Tag: Grief

A New Chapter

I plan to post several times each week and hope you will check out the YouTube page on the menu to keep up to date on the short videos that include casual conversations about life issues, life hacks to help you manage daily stressors and triggers, and inspirational videos that include devotionals, quotes and short book reviews.

Today I posted my first video to YouTube. Not a simple task for this senior citizen, but I did it. Social Media and building a platform is not my strong suit and adding YouTube to my arsenal terrifies me. Why? I hate how I look on video and generally feel I look and sound silly and incompetent. However, I feel pretty good about my first attempt.

I plan to post several times each week and hope you will check out the YouTube page on the menu to keep up to date on the short videos that include casual conversations about life issues, life hacks to help you manage daily stressors and triggers, and inspirational videos that include devotionals, quotes and short book reviews.

Check out my first video by clicking on YouTube on the main menu and hear my thoughts about Finding Joy in the Midst of Grief.

Grief: Speaking Words Unsaid through Writing

The loss of a loved one leaves words unsaid. 

Writing provides one way to say what time and death did not allow.

I love you. Nothing will fill the hole in my heart. No one knows how much I loved you. I do not know if you realized how much I loved you. I am so sorry that I got annoyed at you. I hope u knew how much I loved you. I am talking to the air. I do not know how to do this, my luv. I do not know how to live without you. I will, I know, but now, I do not know how.

 

The loss of a loved one leaves words unsaid.

Writing provides one way to say what time and death did not allow.

I love you. Nothing will fill the hole in my heart. No one knows how much I loved you. I do not know if you realized how much I loved you. I am so sorry that I got annoyed at you. I hope u knew how much I loved you. I am talking to the air. I do not know how to do this, my luv. I do not know how to live without you. I will, I know, but now, I do not know how.

Letters to My Love

One month after John’s death I was fearful, anxious and irritable. During a visit, my son-in-law had the perfect wisdom for me. He said, “you need to write about this, Mom because that is what you do.” Following his advice, I began speaking words unsaid by writing to John daily for several months. The letters began as short notes describing my day. Connecting to John through these short notes brought comfort and allowed me to say things I had not had time to say before he died.

My Daily Connection Need

Email, text messages, posting on social media are today’s primary methods of connecting with just about anyone. In our current culture, connecting daily with friends and loved ones on various social media platforms is commonplace. John’s death did not remove my need for connecting with him daily. I needed to feel someone heard my cries of sorrow.

Connecting through notes allowed me to revisit my relationship with John. Speaking words unsaid brought relief, tears and sometimes a smile. I wrote in metaphors and used analogies to describe my emotions. Connecting through letters helped me remember the role John played in my life. He grounded me. He made bad days not so bad by making me laugh. With each letter, I felt relief from the pain of grief, release from regret and a fleeting moment of peace in my soul. As time passed, I no longer wrote directly to John but continued to record my emotions, thoughts, and insights. In those early days following his death, connecting with him through writing helped me transition through most of the stages of grief.

Connecting to your loved one through writing allows you to speak to them, to bare your soul to them.

Speaking words unsaid can give not only relief but real healing.

King David wrote to God often. The book of Psalms records David’s conversations with God. Most passages begin with an emotional outcry of pain but end with praise and thanksgiving. David records moments of grief, anger, fear, and remorse. He is candid. Connecting to God was vital to David’s existence. Through his writing, David speaks to God and always recalls the true nature of his relationship with God.

Imagine David’s’ life without these times of connection through writing. He found relief from the pain of grief, from anger, and from fear through his writing. Connecting to those we’ve lost through letters can help us find treasured moments of peace.  Speaking words unsaid can connect us to relief and release.

Whether you write directly to your loved one, to God or simply put thoughts to paper addressed to no one, the process of acknowledging your thoughts, emotions, and struggles through writing can lead to emotional and spiritual healing.

How did you connect your emotions, thoughts, and insights during the early days following your loss?  Share your thoughts in the comments section below.

Bargaining: Why Did you have to Leave?

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.

Several years ago, I wrote a series of posts on grief after my husband died. It seems appropriate to share some of those earlier posts now, nearly seven years later. Grief impacts us daily and is never easy to manage. This post discusses the unanswered “why?” that surrounded John’s unexpected death.

