Tag: husband

Joy Isn’t the Same as Happiness

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June 25th, 2023

I used to love to read.

I’d get caught up in a story and my amazing husband would get aggravated with me because he would want to do something in real life while I was caught up in something fictional and I’d be like “Okay, yes, I know…but just let me finish this chapter, please…I CAN’T stop here…”

I really loved to read.

And now I just can’t love it.

I’ve changed books multiple times. I’ve looked up “books you’ll love if you enjoyed _ (insert name of other book that had captivated me here.)” I’ve started and stopped and started and stopped. Nothing works.

Food is like that, too. I’ve found it somewhat amusing (I guess maybe that’s the word for it) that many of the things that have caused me to nearly have full-on breakdowns have been various food items. Scott and I were definitely foodies so meals took up a good bit of our thoughts and conversations. When we traveled, we used to look up “Diners, Drive Ins, and Dives” to see if they had featured any restaurants in the area where we were visiting and try to go there. My #1 favorite place to go in Miami was Atelier Monnier French Bakery. I’d get an almond croissant (it doesn’t just have almonds on it and in it, it’s a whole experience all its own) and Scott would get a chocolate covered one.

Now food doesn’t taste the same. I don’t long to try fun and exciting cuisine like I used to. My mouth doesn’t water just thinking about…well, anything. I have to force myself to eat a piece of bread with peanut butter just to throw down some protein so that I won’t feel faint…usually after I start feeling faint. And that’s just because I literally don’t think about food until then.

It often feels like the “life” has gone out of life.

I’ve wanted to go to Heaven for a long time. I wasn’t in a rush to get there or anything. I enjoyed being here most times and was (and am) thankful for all that I have here. But I knew that was where I wanted to be after all of this. Before Scott came along, my boys were my Heaven on Earth. They were what tethered me here. Once Scott showed up, he was a big part of that thing that almost felt like Heaven here. I know real Heaven will be so much greater but it’s the closest I could imagine with my human mind. In fact, he made me feel like he’d been what was missing all along. My Missing Piece (a’la Shel Silverstein…if you haven’t read it, you should.)

As I felt the boys doing what we teach kids to do, becoming independent of me, Scott showed me that I was still going to be okay here when they all learned to fly from my cozy nest. I always knew I’d still have my baby boys but I also knew how different life was going to be without the continuity of raising them. Without the busyness of parenthood. Scott got me excited about what the future looked like. We were LOVING having a granddaughter and looking forward to the next one coming. We had BIG plans for what grandparenting would look like but also big plans for so many other things.

There is still a payment plan sitting around waiting for funds to be added again for our belated honeymoon next year. We were going on an all-inclusive vacation out of the country and we were counting down to it. I haven’t even asked yet if they’ll return the money we’ve already sent. I just can’t. That will mean it’s really cancelled. And I don’t want to go but I can’t bring myself to call and cancel it either.

So many of the things I used to want to do, they just don’t hold any spark anymore. They don’t hold joy. I still love being a Lolly (a grandmother) but it is bittersweet so often because he should have been here doing it with me. Lillian and Emory will never even remember him.

God intends for all of us to live abundant lives. John 10:10 says “The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy. I [Jesus] came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full, till it overflows.)” The thief is the enemy. And he did steal, kill, and destroy successfully. All of it.

But God is still here. He is successful, always, in His own endeavors. Revelation 1:8 says “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End,” says the Lord, “who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty One.” He was, and is, and is to come. He was here when I was happy. He is here while I mourn. He will be here, with me, until it is time for me to go to Him and worship Him “in person,” and then the bonus plan is that I can see Scott, too.

But God’s desire for me 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 is that my joy may be complete. “I have told you these things, that My joy and delight may be in you, and that your joy and gladness may be of full measure and complete and overflowing.” (John 15:11)

Scott isn’t here anymore, but that doesn’t mean that my joy cannot be complete. (Side note: I worship Jesus; I do not worship Scott as my husband…although I was extremely fond of him. Jesus makes my joy complete. What I mean here is that, without following the plan that God had for my life, my joy would not have been complete, lest anyone misconstrue my intent.) If I had never met Scott (as God designed) then my joy would not have been complete. He was part of God’s plan for my life. I cannot imagine the last ten years of my life without him and, even through the pain of losing him, I’d never want to. Even if I’d known I’d lose him, I would never want to have missed out on what he brought into my life. But even now that he is gone, I will still have joy.

