June 16th, 2023

Loneliness is something I never thought I’d have to face again…or, at least, not for a long, long time. You always told me that you would go first, because of statistics for longevity of men and women, and you always said you were glad because you didn’t want to live without me ever again. I’d get aggravated with you when you talked like that because, if that were true then I would be the one left here.

And here we are…so, so, so much too soon.

I told you that if you left for Heaven first then I hoped I had dementia by then and that I’d wake up every day thinking you were still here, asking people “Have you seen my husband? He should be home from work any minute now…”

I used to teach in my Alzheimer’s & Dementia classes that you shouldn’t correct your patient when they said something like that. I taught them never to say “Don’t you remember? John died in a car accident 40 years ago.” I told them this, not just because it is the appropriate standard of practice for dementia but, most especially, because it makes people crumble. The look on someone’s face when you say this is the dawning of what must be the exact same expression they had when they opened the door to the Highway Patrol Officers on that fateful night. It pours over them like a deafening, thunderous waterfall. It is having to relive the worst moment of your life over and over again, every single day. Not telling them over and over every day is an act of sheer compassion. “I’m sure he’ll be home soon. Probably got stuck in traffic. Go have your breakfast while you wait.” (Don’t worry; they forget they’ve been waiting while they’re eating and then say something like “My husband just left for work; he’ll be home before supper.”

Fast forward to today. I wake up some mornings, for just a few seconds, feeling “normal.” I reach for you on your side of the bed before I even open my eyes and then a mad shuffle of my hands reveals only the tissue box and a pile of dried, salty tissues from the night before.

My mom brought a gigantic multi-pack of tissues from Costco the day we got home from the hospital. There must have been 14-16 full size boxes of Kleenex. I thought at the time, “Well, that’s overkill.” Turns out it wasn’t. Note to self: don’t forget to buy more Kleenex soon. Other note to self: go to Costco/Sam’s next time someone dies…it will probably be more helpful than they’ll realize.

Grief makes people uncomfortable. That’s why you wait until they’re all gone to release it. You have moments when you feel tears coming on and you vacuum them back in; your body, your heart feels like an empty vacuum anyway.

In the morning I try to fill that vacuum void with Jesus. I have praise music playing now, my self-created “Brave” playlist on Apple Music that I have created over years of things that I needed courage to face. If you are in a place where you need some and you have Apple Music, let me know and I’ll send it to you.

When I finish my musings here I will go open Jesus Calling for today’s date and will then read the next installment of “Grief Bites: A New Approach to Growing Through Grief” in my Bible App. If you’re a runner (I’m decidedly not but I have friends who are 🤷🏻‍♀️) you fuel up before a long run. You make sure your body has the energy to make it through the distance you plan to overcome. For particularly difficult races, you stop at intermittent fueling stations and give your body hydration and a few more calories to have what it takes to complete (but not so much that you vomit.)

Today is a race; every day is a long-distance triathlon now. It’s not a race where speed is the goal, but endurance. Making it through another whole day without running out of fuel is paramount to anything else I’m trying to do right now. If I don’t wake up and fuel my faith in the morning, I will wind up in a heap of misery before dusk. This isn’t to say I don’t shed tears, but that I will be able to mold the grief into something that looks, and sometimes even feels, like strength. The only way I can do that is by starting my day off with reminders that I am not in this race, on this course, alone even when no people are here.

Hebrews 12:1
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us

2 Timothy 4:7
I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

Isaiah 40:31
but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

James 1:12
Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.

Psalm 119:31
I run in the path of your commands, for you have broadened my understanding.

Romans 5:3-4
Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.

1 Corinthians 9:24-26
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air.