“Why?” becomes a bargaining tool

John often sent texts that began with “Howzit?” He wanted to know how my day was going and that he was awake. I miss that phrase; I miss his simple words of care and humor that turned even the most difficult day into a pleasant one. I could not understand why God would take those moments of joy from me. I wondered how I would survive without him.

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.  I spent many days creating reasons that made sense to me and thinking of scenarios that would make the outcome different. My list of “What if…” was long and complicated. I told myself that if I knew “why”, I would feel less guilty and could let go of the self-blame.

Learning to change my focus

With time, I accepted that I would never know why John was taken from me, but not without a long intense struggle. Moving on from bargaining required me to stop asking why.  Once I stopped asking why I recalled the things John taught me. I recalled the life he lived. I remembered things he shared with me that helped me heal and become the person that I am. I can’t change the events of the day John died, but I can change what I focus on.

John once told me that it is more important to focus on how God brings you out of a painful experience than to focus on the experience. Remembering this helped me stop asking why John left me and begin focusing on sharing how he affected my life and my family.

This is not your fault

I don’t know how many times I have told someone who is in the midst of grief, “this is not your fault.” You may “know” the truth of that statement, but you are now experiencing the guilt and blame more intensely than ever before. When you feel guilt or blame creep in, remember how your loved one impacted your life. Focusing on the life lived by your loved one can help you move beyond the exhausting task of bargaining to change the unchangeable events surrounding the loss of your loved one.

The disciples’ grief & the bargaining

I imagine that the disciples asked “Why?” many times during the days after the crucifixion. Even though Christ told them what was to come, the followers did not understand they only had a short time left with their beloved leader, much less that he would be back. For His friends and disciples, the grief was real. These men and women lost the greatest companion they had ever known.

The promise that he would come back or even the promise that he was going to prepare a place for them did not ease their grief. They were in pain. They were afraid. They probably asked the question “Why did He let this happen? “ What could I have done to prevent it?” Perhaps they wondered how they could minister to others when their grief was so intense. I wonder if like me they struggled with thoughts they must deny their intense pain so those who looked to them for guidance would not lose faith. I imagine that hearing someone quote what Christ told them at the last supper resulted in a mixture of anger confusion and doubt. After all, they walked with Christ every day.

They wanted to know “Why did He leave us?”

Christ knew exactly what His future would be. He also knew nothing his disciples said or did would change the outcome. However, the disciples did not immediately understand or accept His purpose would continue without Christ’s physical presence.

Christ provides a comforter

Christ rose from the dead and then ascended to heaven, which though altogether different from death, still left the disciples on their own. The disciples finally understood Christ’s purpose and began sharing their experiences with the world. Christ gave them His Spirit, the comforter, to empower them in this mission. They stopped asking why He had to leave and started sharing who he was.

As followers of Christ, we have that same Spirit within us, a comforter in our deepest grief.  While the answer to “Why?” may not always come, the Spirit can empower you to change your focus and move past bargaining to embracing all that your loved one added to your life and taught.

List ways your loved one impacted your life? How can you share those “gifts” with others? Share your comments below.

Grief: Bargaining with God

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.

Blind Sided by Grief

August 23, 2019, was the sixth anniversary of John’s death. We shared life for nearly eight years and I fully expected to grow old with him.

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.

John showed me unconditional love, and I have missed his presence as I write my story. His smile and his encouragement helped me believe in myself. He was not perfect, and neither was I, but I always knew that he loved me. As I recalled those early months following his death, I found this blog. I wrote it about one year after John’s death, but the words still resonate with me. Remembering the ways, I coped with grief in those early days helped me this year when grief surprised me.

 “Why?” becomes a bargaining tool

John often sent texts that began with “Howzit?” He wanted to know how my day was going and let me know that he was awake. I miss that phrase; I miss his simple words of care and humor that turned even the most difficult day into a pleasant one. I could not understand why God would take those moments of joy from me. I wondered how I would survive without him.

Asking “why?” became my bargaining tool. I cannot count the times I asked that question.  I asked God but received no response.  As a result, I spent many days creating reasons that made sense to me and creating scenarios that would make the outcome different. My list of “What if…” was long and complicated. I told myself that if I knew “why,” I would feel less guilty and could let go of the self-blame.

