Tag: death

The Only Woman in the World

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May 24th, 2023

Husbands: True love is not about giving your wife the world. True love is about making your wife know that she is the one and only woman in your world. – Isaac Kubvoruno

Scott and I followed Isaac Kubvoruno on Facebook. He’s basically a Christian relationship guru and when I tell you that Scott took these posts to heart, I truly mean it. Honestly, from the day I met him, he already was this man, the one described in the quote. the one who knew exactly how to make me feel like I was the only one, before during and after, and that no one else had ever been created just for him. But he read these posts and wanted to be more like them. He wanted to be the perfect husband. I told him all the time that he was but he still wanted to be more. There are no perfect people (only one ever lived) but he was 100% perfect for me and no one else. And that is how I will always remember him simply because it was true. I just wish we had been able to have more time to enjoy it. ♥️💔

I Worship…so I will go take a shower.

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May 31st, 2023

I need to take a shower. I need to wash my hair. I need to shave my legs, it is summer now and my leggings are getting too hot. It became summer this past weekend. The first full season without you and I hate it. I hate it…I hate it…I hate it…

I need to, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to get up, get out of bed. I don’t want to face another day when you’re not here. I don’t want to cook or clean the house or feed the dogs or…or breathe if it’s not the air you’re breathing, too. I don’t want to…I don’t want to…I don’t want to…

Somehow I’m doing it. Somehow I am still breathing when you’re not here. I don’t want to leave here. I just want you here 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 me. I want to feel like anything I do matters when you’re not here to cheer me on, encourage me, remind me of my worth. I want…I want…I want…

I picked out the footplate for your grave yesterday. The military is honoring you with one. It will have your name, your war, your medals of valor listed on it. It will have your birthdate and the day you left us. It will say you were a loving husband, son, father, and a doting PopPop. I still have to pick out our headstone one day. I don’t want to…I don’t want to…I don’t want to…

I worship. God hasn’t given me a spirit of fear but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. The Lord is close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. My only comfort comes from Him. He is in the music. He is in the lyrics. He is in the pain. He is in the heartache. He eases them a little more, I’m sure a little more each day but it’s like watching the kids grow: you can’t see the changes day-by-day…only in retrospect. But I worship…I worship…I worship…

I worship. And so now I will go shower…

Dreamweaver…

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May 31st, 2023

Dreams…

I keep wishing, praying, hoping I will see you in dreams. Hear you say you love me again. Hear you say “it’s okay, we’ve still got this.”

I want to see your face again when it’s not in a still picture. Hear you laugh. Watch you take care of things…all the things: the plants, the dogs, the boys, the yard, the pool…all of the things you did because you just wanted us to be taken care of.

I remember being in the kitchen, last year, I think, looking out toward the pool from our picture window. I said “Look at how much pollen is on the window. It’s like a coating and it’s only March.” I kept doing whatever I was doing and then went in the living room, thinking you’d gone back in there. You weren’t so I thought you’d gone to the bedroom or bathroom. A few minutes later I got up to see where on earth you’d gone. Walking into the kitchen, I saw you outside, scrubbing down the window. I walked outside and said “Honey, I didn’t mean for you to do that. I was just commenting on the allergens!” You said “I know, but I wanted you to be able to see out. I know you love looking out this window. Your kitchen is the main reason we wanted to buy this house.” I never even had to ask for things like that. And you just did them for me.

Our contractor messaged me after you were gone and told me that, when he was walking around our new house with you to talk about the things we wanted to do, you told him “It’s very important to me that Jennifer feel safe and be happy in this house; whatever it takes to do that, that’s what we need to do.” 😭 That’s always who you were for me. He said he was so impressed by you and that it made him really think about things, even after he left the house. Both of those things were who you are. Someone who is just always taking care of people, especially me, and someone who makes an impact on others. You’re still making impacts today, baby; I hope somehow you know that now.

