Asking “why?” became my bargaining tool. I cannot count the times I asked that question. I asked John in my letters to him. I asked God, but there was never a response. The result was many days of creating reasons that made sense to me and creating scenarios that would make the outcome different.
“I have cried more and more intensely than I have in years. I have realized that the deep sorrow of grief will not be pushed away forever. Oh I tried by letting it bubble out for brief moments thinking, “I can do this.” Short blasts of tears predict the eruption to come. Body tremors warn of the pain within. Fatigue warns that all is not well in the soul. Then the deep sorrow and anguish of grief erupts. The eruption will not stop until the depth of pain is released.
As I struggled to comprehend how God could love me, I struggled with an equally troubling question, “How could God love the family members who hurt me?”
Fearfully and Wonderfully Made In this blog, I describe how I come face to face with my distorted self-image. I knew the truth, but still felt unlovable. One simple change altered who I saw when I looked in the mirror.
Originally posted on Charlotte B. Thomason:
As tears rolled down my cheeks as I thought, “How can I ever give her the…
When you pass your baton to someone else you leave a legacy that can touch countless individuals that you will never meet.
This sonnet describes my internal conflict between the truth and a behavior pattern that seems impossible to break.
With a sigh of relief, I whispered, “Thank you, for choosing to live.” I looked at the word document on my computer screen and felt a renewed sense of God’s presence. I sat in awe of God’s unconditional love for me.
Agreeing to video my near-death experience was the catalyst for this blog. I started the blog, so viewers of the video would have a place to go to learn more about my story and to ask questions. My granddaughter, Angellee Korine Martinez, filmed and edited the video. As she filmed me I felt as though I was telling her my story.
Grief is a strange thing. It is dynamic and strikes when I least expect it. I rarely think of upcoming anniversaries, but grief lurks in the shadows ready to surprise me when I see a memory pop up on Facebook or when I hear one of John’s favorite songs. The moments of grief don’t last long and I accept them as part of life. I miss John but would not wish him to come back because I know he is walking with God and enjoying conversations with the saints.