Learning to change my focus

With time, I accepted that I would never know why John died so young, but not without a long intense struggle. Moving on from bargaining required me to stop asking why.  Once I stopped asking why I recalled the things John taught me. I recalled the life he lived. I remembered things he shared with me that helped me heal and become the person I am. I can’t change the events of the day John died, but I can change what I focus on.

John once told me that it is more important to focus on how God brings you out of a painful experience than to focus on the experience. Remembering this helped me stop asking why John left me and begin focusing on sharing how he affected my life and my family.

This is not your fault

I don’t know how many times I have told someone who is in the midst of grief, “this is not your fault.” During the stage of asking why and bargaining for the answer to the unanswerable, I remembered my words and silently told myself, “this is not your fault.” When we face the loss of a loved one, remembering that their death is not our fault can help move us beyond blame to healing. When you focus on the life lived by your loved one can help you move beyond the exhausting task of bargaining to change the unchangeable events surrounding the loss of your loved one.

The disciple’s grief 

I imagine that the disciples asked “Why?” many times during the days after the crucifixion. Even though Christ told them what was to come, the followers did not understand they only had a short time left with their beloved leader, much less that he would be back. To His friends and disciples, the grief was real. These men and women lost the greatest companion they had ever known.

The promise that he would come back or even the promise that he was going to prepare a place for them did not ease their grief. They were in pain. They were afraid. They probably asked “Why did He let this happen? What could I have done to prevent it?” Perhaps they wondered how they could minister to others when their grief was so intense. I wonder if like me they struggled with thoughts they must deny their intense pain so those who looked to them for guidance would not lose faith. I imagine that hearing someone quote what Christ told them at the last supper resulted in a mixture of anger confusion and doubt. After all, they walked with Christ every day.

They wanted to know “Why did He leave us?”

Christ knew exactly what His future would be. He also knew nothing his disciples said or did would change the outcome. However, the disciples did not immediately understand or accept His purpose would continue without Christ’s physical presence.

Christ provides a comforter

Christ rose from the dead and then ascended to heaven, which though altogether different from death, still left the disciples on their own. The disciples finally understood Christ’s purpose and began sharing their experiences with the world. Christ gave them His Spirit, the comforter, to empower them in this mission. They stopped asking why He had to leave and started sharing who he was.

As followers of Christ, we have that same Spirit within us, a comforter in our deepest grief.  While the answer to “Why?” may not always come, the Spirit can empower you to change your focus and move past bargaining to embracing all that your loved one added to your life.

From Emptiness to Renewal

As I write my memoir I experience grief for the child that never knew love. While the grief I feel for my younger self is different than the grief I felt when John died, the pain is the same. The emptiness I felt after John’s death reminds me of the emptiness I felt as a child. Reviewing this post from several years ago reminds of the solution to the emptiness. I thought it might help others who struggle with the loss of a loved one or who struggle with the loss of innocence through abuse.

Yesterday marked the sixth anniversary of my husband’s heart attack. As I reflected on that day and the months that followed, I recalled the events with new insight. I wrote this blog a few months after John’s death. As I read it today, I realized how much I have grown over the past six years, but was also reminded of the importance of daily renewal.

Grief is a strange and unpredictable process.

As I write my memoir I experience grief for the child that never knew love. While the grief I feel for my younger self is different than the grief I felt when John died, the pain is the same. The emptiness I felt after John’s death reminds me of the emptiness I felt as a child. Reviewing this post from several years ago reminds of the solution to the emptiness. I thought it might help others who struggle with the loss of a loved one or who struggle with the loss of innocence through abuse.

*NOTE-I have updated the post to include current events. 

Six years ago, I stood in disbelief as I heard the doctor’s words to my husband. “You are having a heart attack, Mr. Thomason”.   I sank into the chair next to the bed. “What? That’s not possible. He can’t be having a heart attack!”  I thought as they rushed him away.  For what seemed like an eternity, I waited for news about John.  As I sat alone in the waiting room, I felt empty.  I was not alone, but the others in the room were waiting for news on their family members.  Everyone else in the room had someone else with them.  The emptiness overwhelmed me. I was afraid. I was angry.  I was empty.  I wanted to fill the emptiness, but I did not know how.