Ephesians 3:20 says “Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us,” God has a plan to give us exceedingly abundantly MORE than we ask or think…and, before I met him, I had given up on finding anyone like Scott in my life. God brought me that joy anyway. (And understand that you can have JOY while not actually feeling happy…but that’s another story for another day. And that’s why I say it’s still possible without Scott here.)

For today…it’s after midnight so it is already Sunday, the Lord’s day…I will be grateful for my joy. Our children are part of my joy. Our grandchildren are part of my joy. Scott was part of my joy. And somehow, although I cannot see a glimmer of it yet, my future on this Earth is part of my joy.

Missing My Heartbeat

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June 19th, 2023

I went to the next town over to eat lunch with a sweet friend today and so I drove around thirty minutes home afterwards. As I was on the way home, a song I like came on. I turned it up…loud. This used to drive Scott crazy so I didn’t do it often when he was in the car but sometimes you just need to hear a song LOUD. You need to feel it inside of you.

One of the biggest selling points when I bought my vehicle was that it came with Bose speakers. There’s nothing like it. An old dirt road, sunroof open (not today, it’s rainy), and good music. Singing at the top of your lungs. It feels like freedom and sunshine and sparkles and love sometimes. All things good.

But today, as it rained, I turned it up loud and this particular song had a strong bass beat. The kind that, when you turn it up, you feel that beat in your chest. The vibration, for me, is soothing. It’s like the presence of something that you can feel but cannot see: music, rhythm, love, joy, peace, God. All of these are things you cannot see but can feel their presence.

Today, that rhythm suddenly felt like my heartbeat. And I realized it was the first time I have felt my heartbeat in over a month.

I’m not exaggerating when I say Scott still made my heart beat faster when he wrapped his arms around me and told me how much he loved me. I could physically feel what some people describe as butterflies but, for me, was the pitter-pat of my heart speeding up. I’m no young, spring chicken so some of you would think that’s something I should have had checked out but my heart is fine, physically. It just recognized his nearness.

Today, as that beat vibrated in my chest, I remembered how much I’ve missed that feeling.

We were not perfect. We weren’t the perfect couple. We fussed and argued sometimes. We got aggravated with each other. We said sorry. We got used to each other’s quirks and peculiar idiosyncrasies.

What made us perfect for each other is that we both wholeheartedly believed that this was forever. We knew we were in it and there was no backing out. There was safety and trust in our togetherness. I could be in a mood and act like a brat; he wasn’t threatening to go anywhere and I knew he wouldn’t. He could be in a mood and be negative and uncompromising; I never said I’d leave and he knew I never would. Now, we both tested those boundaries a bit early on because we’d been through some difficult relationships and situations prior to meeting each other. Long before we decided to get married, we talked at length and decided there would be no backing out. And then, neither of us took advantage of that promise by doing things to hurt the other. We took the commitment, the covenant, seriously.

There is always going to be something that you don’t like about someone. Sometimes Scott could be negative. He would say he was being a realist. I would say he was jaded by past circumstances. I’m generally an eternal optimist. I give people the benefit of the doubt too often sometimes and that bothered Scott because he didn’t want people to hurt me. His “realist” would butt heads with my “idealist” a lot of times. We decided that, rather than separate us, we would allow it to balance us. Opposites attract sometimes because you need each other. You can choose to let those things balance you or to let them tear you apart depending on whether you’re willing to meet in the middle.

Missing my heartbeat does make me sad but I’m not in a dark place today, not now anyway. I told my sister that I know that the grief won’t really shrink but that I hope that life grows bigger around it. I hope we can learn to weave it into our lives and use it to help someone else rather than trying to cut it out. Cutting it out would feel too much like forgetting the people who were so important to us. I want to use it to remind me every day that unexpected things happen. They can happen today or tomorrow. So I want to tell everyone that I love them, frequently, and I want to share the things I want them to know. I hate this thing called grief but there has to be something to salvage from it. I want to use it as fertilizer (like we use cow manure that you couldn’t use in any other way, the excrement that would otherwise be waste) to grow something worthy of being thankful for.

Unfairness

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I’ve made it through two graduations, Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, and now Father’s Day.

