A Love Letter
Dear Wes,
Today would have been our
34th wedding anniversary. I’ve begun this letter a few
times; never quite sure how to go beyond...Dear Wes…
How do I begin to share
about the life I live now after “death did us part?”
We are surviving, we move
ahead, but not quite with the same joy we had when you were here. The little ones are growing, Brooklyn has a
few teeth now and she’s standing up along the furniture now. Kinsley is still as busy and quirky as ever,
she still talks about ‘Papa’ The other day I heard her singing, Papa, papa, papa… Dominic
and Blaique are growing up so fast. They
would like to ride their bikes without training wheels and I know that you
would have taken the time to run alongside them as they learned, holding their
bikes in place until they got their balance, cheering them on. They still ask about you too. Blaique often mentions how much she misses
you and there are very few pictures she draws for me that you aren’t
in.
For
all of us life is not the same, yet there are moments when I see glimpses of you
in our sons. Your devotion to work and
family is reflected in both and they often echo your dry sense of humor. They
are expressions of your legacy: the proof of us. I think Tina misses how you
cared for our family and especially for her, I’m pretty sure
you spoiled her a bit since you never had a daughter to do that for and I’m
so glad you could do that in the short time she had with you.
We
sang “Great
are You Lord” in church this morning, it
was hard singing that song since we sang it at your funeral, but it was good to
praise God even through the tears.
Nic
surprised me at church today, he knew it would be a hard day and he wanted to
be there for me. That meant a lot. He even took me out for lunch since he knew
he wouldn’t be around for Mother’s
day. We had a good afternoon. We reminisced a lot about you, rehashing
stories that you would tell us about things that happened to you on the road or
here on the farm. Lots of laughter.
Sometimes
it’s
hard to know how to live here without you.
Often when I’m with a crowd of people I
want nothing more than to go home and be alone and then when I’m
home alone I sometimes long to be with people.
I said to someone the other day that I can walk into the office laughing
and talking and within 5 minutes I can be crying because I miss you so much. It’s
crazy how this grieving thing plays with your emotions. I forget things a lot more easily now, I have
to put every single appointment or lunch and coffee date in my phone or I can’t
remember when, where or who I’m meeting. I sometimes have to ask everyone at work to
repeat instructions because if I don’t write it
down I may not remember by the time I walk away from their desk. I used to feel so on top of things and now so
often I feel that I can’t keep my life in order.
I’m
still keeping the truck running like you asked me too. Riley is a good driver and he’s
a very kind young gentleman. He’s
going to be a dad and I know he’ll be a good dad. You would have really enjoyed working with
him. He’s taking
such good care of your truck and he’s going to
help me take care of the yard so I can stay on the farm and I know that that
would ease your mind. I don’t want to be anywhere else
right now because this is where all our memories are and I think you of all
people would totally understand that.
It
was so warm out today, I wish we could sit on the deck and talk like we used
too or go for a ride in the hills and I could listen to you reminisce about
spending time out there with Grandpa Giesbrecht and Uncle Peter & Aunt
Vicky. I miss spilling my heart out to
you when I’m feeling hurt or
misunderstood, because you always had my back; I wish you were here to give me
advice or to encourage me and I especially miss laughing with you. I really miss your smirk and quick wink to
let me know you love me.
I
had a dream about you this week, I think because last Sunday marked 5 months
since you passed and because our anniversary was coming up my thoughts have
been completely focused on you. But, the
dream was very comforting. You were
playing with a bunch of children, calling them over to you and you had a large
box that you wanted to show them. It was
suspended off the ground and you were laughing and teasing them. You touched the top of the box and it opened
from the bottom and all sorts of toys fell out for the kids to play with and
they were so excited. I saw you laughing
because you saw that the children were so happy. I can’t even
imagine what you are experiencing in Heaven, but I’m
grateful for every glimpse of Heaven God does give me and he’s
given me some pretty amazing glimpses.
You always said that we need to trust that God will give us what we need
when we need it and he has.
I
think you’d be proud of me, I bought a
truck just like we talked about and West Park was as kind as they’ve
always been and now the boys don’t have to worry quite so
much about me being out on the road in an unreliable vehicle. I managed to put the swings up for the
grandbabies, I changed the filter in the furnace and I’ve
been using your tools to fix little things around the house.
Oh,
and before I forget, I found the note that you had hidden away in your sock
drawer. The one that I had written, oh I
don’t
know, probably years ago. I never
realized how much you treasured all the notes I wrote to you over the
years. I’ve been
finding them here and there tucked lovingly away. You were always way more romantic than you
led anyone to believe.
Well,
we didn’t make it to our 34th
anniversary, but as I told you over and over in the hospital, “Thank
you for the best 33 years of my life!” I’m so glad I
got to spend them with you! I can hardly
wait to see you again! What a day that
will be!
Lately
I’ve
been listening to the song Thy Will Be Done, by Hillary Scott. It’s beautiful
and shares what’s on my heart better than I
can put into words.
I
miss you so much!
With all my
love,
Dinah
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