At that moment, I felt disconnected from John.  I anxiously waited for news that he was OK.  However, when the doctor emerged from the Cath Lab, he told me John’s heart function was 22%.  Those words pierced my heart!  “I might lose him forever!”  Seeing his smile when he came out of the Cath Lab, filled the emptiness and erased the fear.

10 days later he was gone forever.  10 days later the emptiness returned.

Emptiness is a physical sensation.

Emptiness is a hole in your heart. Emptiness is the chill of silence in a room full of noise. Emptiness is the echo in an empty apartment after a hard day at the office. Emptiness is four walls that no longer provide a home for two. Emptiness craves anything to fill the void. Emptiness demands your attention.

My Soul longed to fill the void.

In the months following John’s death, I reverted to old habits to push down intense emotions. I also attempted to use food to fill the emptiness I felt in my soul. My attempts were a gigantic failure. For, the emptiness could not be filled with food. Try as I might, food did not fill my soul.

A few months later, I was the one on the gurney

“We are admitting you, Mrs. Thomason. You may have unstable angina.”  I was surrounded by medical professionals. Noise surrounded me. Yet, I felt empty. I called my family. I texted my closest friend.  Emptiness invaded my soul. John was not there to listen, to say just the right thing, to encourage me or ground me so I could move forward. I wanted John. I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to see his smile. I wanted him to be in his recliner when I walked in the door after my hospital stay.

My thoughts returned to other moments of emptiness in my life: a child alone in the hospital, a child alone in a dark room, a young adult alone after a rape,  a widow alone. Then for a brief moment, I focused on the memories, traditions and laughter John and I shared. I cried, got angry, smiled and laughed. I could hear John’s gentle voice whisper, “I’m sorry you are having a bad, my luv.” Then for an instant, the emptiness receded and was replaced with his smile.

Later that evening, as I lay in my hospital bed, I felt peaceful and content

The feeling surprised me because none of my friends and family could be there with me. I did not feel abandoned. I did not feel “empty”. I realized that I was connected to each of them in a powerful way. They were praying for me. They texted and called me. I felt their presence and their love. I did not need their physical presence to feel that connection.

At that moment I realized that my connection to John remains intact. I have a choice. I can yield to the emptiness or I can choose to fill it with the memories of my life with him. I can attempt to fill the emptiness with food, isolate and feel sorry for myself because I am alone. Or I can choose to move from emptiness by connecting with a friend, texting someone or even inviting someone to watch a football game with me.

Hunger for Christ

I was more determined than ever to cultivate new habits and connections to lessen the emptiness in my soul. I realized that the “Him” that I hunger for was Christ. Matthew 5:6. My connection to Christ is not new, but I had gotten out of the habit of renewing the connection daily, “Romans 12:2.

During that time, I wrote in my journal,

“My soul remains empty and I long to fill the hole. My stomach can hold no more, but my mind tells me to find food to fill the void. I hunger for his touch for his smile his words of love. Food does not replace love. Food only makes me sick. Food makes me angry. Anger replaces emptiness, but only for a moment. Finally, I cry out, ‘Turn my eyes away from the hole in my heart turn my eyes toward Jesus.’ Christ keeps me safely in His arms replacing the emptiness with peace.”

Paul words to the Philippians

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7

resonated in my mind the first night I was home from the hospital. I felt that peace. I felt loved. I felt full. When the emptiness returned, I was tempted to order a pizza, but I was not physically hungry. I was emotionally and spiritually empty. Instead, I connected with my Granddaughter. I  decided to start a Bible Study with a friend. I invited another friend to watch the Super Bowl with me.

I renewed my connection with God, made a new connection, renewed a friendship and celebrated a memory.

Six years later, I realize the importance of daily renewal to maintain my connection to Christ.

I still miss John. I still long to hear his voice and hold him close, but emptiness rarely enters my soul. When I am sad, I allow myself to cry. I am not always successful, but when I begin my day by talking to God, the day seems less stressful. I sometimes still revert to old habits, but I am much better at resisting those temptations. I am content for the first time in my life because, for the first time, I believe I am loved by God because He created me and I don’t have to earn His love.