I’m still taken care of. You made an impact on our boys, too. They’re still looking back, observing who you were, and I see them being the kind of man you were in so many ways. Even when I wish they didn’t have to, they’re still picking me up after I fall apart again. And I know that will also translate into how they treat the other women in their lives. They were watching and it shows.

And God is taking care of me, too. I don’t know how I am getting out of bed every day, doing the things. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to. But even when I can’t feel Him, I know He is there, gently nudging me to move. He reminds me that I still have a purpose (even if I’m not fully aware of what that is yet.) I’m trusting that He will show me when He knows my body, my mind is ready.

I’ve tried bargaining with Him. Telling Him that if you would just come to me in dreams, I could learn what I’m supposed to be doing. That I would do a better job of going on without you here if He could just let me have “visits” with you. Even inmates get visits…why not me? But I also know that’s not how this works. This temporary separation for us is on His timeline. I told you that I was always told never to pray for patience but to pray for grace, because if you pray for patience, He’ll give you a reason to need it so you can learn it. (You use to joke that if you pray for patience, you may get more admissions…😂)

So I pray for grace. Grace in all circumstances. There’s a reason my middle name isn’t grace…I’m not very graceful. So I pray all the more.

My prayer life has been difficult lately. I have so many things I want to beg, plead, ask, and beg again. But the Bible says to praise Him in all circumstances and worship music comes with pre-written lyrics that I can feel when I listen, when I sing. So I’ve been trying to start there, even if I’m crying in the shower when I do. Salt water is good for the skin in moderate amounts, right? I’ve been thinking of buying a book with prayers in it for when you can’t pray, for prayers in times of grief and heartache and pain and loss. All of the things. Maybe that will help. It won’t be like some liturgy. I think that, if the right words are there, I’ll be able to feel them enough, like the music, to reach out to Him with my whole soul because my soul is wrapped around you right now.

I’m not praying to see you sooner (other than in dreams). Our kids and sweet grandbabies still need me here. I’m still just praying for grace, even when “God, give me grace in all circumstances. Help me to praise you in ALL of these circumstances” are the only words that make it out.

So, you see, it’s back to the dreams. Will you just come meet me there? Could you let me wake up, even one morning, with the feeling that your arms have been wrapped around me in the night? I feel like that would make all of the tomorrows more bearable. Even one last time until I see you again.

I love you more. I miss you most. ♥️

”Fly me high through starry skies

Maybe to an astral plane,

Cross the highways of fantasy,

Help me forget today’s pain.

Oh, Dreamweaver,

I believe you can get me through the night.

Ohh, Dreamweaver,

I believe we can reach the morning light.”

Dreamweaver by Gary Wright

The War Doesn’t End When Deployment Ends…

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May 30th, 2023

Yesterday was Memorial Day. 🇺🇸

My husband was a war veteran of the United States Air Force. He served two deployments during Desert Storm, also known as the Gulf War.

But the deployment doesn’t end…when the deployment ends.

We use to talk about how many people don’t understand the difference between Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day. That Memorial Day is for the fallen, the ones who sacrificed their lives for our freedom, the ones who died while they were serving. Veteran’s Day is for the Veterans who served and whom we honor, as they live, for their service.

But yesterday, all day, I contemplated something else.

There are men and women who did not die prior to their honorable discharge date. But some spent the rest of their lives living out the consequences of that service.

Statistics say that twenty-two veterans die each day in the U.S. as a result of suicide. Thankfully, that was never my husband. But didn’t those vets pay the ultimate price for service, too? The loss of peace, the night terrors, the pain, the fear until they didn’t know how to manage it anymore?

Scott lived with PTSD for the rest of his life after the war. As long as I’ve known him, he has had terrible nightmares and I’ve had to gently wake him, many, many times, to lift him from the darkness of them.

He lived his entire life after that war with the consequences of his service.

So, while Memorial Day isn’t for veterans like Scott, I will remember him and honor his service and his life every year on that day, too. Because he was still fighting a war inside his own head for as long as he lived.