There is something inside me that wants to sit down and count how many holidays (including birthdays) are in a year and start counting them backwards. Like, if I can get through one of each of them, it’s suddenly going to be easier. In the past I’ve heard people say that all of the firsts are the hardest. Now that I’m in this place, people who have lost husbands are telling me, “Oh, no…I feel like the second year is harder than the first…”. I want to say “NO!!! You can’t go changing the rules now! That’s not fair!” because I just want it to stop hurting so much every day.

Not fair…so much is “not fair” about this. When I was a kid and I’d complain about something being “not fair” my daddy would say “Life is not always fair and school is not always interesting; that’s just how it is.” That’s just how this is. It’s not fair.

I’ve complained to God before that it wasn’t fair for Scott to be taken away from here when there are other people on this earth whom it would have been more “fair” to have gone away. Instantly, God said “Jen, that’s all about perspective. He was good, yes. And he is in Heaven, with me. He’s happy, free, worshiping, and in no pain or emotional distress. That’s fair, right?” Me: (grumbling, begrudgingly, under my breath) “Well, I 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 if you put it that way then, yes, but from where I am seeing it, it doesn’t feel like that.” God: “Then shift your perspective.” Me: teenagery (((sigh)))

Sometimes I don’t want to shift my perspective. I want to sit in the “unfairness” of it all and be mad about it. It’s odd that I don’t want to change my perspective because I DO want to feel better. I hate this constant sadness. I don’t want to feel this way forever. But I already know that I’m going to have to work through the fact that I don’t have to feel guilty for feeling better one day. He’s not here to enjoy the things I will enjoy, that 𝘸𝘦 should have enjoyed, so how can I be happy about that? I wonder if he could be up there thinking he shouldn’t be enjoying it there because I’m not there to enjoy it with him yet? Aha…no, he’s not. There is no pain or sorrow there, so there is no guilt. He is happy. He is enjoying it. His perspective has changed.

There is a specific paradigm shift that I need to lean into. A new way of thinking is necessary. I do miss him. I miss him so much each day and in so many circumstances. And yet, I am still here. I have to shift my perspective to a place where I can see this from a different vantage point. If I had gone first, I would not have wanted him to stay sad and be unable to enjoy the rest of life. Of course, I would want him to remember me; remember the love we had, remember the smiles and the laughter and the joy we brought to each other. But I hate even thinking about how sad he would have been.

We were supposed to spend the rest of our lives together.

Instead, he spent the rest of his life with me.

He gave me everything he had until his final day. He gave me all the love, all of the security, all of the protection, all of the happiness, all of the “Scott” he had left in him until the day he left this Earth. What more can you possibly give besides “the rest of your life?” We certainly never knew how short that would be but he gave me all of it, the rest of his life.

That’s a whole change in perspective, all by itself.♥️

One Month Down…Forever to Go

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June 10th, 2023

Today is the 10th. Scott left me on this earth to go to his Heavenly home on the 10th. So it’s been a month today.

Today is my nephew, Judah’s, birthday. He would have turned 15 today.

And time doesn’t make any sense. My sister said this on the night Judah died and I thought I understood what she meant but I didn’t, not fully. Now I really get it.

All at once, literally at the same time, it feels like they’ve been gone for so very long and yet I cannot believe it has been this long already.

The very first day it felt like every five minutes I would look at my watch thinking hours must have passed…but no, just another five minutes. The days have felt like they took forever to pass…and then, again, at the very same time, it felt like they were speeding by as I realized how much time we had already spent here without them.

I miss my husband. I miss his smile, his laugh. I miss him making me laugh. I miss reaching across the bed and feeling him laying there. I miss I love yous and hugs and kisses. I miss being told I am the most beautiful woman he’s ever known, inside and out. I miss being told I am the one and only true love of his life. I miss adventures. I miss dinners and breakfasts and lunches together. I miss movies and snacks together. I miss…just being together, all of the time.

I’m not stronger than I thought I was. God is still as strong as as I knew He was, thankfully. I’m 100% NOT doing this on my own. I couldn’t. I’m doing it with family, friends, and the strength that comes from Jesus. I’m doing it with the Holy Spirit whispering to my heart each day that I don’t have to do it all alone.

Later today I will go see my sister in Tallahassee. We will have dinner and watch a movie together in her living room. I’m sure we will cry. Maybe we will find something to laugh about a little. We will comfort each other and we will grieve together again.