 As I navigate grief, I try to:

  • Remember to give myself permission to feel the emptiness.
  • Remember the moments of joy I shared with John.
  • Find ways to reconnect with friends.
  • Renew my connection to Christ daily (even when I don’t “feel” like it)

Related Posts:

The Art of Meaningful Connection

 

How to Cope when Life Throws you a Curve

Sometimes life throws you a curve that seems insurmountable. You are moving along with life.  All is well.  Then suddenly, without warning a loved one dies, you get a negative report from your doctor, or you lose your job.  Suddenly, your world is turned upside down.  You feel alone. You frantically search for someone to comfort you, but friends and family are not available.  In these times, remember God provides the greatest comfort through the Holy Spirit.

Revisiting an Old Story

When I wrote this blog five years ago, my heart still ached from the loss of my husband. I longed for just a few moments with John to share daily events and accomplishments. I longed to hear his voice one more time. As I considered what to post today, I realized that recent events triggered similar feelings of sorrow. However, the triggering events were not losses, they were achievements that I wanted to share with John. I wanted to tell him about starting to write my memoir and graduating from HBU with a Master of Arts in Apologetics. I wanted to bounce ideas off him as I wrote the chapters of my memoir, but he is not here. I miss him. Reading this blog renewed me and reoriented my heart toward the ultimate comforter.

How to Cope when Life throws you a curve

Sometimes life throws you a curve that seems insurmountable. You are moving along with life.  All is well.  Then suddenly, without warning a loved one dies, you get a negative report from your doctor, or you lose your job.  Suddenly, your world is turned upside down.  You feel alone. You frantically search for someone to comfort you, but friends and family are not available.  In these times, remember God provides the greatest comfort through the Holy Spirit.

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

Several months after my husband, John’s death, I was feeling well most of the time.  The intense emotions surrounding the day of the month that he died were a faint memory. However, at the 20-month mark, I felt a level of intensity that reminded me of the days immediately following his death. There seemed to be no relief.

Friends and family were unavailable due to their own circumstances. They reached out to me via text messages, phone calls, and prayer, which helped for a moment.  A simple text from my grandson, Isaac “Miss U,” brought a smile.  A word from my daughter, “I love you,” calmed me for an instant.  My sister-in-law asking, “How’s your day going?” eased the sorrow.  But none of these things lasted.   I felt disconnected from God.  Somehow, I believed I should be “over” this and be able to move on.  I told myself, “get a grip.”  I was not prepared for the emotional intensity that consumed me. I longed for comfort.  Then I remembered a scripture that I memorized as a child.

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, 3 he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. 4 Even though I walk through the darkest valley, will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 6 Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Ps. 23

 When life throws you a curve, God can use it to bring you closer to Him.

While I do not feel God necessarily removed my support system, I know He used the circumstance to force me to turn to Him.   One morning I decided to listen to music while I drank my morning coffee.  My thought was to connect with God and hopefully find relief from the sorrow in my soul.  The first song was a man singing,” God gave me you…” to his wife.  Surprisingly, after the initial, “you’ve got to be kidding me.” I smiled.  I felt God whisper, “It’s going to be okay, Charlotte.  I am still here with you.”  In that 30 second connection, I realized that although my friends and family could not comfort me, God was ever present to “refresh my soul… lead me beside still waters and comfort me.”  This truth got me through that day.

God’s Presence overcomes any circumstance

No matter what life throws at you, God’s presence can bring comfort.  Whether the curve is a death or some other significant loss, He is always the ultimate source of comfort.  We all have people in our lives who are good at comforting those who are in pain, but there will be times when these “comforters” will not be able to connect with you.   In any circumstance, God, through the Holy Spirit, can bring a peace that passes all understanding. If only for a moment.  Sometimes that is all you need. Peace at the moment.  In times of most profound sorrow, His presence will refresh your soul as he leads you beside still waters to comfort you.

When has God been your comforter when life throws you a curve?

 

Grief is Complicated

Grief is complicated. I thought I had it figured out, but I quickly discovered that I had much to learn.

In this post, I re-visit the difficult topic of grief. While not directly related to recovering from abuse, the post illustrates the importance of connecting to truth and asking for help.