When “We” Became “Me”

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Three weeks ago today, I drove you to the hospital. We waited for three hours in the waiting room and complained about how ridiculous it was that they told us to be there at 8:30 when they weren’t taking you back until 11:30. Oh, how I would love to have those three hours back again.

How has it been three weeks? It seems like you’ve been gone forever but, at literally the same time, it feels like I was holding your hand yesterday, alive and well, the only worry on your mind: getting this surgery out of the way so that you could go home with me and then get back to work soon. Back to feeling like yourself. Back to “normal.”

It should have been soon…if we’d have had the surgery on the original date, April 19th, things would have been so different. You’d be getting to take the neck brace off tomorrow and you would have been so excited to be free of it. The original surgery date was six weeks ago.

Instead, you were free of it much earlier but in a way none of us ever even imagined, never wanted…couldn’t stop. And now I look over at your side of the bed every night and say I love you and I miss you so much, to a blank space.

You’ve always filled in my blank spaces before. I didn’t want to ever get married again; you filled in a blank space I was trying to delete. I felt alone and worthless, ruined and a failure; you reminded me who I am and what I was worth, to you, to the kids, to God, and to the world. I didn’t know what my purpose was after kids graduating and retiring from nursing; you made me excited for all of the things that would now live in that blank space. There were no blank spaces when you were here. No matter what the challenge, the worry, the task at hand, you always said “We’ve got this, baby. Together, we’ve got this.” And then I always believed you. Simply because we were together. So…what happens now that “we” became a “me”?

All in all, the highs were worth the pain. You were worth it. We were worth it. I don’t know how “I’ve got this” without you but I do know that we always believed and knew that God was part of that we. It was never just us because, although it is obvious now how a strand of three cords can be frayed, it cannot be broken. And we cannot be broken because I’ll see you one day in Paradise.

I just didn’t think that would be the very next time I’d see you, three weeks ago today.

Losing You, Piece by Piece

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May 29th, 2023

I lost Scott’s wedding ring today.

Spoiler Alert: I found it later; don’t panic (like I did). And Godwink ahead if you choose to keep reading.

I have been wearing it on my thumb since the last day that I saw him. He gave it to me for safekeeping prior to surgery. I didn’t know I’d be keeping it safe for him forever.

It’s been a “worry stone” of sorts for me since I began wearing it. I use my other hand to twist it round and round nearly constantly. It’s a reminder of him. It’s something I have left of him, of us. He was so proud of it because I chose it for him and it has deer antler embedded into it. I chose it because it spoke to me, it said a little something about who he was. And he loved it because I chose it thoughtfully, specifically for him and likened to him and his tastes.

It’s really heavy. I wasn’t expecting that when I ordered it. Many times I have offered to buy him one of those silicone bands to wear while at work and he would always say, “No, I want to wear this one; you chose it with your heart and I want it with me.” He never took it off. But that day he had to.

When I realized it was missing from my thumb, I did panic. Owen said “Try not to panic, mama. It’s in this house; we will find it.” I knew I had been wearing it just beforehand, within the hour at least. I had cleaned out the fridge, putting some things in a large, black trash bag for garbage pickup tomorrow. I had loaded the dishwasher. I’d sat on the couch. I had fed the fish. And, as I cried, I searched each place, over and over again. I emptied the entire trash bag, piece by piece, onto my kitchen floor and searched and shook the entire thing, turning the bag inside out. My sweet Owen came and helped me turn over the couch and search between cushions. As I got discouraged, I said a few times “It’s okay. It’s lost, son. There’s nothing more we can do. Hopefully it will turn up soon.” But he kept searching and trying to help me retrace my steps, keeping me on task. I searched the trash bag two more times because, as heavy as the ring is, it should have made a loud noise if it hit the floor and rolled so falling in the trash bag made the most sense. All to no avail.

We finally stopped looking and I sat on the couch, staring into space and realizing that I had now lost another piece of him, even though it’s not actually him. A memento? A reminder? None of these seem right because it was chosen just for him. It belonged on him.