Scott and I spent two weeks with her and my brother-in-law right before we came home for Scott’s surgery, as we were all reeling from the loss of sweet Judah. Lively, colorful, noisy, wonderful Judah. There will be hard things about going there because Scott and I were so sad together then, but he held me up through my trying to hold my family up. The last time I was there, he and I were together, inseparable, as usual, and we didn’t have any idea those would be some of the last times. And it will be Judah’s birthday. Scott and I should have been going up there together to be with Julie and Mike for this day, but now we’re not.

Don’t take the memories you are making for granted, even the sad ones. They are memories worth keeping and cherishing. I’m not going to remember how sad we were as much as I will remember how he always loved and supported me. He was always there. And now he’s not. But we had so many magnificent memories I can look back at now and smile because we were together and, for that, I am thankful.

My life was enriched by the fact that he loved me, wholly and unconditionally, and just about as perfect as it could have been for as long as I knew him. I’ll never regret one moment of that perfection. And I am thankful to know that he never had any regrets either. We only always wished we had been able to meet each other sooner and love each other longer. It’s a blessing to have had that feeling. It was a blessing to have been loved, so very much and so very well, by him. ♥️ I love you, Scott. I miss you every single moment of every single day. See you later, my love. ♥️

And time still doesn’t make sense because I don’t know how much longer that will be.

Just Keep Swimming…

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June 5th, 2023

I curled my hair today.

That may not sound like much. But it is…much.

The day of Scott’s memorial service, I knew I probably 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 try to look presentable, to look pretty even. The service was for him, to say goodbye for now to him, and I should want to look beautiful for anything that was for him.

And if he were here, I so would have wanted to. If we had been honoring him for anything else, I would have taken plenty of time to get ready, dress up, hair & makeup, the whole nine yards, just because I would have been proud to be on his arm, by his side.

But that day, I just couldn’t make myself care. I remember thinking that there should be thunder and lightning outside. It should have been gray and dreary and…just sad outside. Why should I put on makeup when I knew I would cry it off? Why cover the black circles under my eyes when they only gave witness to what I felt? Why do my hair when I hoped that water would fall from the sky in torrents and somehow wind and rain would whisk me away to Oz or some sort of alternate reality where he was still alive and well and laughing? It felt pointless. I felt lost.

I’ve been to the store with, still, no makeup and a horrible pile of hair up on my head. I’ve not cared who saw me. I’ve gone on, done things that needed to be done, completed tasks that were expected of me. But I’ve done them begrudgingly, despite prayer and petition to the contrary.

Today I got up and washed my sheets. I went for a two mile walk. I took a shower and washed my hair. And then, tonight, I curled it.

I don’t want to be sad forever. Oh, I’m still very sad. Scott is everywhere I look. There are memories of him everywhere. But I want to be able to think of him one day and not be fighting off tears. I want to be able to think through happy memories and laugh like I would have if I was reminding him of those memories. And I don’t want to feel this overwhelming, heavy, dark sadness every day, forever.

I know, for a fact, that Scott wouldn’t have wanted that for me. It would make him miserable to see me as I am now, broken. And I know that God doesn’t want that for me. He promised to give me a hope and a future. It’s not the future I had planned, but if God is in the midst of it then it will still have joy one day. My future still holds a promise and the fact that I will see Scott in Heaven one day is not the only thing I should be focusing on.

I have a mission here, a God-given purpose. Somehow, I am still here for a reason.

So I curled my hair today. I tried to be a little bit of the person I usually am today. I can’t promise I’ll keep doing it all the time but I’m going to try, very hard, to remember all of the reasons I have to be thankful, grateful, happy here. And I truly do have so many.

Where there is great love, there is great loss…great grief. But I also have people who will “get in the mud” with me, as one reminded me today. People who will wait for me to be ready to climb out and then push me, pull me, let me stand on their backs to fight my way out of the muck.

And that is something to be grateful for. That is a reason to be happy. ♥️

What Matters Most in Marriage

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June 5th, 2023

Mine and Scott’s marriage was short by comparison to some. Yet in the relatively short time we have known, dated, been engaged, and then married to each other, we had far more than some relationships or marriages have in many, many more years. More love, more understanding, more trust, more consideration for each other, more happiness.

Several people have messaged me or spoken to me and told me they’ve never felt love like that. Some have been married. Some never have. Some still are.

All I can tell you about how we had what we had entails very few sticking points. I’ll try.