I am grateful to The Perennial Gen for the opportunity to share part of my journey through grief after my husband, John passed away. Also, thanks to Holly Ordway and my classmates in Creative Writing who provided feedback on this piece two years ago.

Grief is complicated. I thought I had it figured out, but I quickly discovered that I had much to learn. Read More.

 

 

A Letter to Heaven

My husband,John, helped me resolve the distorted view of love my parents created through abuse. I felt loved for who I am, not what I could offer him.  I decided that posting my latest letter to heaven I might help someone realize there is hope even amid tragedy.

Every day at noon my husband, John, and I communicated via text messages.  The conversations always began with “how u be?” While the discussions lasted only a few minutes, they were our unique way of sharing our day with each other.  The conversations varied from short words of affection to venting frustrations.  John’s texts grounded me, made me laugh or sometimes the text messages helped us resolve a conflict or misunderstanding.   While John was a man of few words, his well-chosen text messages conveyed affection, support, and love each day at noon.

On August 23, 2013, that changed forever when John passed away in his sleep.  Ten days earlier, John, suffered a major heart attack which severely damaged his heart. There were no more text messages, emails or other electronic communication that had become such an intricate part of our life together.  Since his death, I periodically write letters to him, not because I expect an answer or that I think he reads them. I write the letters because through the short notes I feel connected to him. The letters have also been a way for me to document my grief journey.

John helped me resolve the distorted view of love my parents created through abuse. I felt loved for who I am, not what I could offer him.  I decided that posting my latest letter to heaven I might help someone realize there is hope even amid tragedy.

A Letter to Heaven

My love,

I haven’t written to you for a very long time. I sometimes feel silly that I even think about writing a letter to you. I know that you do not see me or hear me, but somehow writing a letter now and then brings me peace. Yesterday was the fifth anniversary of the heart attack that eventually took you from me. Five years seems like forever, but today it seems like yesterday. My mind races back to the day with so many questions that I cannot count them all. “Why didn’t you call 911 when you knew something was wrong? Why didn’t you tell me the minute I walked in from work that you thought you were having a heart attack?” These and so many more questions haunt me on this anniversary. There are no answers, but the questions remain.

You Would be Proud

I do want to let you know that I am happy, well content anyway. I don’t miss you every day anymore. I miss you when I watch the Texas Rangers play. I don’t cry at the thought of you not being here to watch the game with me. The things that once caused tears to flow now bring a smile to my face. I now enjoy the memories of our life together, but I get sad sometimes when I think of the things you are missing.

Angel graduated from high school in May and just moved into the college dorm. She is all grown up, my love, and you would be so proud of the young woman our granddaughter has become. Korine is teaching High School English and just received a Master’s in Apologetics. Isaac has a girlfriend!

Grief Observed

I have learned something this week, my love. Rationally, I know that you are happy, content and enjoying the company of God. I know that to wish you were still in my life is a selfish thought because you are where you are supposed to be. However, I finally understand in my heart that to want to bring you back is unfair to you. C. S. Lewis reflects in A Grief Observed, “I want her back as an ingredient in the restoration of my past. Could I have wished her anything worse? Having got once through death, to come back and then, at some later date, have all her dying to do over again?”[1] Those words seemed harsh when I read them two years ago. Now, they ring true. I would not wish such sorrow on you. I can’t restore the past.

I miss you, my love, but I realize that our life together would have been so different because of the changes in your health. You were not a good patient, my love. You often got impatient when your body did not allow you to do what you loved. After the heart attack, your activity level changed. Of course, I don’t know how much progress you might have made over time because you died before the first follow up with your doctor.

Moving On

My love, for the first time since you died, I am not overwhelmed with tears as the anniversary of your death approaches. I am reflective, but not sad. I’ve always understood that grief is not an event, but a journey. Lewis describes it best, “Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.”[2] I think I have rounded a new bend that reveals newness, peace, and contentment that I have not experienced for a very long time.

I look forward to the day when we meet again, but I no longer yearn for the memories of our life together. Remembering you now brings a soft smile to my lips.

All My Love,

Me

[1] C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed (London: CrossReach Publications, 2016), 25.

[2]Ibid, 45.

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