I agonized over whether to put it on his finger prior to the funeral. He never wanted to be without it. He wanted to wear it always. He would have wanted it on his finger. But ultimately I decided that my husband, above all else, wanted me to feel safe and happy. He was no longer in that body but I could keep this one little piece here with me and he would want me to if it brought me any measure of peace in his absence. And then I lost it. I lost his ring that he loved.

I’ve lost quite a bit of weight since May 9th. This morning I had been washing my hands and it nearly fell off. I thought, even my thumbs are getting skinnier…crazy. I nearly took it off then but I have become accustomed to having it on and I didn’t want to be separated from it. It’s strange how important tangible things are in the absence of love lost.

I rose from the couch, probably an hour later to go to the restroom. And, lo and behold, the ring was IN MY PANTS (not a pocket, INSIDE). Apparently, when I had gone to the restroom earlier and had used my thumbs to pull my leggings back up, the ring had gotten trapped by the waistband and just pulled right off, resting just under the waistband. When I completed the same action this time but to pull them down, my thumb slid right into the ring again. (Don’t ask me how I didn’t feel it there. I suppose my skin had warmed it and it was being held snugly by the elastic waistband.)

Such a long time of searching, just to find that it was with me all along but I couldn’t feel it because I was in a panic, fretful over my loss and despair.

Isn’t God like that, though? I can’t feel Him near me these days. I try to pray. I try to worship. I try to sing. I try to search for Him so that He will come near. I try the most likely places (like church) that He should be (although I know full-well that He is everywhere). I’m so distracted by my searching, in a manner of speaking, that I forget that, even though I can’t feel Him, He is still here, so close to me that His warmth feels like my own. So, maybe I am feeling Him but I’m just looking for a more tangible way to realize it. I feel like I need to SEE the evidence to know it for sure. But the real evidence is already there. The real evidence is that He has been there every other time, without fail.

One is the Loneliest Number

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May 28th, 2023

GRIEF TRIGGER WARNING (If you’re not in the mood for sadness this holiday weekend, continue to scroll, please.)

Loneliness is an odd sensation.

It can be ubiquitous and unwelcome while in a room full of people who are charming and kind. One can strongly desire to be rid of the feeling, but also have an aversion to speaking to anyone. It is not that you wish to hold onto it, but that you are unwilling, perhaps unable, to engage in the task that would alleviate it.

I don’t even actually know if this is truly loneliness or just an extension of the long arm of grief, a missing piece, a dark shadow. I feel as though I am alone, however, it may just be that the other half of me is absent, the part that made me complete.

Sometimes I think I feel “okay,” which is followed by intense guilt. It hasn’t been a month yet. How dare I almost feel “okay?” But then I realize it’s not actually okay, it’s that the numbness has returned, a quick-footed, protective guard in impenetrable armor who speeds in to the rescue when the dark gets…too dark. And then it feels a bit lighter again. That’s the “okay”.

Scott has been my best friend and partner for so long that my gait feels unsteady without him here. I’ve lived without him here, in this house, for periods of time. But this time I mean without him existing here with me in the same “realm”, on the same “plane of existence”…on Earth. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven… I wish you could still be here on earth as you are in Heaven. But after experiencing what it is like there, I’d never bring you back here, even if I could. It would be cruel to make you suffer the pain in this world after you’ve been there. But, oh, how it hurts for me, for all of us.

I know you’d hate it that we are sad. I know you’d be worried about me, your mom, the boys. So, I’m still glad there is no sickness, no sorrow, no pain where you are. That eases my mind when I think of it.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. (Philippians 4:8)

I keep trying to redirect my thoughts in this manner but the days are long and most times the nights are longer. And my heart can still feel that you are…missing. People keep saying you are with me, you live on in my heart, your spirit surrounds me, you’re watching over me. As much as I appreciate the attempts at kindness and compassion, such people have likely not experienced the gravity of such a loss as this. You do live on in my memories of you. Memories are of the past. They keep popping up in Facebook so you’ll keep being there, too, until some other social media overtakes the world’s attention.