1.) Things were not always perfect even though, overall, our relationship was perfect for us. We had disagreements. We got frustrated. We had tons of external pressures (blending families will do that). We had people fighting against our happiness (blending families sometimes does that, too, although I’m thankful we always had great support from the people who counted.) We suffered through emotional losses together. We had financial challenges. We had health challenges. Things weren’t “perfect,” but we were.

We made an agreement early on in our relationship that there was NO giving up. We agreed never to quit. When we married, we didn’t just say vows at a ceremony, we made a covenant with God and each other and we both took it very seriously. This takes NOT a 50/50 relationship. This takes the kind where each person gives 100% to each other. And while there were times when I was ornery and didn’t give 100, and times when he was stubborn and didn’t give 100, we always, always met in the middle. We chose each other, every day.

2.) We had complete trust. He never, ever let me doubt that he would never even entertain the idea of being with someone else, or talk inappropriately to anyone else. He also knew with absolute certainty that I would not. We both knew that if we gave our all to each other, we didn’t need anyone else. But it still had to be 100/100. I’ve told you that he bragged on the fact that I was the love of his life to everyone he met. He showed pictures of me, videos, talked about our adventures, was giddy when I was going to be coming to see him or when he was on his way home to me. That gave me a complete trust and comfort in his absolute loyalty. People who know me will tell you I loved being by his side and was smitten with him even still. He was my missing piece and I was his. But that’s because we both committed to never looking for other puzzles to fit into.

3.) Communication. Scott and I had different love languages. We showed and received love in different ways. That was a challenge to navigate in the beginning. What I did to show love didn’t necessarily come across as love to him. The same was true in reverse. This meant that I had to learn how to show love in a way he understood BUT also meant he had to learn to accept love sometimes in the way I would naturally give it. This was not a one-way street. Many discussions took place to find ways to meet in the middle on this. Many. Neither of us started off as great communicators but we grew into great ones together, with each other. We learned to love each other in the ways we each needed. This made us each feel like the very most important person in the other’s life. Adored, treasured, loved immensely.

4.) A cord of three strands. God was in the center of our relationship. We kept Him there. We prayed over our kids, over our finances, over our marriage, over each other’s difficulties, over sickness. And because God was in it, we were each convicted any time one of us was letting our human nature take over our emotions. If I was being ugly because I was tired or frustrated or sad over something, God let me know it straight up. And we apologized after things like that, with humility and remorse. Then we both forgave situations like that, without question, with understanding, and still, with great love. For love covers a multitude of sins.

I’m sure there are more “things” that go into it but mostly what I’m trying to say is that if two people make a decision to grow together, it is possible to have the “perfect relationship” together, while keeping these things in mind and committing to them. It cannot be one-sided; both must take part and live in agreement to the principles herein.

Don’t give up seeking a love like this. Seek for it in your own marriage if you are married. Work for it! If you’re not married, don’t settle for less just to be with 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 because you CAN have more and could be with THE ONE instead. ♥️ The difference isn’t magic; the difference is work, commitment, determination, and letting Jesus be in the middle of it all. ♥️

And all of this is why I miss him so, so very much. 💔

𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕖 and Worship in Loss

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June 4th, 2023

It’s Sunday. My plan was to go to church but I had nightmares all night; I remember two of the dreams, specifically, in which other people I care about died as I watched. I’m mentally and emotionally drained and fatigued as I wake. I’ve decided to watch the service of my church online this morning.

The fellowship of corporate worship (going to church) is important. We need to surround ourselves with other believers to be reminded that we are not alone in this life and in our beliefs. When our faith feels weary and dim, those who have surrounded us in worship will pray for us and lift us up in loss. They help carry us until we can resume.

I don’t only “go to church” on Sundays. That is the day of corporate worship in our faith but, because I am a part of the Body of Christ (a body of worshippers which includes even many who attend different churches but are part of the same Body), I am wrapped in their care even when I am unable to be at a church service. Sometimes my “church service”, my worship, my prayer, is held alone in my bedroom or on a walk outside. In grief, sometimes I relish being surrounded by others and sometimes I need to be alone. So it is with spending time with God.

Rest is important, too. Without rest, it is easier to fall deeper into the blackened pit of despair. When my body, even my mind, needs rest, I try to heed that call, as well. Today I will worship from home and spend some time alone.

Today, I will focus on gratitude.

