“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.”—Hebrews 10:23 (ESV)
It’s been 369 days without his mischievous smile, his contagious laugh, and his personality that filled the whole house. It’s been 8,856 hours since I kissed his lips, held his hand, or looked into his eyes. It’s been 535,680 minutes since our last adventure together (2.19.18) playing our people game that only made sense to us. It’s been a lifetime since he last loved on our grandchildren and spoiled them like only he could. I miss him.
I don’t want to call today an anniversary. You’re supposed to celebrate anniversaries. I don’t want to call it a memorial, because it has such finality. Is there something in between because he’s still alive and well in our hearts? We get a laugh almost every day at things he did or would have said.
The boys will do something that is exactly like him and we laugh. The girls recall different scenarios that left us with our mouths hanging open before we broke into uncontrollable laughter. My granddaughter includes him in her prayers be it dinner or nighttime, and she still asks about him.
As I write this, it brings tears to know she is the only grandbaby who will remember his love for them, because my first grandson was too young. Will time rob my granddaughter of what she does remember? Will time rob us all of the details? They say time heals all wounds, but is it because the memories start to fade? Is that what needs to happen in order to learn to live without him? That thought makes me cry even more.
Today (2.25) would have been his 54th birthday. We would have gotten together for dinner, and the boys and their families would have come over to give him a card, tell him what a great Dad he is, and give him a hard time about getting older. He would play along and hype the age jokes, but he would have thoroughly loved simply having everyone at the house.
Instead, this year we’ll be getting together to remember what a great Dad he was. It just doesn’t seem fair. And by fair, I mean what I feel like should be done in order for me to not know this pain, for us to be like we used to be, my boys to have their father, my daughters-in-law to know his love for them, and the grandbabies to experience a fun-loving, spoil-you-rotten PaPa.
This last year has been a blur. I don’t remember much of the details. If I’ve frustrated you in any way, please forgive me—I didn’t mean to. It’s been hard to retain information and to remember conversations. I can’t remember if I sent thank-you notes for the kindnesses of so many people. I’ve had a hard time following through on things (more so than normal). People have been incredibly kind, and I’m not sure I’ve let them know how much I appreciate it. I think I did. I hope I did.
My year in reflection has a muffled sort of sound. God has been gentle and low key. From the gifts He gave our family weeks before my husband’s final moments, to things He put in place at that moment, to the full year of provisions, He has been faithful at every turn—even when my pain caused me to be anything but godly.
How does one know what to do in tragic moments like this? What tools do you have that will allow you to process such a deep pain? At its most raw and vulnerable place, it’s ugly, ungodly—it comes from an undignified root in our spirits.
God’s been unwavering in my rage, my endless whys, my cursing, and every punch I’ve wanted to throw. My out-of-control moments never scared Him away, nor did my ugly cry. His gentleness is unmatched in tears, snot, and pity parties for one. Even in the midst of falling apart there was an unmistakable buffer of peace. When a wave of despair would subside, I felt a blanket permeated with love and acceptance—He accepted me and my pain.
I’m not saying He agreed with how I acted or the things I said and did, but no one knows better than He that it was not supposed to be this way. Death, pain, and separation are not what He planned for us. He prepared a garden for us where we would walk and talk with Him daily. No pain, no worry, no stress, and certainly no death and separation.
No longer in the Garden of Eden and yet not our time to enter Heaven, we find ourselves in a complicated, painful middle. It’s full of questions and struggle, but as believers—those who have taken what Christ did on the cross and made it personal—we are not left without hope.
Why didn’t God answer my prayer, especially when I’ve seen so many others receive miraculous answers? Why didn’t God stop my husband’s death like He has for others? Why didn’t God lift His hand to change the course of that day and give us a second chance at more time together? As much as my heart has turned these questions over and over, I do not have the answers. I remain at the same place in my understanding and that is simply that some things belong to God.
In life’s most crushing circumstances, there is still One we can trust. When we don’t have the strength to stand and we can’t find the words to verbalize our pain, let’s lay ourselves across the One who did not lift His hand to stop the death of His one and only Son so that you and I can someday be reunited with our loved ones, too.
NOW LIVE LOVED and THRIVE!
Self-reflection
These questions are in no way a substitute for healthcare professionals or any level of professional counseling. I’m an advocate for taking care of oneself mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. These questions reflect my heart, NOT my profession.
This questionnaire is an opportunity to journal your thoughts and feelings. It can serve as a launching pad on which to evaluate your heart condition as you understand it. My hope is that you will take the truths you discover about yourself and hold them up to the Light to evaluate them against who God says you are.
- Have you ever been in a painful middle? Are you in a complicated middle right now?
- What questions did/do you have?
- Did/are you find(ing) answers to those questions? If so from where (i.e. Bible, prayer or from other people who have been there/done that)
- Has this experience changed you?
- If so, how will this change impact your quality of life?
- Do you need to make any changes that will get you back on track?
- If so, what type of changes do you need to make or what resources do you need to get connected to?
- Would you say God has been faithful through this experience? If so, how?
Use God’s word to take control over traumas in your life. Whenever you feel terrorized by your thoughts, take them captive by replacing them with the truth of God’s promises found in His word.
Print, then cut and carry this Scripture with you and/or post it in places where you will see it often. Ground yourself in God’s truths not Satan’s attacks. Encourage your heart and mind every time you are reminded of His great love for YOU!
Here is what God’s word says to encourage you and to give you an example of His unfailing, relentless, unending love for you:
Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.—Hebrews 10:23 (ESV)
When you read God’s Word say to yourself: When things get painful/tough/difficult we can remain confident in our hope in Christ because He is the faithful God who fulfills His promises. He remains faithful even when we’re not.
Now LIVE LOVED and THRIVE!
