A lot.

I woke up early. I am signed up for athlete tracker.  I stare at my email account.  No updates.  My imagination runs wild.  Where is she? How is her body feeling? Is she buoyed by race time excitement? Is she shedding tears? Most likely yes and yes. Although I was able to support her by watching the kids while she trained, it just doesn’t feel like enough.

After my husband passed away, another daughter wanted to hike Angel’s Landing in Zion National Park. One of the ways of grieving her loss was to bury some of her Dad’s ashes at the top. This was a hike they wanted to do together, but he was physically unable to. Determined to support her, and battling total fear I completed the task with her.

This mama bear wants to do anything and everything to protect her cubs.  How desperately I want to take away their pain from the deep losses they’ve experienced in their young lives.  After my husband’s death, I made a choice to grieve well; whatever that means.  I was determined not to run from the grief and all things associated with my husband,  but to allow the waves of sadness to come. To trust in the process of grief, having experienced it before. But it is so different when you see your adult children suffer.  Often times as Mom’s, we feel like we are doing a good job when we “make things better” for our children regardless of age. It cuts deep to know that I cannot do anything to fix this for my daughters. I cannot mend their broken hearts. I do not know how to ease their pain. But I do know Who can. He can provide constant help, love, and healing to my girls just as continues to do for me.

Mourning into Joy

As a parent of grieving adult children, there is no right way to do this. It is important for me to continue the work of adjusting to life as a single woman. And there is a balance to caring for myself and being available to care for my daughters and grandchildren.  I have not figured it out. Not even close.  But that’s OK.

And so I encourage Rebecca to run like Keith. And Molly to hike like Mike. I can love them through their struggles.  I can stand back and allow God and others to comfort them. And I can know that being present is enough.

 It is enough.

baby and camel

“She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.” Prov 31:25

The Second Year – An Anniversary

 

I believe in the way God knits two people together when they stand before him on their wedding day. Something sacred happens in that moment, something that will, with grace and intention and faith and hard work, build upon itself and grow in power and beauty and durability with each passing year.  Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet.

 

October 1984

October 1984

Today is our 30 year anniversary.  I am stunned at the thought of it. I remember the anniversary when we realized we had spent more of our lives together than apart. We talked about all the joys we experienced and the challenges we endured. I am not quite sure how to recognize this day anymore.  I feel weird referring to “our” anniversary when one of us is not here. It is one of those aspects of grief that makes no sense and has no answers. It is one of those awkward days when I want to shout and yell that for the past week, I have been remembering the days leading up to our wedding and that a part of me is missing.

As time passes, I realize that every day of remembrance whether it is an anniversary, birthday, or other special occasion, brings a deeper sense of loss, a sharper sense of the permanence of this new life I now have. I still wake up some days and shake my head in wonder. I still get easily distracted and don’t sleep very well. On the upside, I have a much larger capacity for life, but somedays I just need to clear the schedule and give myself time to breathe. I am incredibly thankful for all those family and friends who continue to walk with me through this crazy journey. It is a marathon.

I guess I don’t have to get too hung up on what I call this day. I just know it carries with it wonderful memories of a man who stood with me before God and witnesses and promised that “with grace and intention and faith and hard work” we would build a relationship of power and beauty and durability with each passing year. God honored that promise and I continue to thank Him for the gift that He gave to both of us. Happy Anniversary my friend.

Bermuda 2009

Bermuda 2009

 You Carry Me by Moriah Peters.

The Second Year – another birthday

To Love and Be Loved is the Greatest Joy on Earth.

Mohonk1 Mohonk2

Today is Mike’s birthday. It is one of those dry warm summer days with just the right breeze and puffy white “cartoon clouds” in the sky. I am sitting on our back porch; one of Mike’s favorite places. I have had no desire to sit out here – until today.  Mike has been gone 1 year and 10 months. It seems like so much longer. On another hand, we spent 30+ years together and so 22 months seems like nothing. Grief has a funny way to distorting time.

I am giving myself time and space to experience this day. As I sit here on the porch my heart is full of gratitude for the wonderful gifts that Mike gave me over the years. I am not referring to any specific birthday or Christmas gifts. Rather, the day in and day out gifts of Mike’s faithful friendship and love.  How blessed I am to have experienced this greatest joy in life.

I miss you my friend.

Celebrating Mike today with some of his favorite things – a hike in the woods, coffee ice cream, and his “girls”. (with Caleb of course…)

 

The Second Year – The Value of Hard Places

Angel's Landing

Angel’s Landing, Zion NP

“The pressure of hard paces makes us value life. Every time our life is given back to us from such a trial, it is like a new beginning, and we learn better how much it is worth, and make more of it for God and man. The pressure helps us to understand the trials of others, and lifts us to help and sympathize with them.” A.B. Simpson