My soul is weary. It’s a weariness I cannot even describe so, for today, I will not even try. Suffice it to say that I feel “like I have nothing left”. I don’t mean that in the physical sense. I have beautiful, wonderful children and a granddaughter who just may have hung the moon. I have other loving family members and I have compassionate friends. What I mean is that it feels as if I have nothing left of myself to give. Right now, they are all giving to me (which, as a mother, causes guilt but I digress.) I feel as though I am an empty vessel with nothing left to pour out.

As I was pondering this feeling of emptiness this morning, how I have nothing left to give even if I did get up and get ready for church, God poured out some wisdom over me. I never have anything fit for a King. I am just Jennifer. I am a sinner, over and over again. What do I have that would even be worth giving to the One who so lovingly created me, who knit me together in my mother’s womb?

And so, quite instantly, two “Who Am I?” songs began to play in my mind.

The first to play was this one:

“Who am I, that the Lord of all the earth
Would care to know my name, would care to feel my hurt?
Who am I, that the Bright and Morning Star
Would choose to light the way for my ever wandering heart?
Not because of who I am, but because of what You’ve done
Not because of what I’ve done, but because of who You are” (Who Am I? – Casting Crowns)

And the second song that quickly followed was this oldie-but-goodie:

“Over time You’ve healed so much in me,
And I am living proof.
That although my darkest hour had come,
Your light could still shine through.
Though at times it’s just enought to cast,
A shadow on the wall.
I am grateful that you’ve shined your light on me at all.

Who Am I,
That you would love me so gently?
Who Am I,
That you would recognize my name?
Who Am I,
That you would speak to me so softly?
Conversation with the Lord most high.
Who Am I?” (Who Am I? – Point of Grace)

And so, you see, these are both songs of gratitude because I have nothing else worthy of giving to the Lord Most High. Just gratitude. And that doesn’t have to mean I am thankful for these tragedies that have beset our lives at this time. I am not thankful today that Scott and Judah are gone from our presence while we desperately miss them. It means I am grateful for all that I have left. I am grateful that I am not Job. I am grateful because God loves me even in my darkest hour. Today, all that I have is a hallelujah.

“I’ve got one response.
I’ve got just one move.
With my arm stretched wide,
I will worship You.

So I throw up my hands
And praise You again and again
‘Cause all that I have is a hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
And I know it’s not much
But I’ve nothing else fit for a King
Except for a heart singing hallelujah.
Hallelujah.”

My mind, my soul needs rest. So I will still stay home today and God is okay with that. He just still wants to hear me worship from here. And so I will.

Shalom. God’s Peace.

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June 1st, 2023

I constantly wonder how I’m managing this. Don’t get me wrong; I cry, get overwhelmed, lose it sometimes, and feel lonely in a crowded place. I miss him terribly. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will see him again. This is just one way-too-long travel assignment with no cell phone reception. But I’m going to miss him as long as I’m here. And loving him was 100% worth the pain of today and the rest of them.

But I do have peace. Not peace as the world gives, but Shalom, the peace of God, which transcends all human understanding, guards my heart and my mind in Jesus. Somehow, in a way that I can’t really even comprehend, I have peace even in my sadness. Did you know you can be very, very sad and still have peace?

I get very angry sometimes about some circumstances, but I still feel at peace over the anticipated outcome of that. I am grief-ridden, but I still have peace over the fact that God is carrying me in this storm and won’t ever leave me or forsake me. I worry through finances and what is going to happen in that regard, but I still actually have peace over it because, as I wait for answers and processes and paperwork, I know that God is in the waiting and that He has promised He will work all things together for my good because I love Him. That doesn’t mean it will be the “perfect” scenario (it can’t be because Scott can’t come back) but it will be one in which He’ll keep walking with me, keep giving me peace, keep making it work out in a way I can handle (with Him) until the day He calls me home to be with them, too.

Someone curious and well-meaning asked me, “do you think it’s just that your brain thinks he’s on a contract somewhere and that you’ll suddenly realize it’s real and really grieve then?” I thought about that for awhile because I sure hoped it wouldn’t get worse than this.

I’m really grieving now. I truly am. And it doesn’t matter to me what that looks like to other people. Grieving looks different from minute to minute. I may fall apart in front of you and start sobbing, having to walk away. I may have a full conversation with you and then have someone remind me later that you came to see me. (Yes, that has happened on more than one occasion.) I may look like poop in Walmart or I may have tried to put on makeup and brush my hair. Grief never looks the same even in one person, much less in different people. We all do it differently.