But my heart knows you are no longer here. We cannot dream of the future together anymore. We cannot go together on the belated “honeymoon” we have already reserved for next year. We cannot plan out the wonderland our back yard was going to be for all of our grandchildren. I can feel your absence there, right in my heart. The fact that I love you is there but it feels like a balloon that has deflated and is devoid of air, of oxygen. It feels there, yet empty, barren, unoccupied, desolate.

Love is also an interesting thing. I remember wondering, when I was pregnant with Luke, how I would ever have room to love a child as much as I did Austin. By the time I was pregnant with Owen, I had it all figured out; you just grow more. And more again when you begin to love daughters-in-love and grandchildren. So, now I just need to figure out how my heart can be so full of so many and yet feel so destitute, so bewildered, so uninhabited, at the same time. I feel like an emotional amputee, learning how to function again in “normal” circumstances. And yet there is a part of me that just doesn’t even want to function. And there certainly is no normal.

I will. I will figure it out. I’m not a quitter. I’ve had to live much of my life as a warrior in one battle or another. The sound of swords clashing in spiritual warfare is not foreign to me. And make no mistake, this is spiritual warfare…all of it. I am mighty only because my God is. He lets me rest on the journey…or perhaps wallow…for awhile and then He always rouses me to my feet…from His arms.

I know where my help comes from. My help comes from the Lord, the maker of Heaven and Earth. Today seems like a good time to wave my white flag (to Him, not the enemy, ever.) I give up. I can’t do this alone. I’m terrible at it. Fight for me, Abba. You fight the shadows. And I will fight beside you, under the shelter of your wing.

Be A Wildflower

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May 28th, 2023

Two years ago, I got this tattoo when I was in Miami with Scott on one of many visits while he was on contract there. The simple things, like seeing this tattoo and knowing he was sitting right by me when I was inked, those things make me so sad now and then tears come out of nowhere. It makes me scared to go out in public because I don’t want to be a reason for people to stare, especially right now. And I don’t need pity. I just need him back.

Today I’m going to try to go back to church for the first time since…well, you know.

Scott had been looking forward to getting his surgery done so that he could go to church with us again. The last two and a half months, he had been in too much pain from his injury to get ready and then to sit in straight-backed chairs for a whole service.

I don’t know if I’ll make it through a whole service today. I’m going to try. I’ve looked up what series they’re doing now and it’s not on anything like marriage so I’m hoping to make it through.

Most days I’ve gotten out of bed. Most days I’ve gotten dressed. Today I brushed my hair and put on tinted moisturizer and just a little waterproof mascara because I know I have to learn to do the normal things again without him here. Most of the time, it feels pointless since he’s not here but I can’t let my feelings determine the worth of what’s left of my life. I’m still here so God says it’s worth it. He says there is purpose in it. And because he loves me, He says that one day there will be joy and not only darkness.

There have been times I have felt worthless, as a person, but God said different. Today, I’m giving God the opportunity to say different about what time is left in my life, even if it’s a whisper. Today, I am a wildflower warrior.

***EDIT TO UPDATE: Today we sang “There’s Another in the Fire” as part of the worship music. “There’s a grace when the heart is under fire,
Another way when the walls are closing in.
And when I look at the space between
Where I used to be and this reckoning,
I know I will never be alone.

There is another in the fire
Standing next to me
There was another in the waters
Holding back the seas
And should I ever need reminding
Of how I’ve been set free
There is a cross that bears the burden
Where another died for me”

I cried. I raised my hands to praise Him in this storm. “You are who You are, no matter where I am. And every tear I cry, you hold in your hands. You’ve never left my side, and though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm.”

I cannot pray right now. No matter what I do, the words won’t come. But I will sing.

And I still want to just be a wildflower…actually, I guess I’ve been one for awhile.