And I know that my brain doesn’t think he’s just off on contract again because literally almost 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 reminds me of him. His toothbrush is still by the sink. His slippers are still in my living room, where he left them. His cologne is on a pillow in the bedroom. Evidence of his various hobbies are all throughout the house. His truck is parked in my driveway. It’s on and on and on. And when I’m not home, every place I go has a memory of him there. My sister mentioned queso to my nephew yesterday; the last time I had queso was when Scott and I went to have Mexican food in Tallahassee about a week before he died. I went for a walk with my daughter-in-love and granddaughter today. I realized a few minutes in that I was constantly responding in conversation with “Scott would have said this…Scott used to…Scott would love that!” 𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦. And every reminder is one that he is not just away from home, he is gone from this Earth.

So why do I have peace that lies under this cloud of grief. Peace is synonymous with tranquility or stillness in the dictionary. It doesn’t mean I’m “happy”. It doesn’t mean I’m without concerns, emotions, or grief. But it means there is a kind of tranquility, a calmness in my spirit that is only there because of the presence of Jehovah Shalom. “I am with you always; even to the end of the age.” Matt 28:20 Shalom.

Rage, Rage, Against the Dying of the Light

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May 26th, 2023

GRIEF TRIGGER WARNING (This means to swipe past this post now if my pain right now is too much for you, especially if music is the trigger for you that it is for me – there’s nothing wrong with protecting your own heart and you should. This one is tough for me so it may be tough for you, too, especially if you’re an empath. Read ahead at your own risk.)

When I wake from nightmares in the middle of the night, praying as I reach for the clock that it will be 5 a.m.or later, that’s when it’s worst, I think. He isn’t laying beside me and I know it before my eyes open because I just saw his face again, not in the way that I wanted to.

It’s worse tonight because I don’t even have the release of tears, of a “good cry.” Sometimes the numb and the gravest sorrow intermingle and then it still hurts deeply because the tears refuse to come and help me let it out a little. I can’t sob over his loss so the anger comes back at some point. I’m not there now, just yet, but I’ve already learned the patterns. I know it’s coming.

Anger protects me even though I hate how it feels. I’ll want to scream. Not a “woe is me” scream but the blood-curdling kind. The kind that says I’m out of control because everything around me is. He was taken from me before we had a chance to finish this dance. He was ripped away when we were still in the prime of our beauty. But I think we would have always been in “the prime.”

I’m not angry at Scott. I’m not angry with God. This world is filled with evil all the way back to the serpent who slithered into the garden. Satan is the god of this world and that’s why I can’t wait to leave here one day, to have all of the people I love in one place, together again, where there is no sadness, no mourning, no loss, no pain. I am not meant to go now, understand me. He left me here because there is still work to do, and if I listen then He’ll show me what it is.

But right now the anger won’t come yet, either, so this numb is only the kind that is silencing but still painful. And so I turn to the only place, the only One, who still guards my heart.

He can handle my sadness. He can deal with my heart wrenching pain. He can bring peace, even though it’s temporary when it comes, for now. I go to the foot of the cross. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I, Lord. Lift me above the raging waters that threaten to drown me. Rescue me.

“Take me to the King. I don’t have much to bring. My heart is torn in pieces; it’s my offering. Take me to the throne. Leave me there alone, to gaze upon your glory and sing to you this song….take me to the King.”

This chorus has been in my head all week. I haven’t had the strength to listen to it until now. I’ve heard it many times before all of this happened but never felt it so much, never experienced the raw emotion behind the lyrics until now.

The Bible is the same way. I’ve read the Bible cover to cover before (not always in the order it’s written) and have read many passages enough that I can lipsync them when someone starts to speak a verse. But sometimes God gives me new perspective on what a passage is saying when I am going through different joys or trials in my life. The Bible isn’t static. Oh, His word is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, but it isn’t always spoken in the same tone. Different seasons of life will alter the punctuation, the way it is spoken to your heart. If you haven’t read it in awhile, take it out. See what He’s trying to tell you today and, although He won’t say something “different,” you’ll read it in a new light with the changes you’ve experienced in your life since the last time you read it. Ask Him to take you where you need to be and don’t stop after reading one sentence, but let the story of that passage be revealed to you. For me, sometimes I read at first and cannot figure out why this pertains to me, to my situation, but it always comes to me later when that happens.