And, just so you know a little bit about what’s “behind” the tattoo:

May 28th, 2021

I got a new tattoo.

It’s wildflowers.

Wildflowers aren’t planned; they aren’t even meant to be there.

But they still have a purpose, even if they are weeds. They are still beautiful despite what people may think because God created them just as they are.

They were already a part of His plan. And despite the struggle, they keep coming back. No matter what mows them down or plucks them up, they rise again, reaching for Heaven. Wildflowers are warriors.

Be a wildflower.

Nothing is without meaning and purpose.

May God, the source of all hope, fill you with all JOY and PEACE, by means of your FAITH in Him, so that your hope will continue to GROW by the POWER of the Holy Spirit.
~ 𝓡𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓼 15:13

Heal Loudly

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May 27th, 2023

Healing loudly can also help heal others. Reading about others’ grief has helped me to know that I’m not crazy, or alone, or completely losing the plot while walking this road. I intend for others to receive the same from me. Not just on this road but on other paths I’ve walked, as well. The journey may be hard but it doesn’t have to be walked alone. God’s there, but other people are more tangible sometimes and help remind you that He is, too.

Gift from Heaven, First Class Mail…

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May 26th, 2023

I lost it today. Fully lost it.

The mail came. I got a notification that a package had been delivered and I didn’t order anything. But I’ve gotten a couple of things that someone has sent from Amazon in kindness over the last couple of weeks so I figured that’s what it was.

You’re guessing what happened because you’ve seen it in some movie somewhere. Because this kind of thing only happens on the Hallmark Channel. But it did.

He sent me a gift. 😭💔

I opened the package and there was an envelope inside. I opened it and that’s when it happened. The floodgates opened but so did the ache in my heart explode.

It said, “Love, Scott”

I can’t explain the plethora of feelings that overtook me then. I started hard, ugly-cry, sobbing, folding over into myself. This is it, the last gift ever. The last surprise. The last…the last…the last…. When I tell you I cried, I mean that it was a hurricane of emotion pouring out, felt like my soul was shaking, felt like an emptying of my spirit…felt like…loss. And beauty, all at one time. It was tumultuous.

Scott used to randomly go on Amazon and pick something out of my “saved for later” queue and have it sent to me. Sometimes he would be home when it came. Sometimes he would be in Miami or New Hampshire, or North Carolina. A cute pair of sandals. Earrings. Something I’d been wanting to get for Lillian before she was even here. A dress. An air fryer. There would be no occasion. He just wanted to literally spoil me. He just wanted to give to me. He just wanted to love me and make sure I knew it, all the time. And this is the last.

There was a cute wooden box inside. I had trouble opening it. Luke & Patrice were here so Luke had his arms wrapped around me as I tried to reel it in, the tidal wave of emotion that was drowning me. Patrice cried, holding Lillian, in the other chair. When I did get it open, a silver chain and charm were inside. The side I saw first was his fingerprint. He left a piece of himself for me. The flip side was engraved: “I love you more. 3/21/17,” our marriage anniversary.

I know it was from him. Not some well-meaning family member or friend. I know a lot of people say I love you more but it came from China or Thailand or something. That stuff always takes weeks and weeks to get here. No way someone ordered it a week ago. We didn’t even get his body back to the funeral home until last Saturday so there was no time for someone to get his fingerprint and have it sent. It was 100% from him.

I love that he was thinking of me. I love that he was so thoughtful in his choice of gifts, as he always was. He was always very sentimental. This present just shows exactly who Scott was. Exactly how he treated me and loved me. But, oh, how it still hurts. It hurts so much because it was the last one and my life will never be the same. I will find a way to pick up and carry on for my family but a part of my life is irrevocably changed in a way that I hate. I want him back so badly. He should be HERE, with ME. He should be here. And that just hurts. 💔💔💔

I swear my life with Scott WAS just like a movie on the Hallmark Channel, although now it feels like it should be on Lifetime. I always said we had our very own fairytale.