I know that, one day, this song won’t bring me pain anymore; it will bring me peace. Peace because I will know that even in my darkest hour, He was finding a way to speak to me. Finding a way to reveal Himself. Finding a way to remind me that He is still here and that all I have to do, when I feel empty and have nothing left to give, is to seek Him. To go to the throne of His glory. On that day, when it no longer hurts, this song will represent yet another promise that He always will.

He is here, hallelujah.
He is here, amen.
He is hear, holy, holy.
I will bless His name again.
He is here; listen closely.
Hear Him calling out your name.
He is here; you can touch Him.
You will never be the same.

Forever was Fleeting

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May 23, 2023

I never imagined that grief could feel like this.

I was sad when I lost my Granny. Very sad. I could tell myself that she lived a long life. She wasn’t sick anymore.

I was really sad when my stepdad died. So sad. He had been suffering from Parkinson’s for years and I could tell myself he was better off now, could picture how well he was in Heaven.

When my nephew died, I was heartbroken. I cannot explain the sad because he was healthy and way too young and full of life and beauty and color and noise. And the heartbreak of my sister and brother-in-law took my breath away. Scott was there to walk through it with me, to hold me when I sobbed. To take me to be with them. To join me in every small measure of help we could muster.

I still never imagined grief could feel like this. People keep saying “I can only imagine what this must be like for you.” I know you’re trying to imagine it but you can’t. As hard as you might try, you just can’t. A very precious few friends who have already walked in my shoes can feel it, I imagine all over again, by watching me go through it because they have lost soulmates. They have been where I am today.

I described it to someone as having been given a paralytic before surgery but someone forgets to give you the actual general anesthesia. Someone starts cutting, opens up your body and starts taking parts out, and you can’t even scream or move to tell them you’re feeling all of it. And since you can’t really imagine that in a way that you can feel it, I’m thankful most cannot feel this either.

My sister and I are close but we cannot really comfort each other now. We’ve texted but have only spoken on the phone a few times since it happened. The rawness of my pain and of hers intermingle and pour over us like white hot lava, but a mysterious kind that doesn’t consume anything in its path; it just solidifies and burns continuously, taking your breath once over and over. How did sixteen days steal so much from our family?

My mother-in-law is the strongest person I know right now. She has lost both of her children in less than a year and a half but still finds a way to comfort me and hold me up when my knees no longer want to. And we do not grieve as those who have no hope but, dear God, I don’t know how to wait on that day right now.

Today we do what they call “laying him to rest” but there is no rest for me and he has already been resting for almost two weeks. I doubt I have consumed what would normally be one day’s calories in two weeks and have slept three hours or less per night except one when I miraculously made it to almost five. Everyone keeps telling me to eat and sleep. But even when I eat it returns and sleeping brings no rest. I’m thankful Scott is not in any pain, that his heart doesn’t hurt like mine, but it doesn’t change the fact that my pain is so deep that I feel I cannot breathe. There are literally times when I feel like I have to think to take a breath, like my body doesn’t know how to do it on its own anymore without him.

All of our children and our granddaughter are what keeps me tethered here. Without our boys and our girls, I don’t think I’d bother getting out of our bed…it’s such a huge bed now. Scott’s body was always like a furnace; I used to tell him that he could keep me alive in a desert tundra just by staying/sleeping near me. I imagined yesterday that I would be comforted by being able to put my hands on his face one more time. It wasn’t comforting at all.

I don’t know how to walk through this day. Or all of the tomorrows. Why does this day feel like such a final goodbye when I already know he’s been gone for so long…how is it only two weeks? There will be people there who try to comfort me, people who want nothing more than to ease my suffering. I wish I could make them all feel better by acting like I do…but the life sentence of living without him beside me reaches so distantly into the future.

I will be okay one day; I know that I will although it doesn’t feel like it is possible right now. Like everything else in life, God will give beauty for ashes even in this, as unfathomable as that seems right now. He’ll find a way to use this thing He didn’t cause to bring cause for me to walk a dark path with someone else who hurts. And then He’ll give me the strength to do it.

But today feels like an ending, all over again.

I love you, Scott. I miss you insurmountably.
I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with you. But I realize now that you spent the rest of your life with me and I know that you loved me with your whole heart until the moment you had to go.
Until we meet again, my heart. ♥️