Good Good Father
Over the weeks many people have talked to me about how
difficult many of those firsts will be.
However, a couple of those firsts came pretty quickly, like a couple of
weeks after Wes died we were already forced to celebrate his 55th birthday
without him and then the following week we had our first Christmas without
him. So, yes, the firsts are extremely
difficult. But, there are also
lasts. A number of weeks ago I went
through a very tough last, one that I had been putting off for a while. Wes’ laundry.
I knew this was going to be a painful time and so procrastinating seemed
like a much better option. Every t-shirt
that I pulled out of the hamper had a memory attached to it. His Coca-Cola t-shirt that he picked up in North
Carolina, his rugby shirt from Ireland, his blue jays t-shirt and a few of his
favorite golf shirts. I held each
t-shirt to my face breathing deeply, remembering the scent of him, before I carefully
placed them into the washer. Then a
while later I pulled them out of the dryer and lovingly folded them one last
time. I sat down beside the little pile
of his laundry and cried my heart out.
Lasts are definitely not easy.
Recently I walked out onto our back deck to check my dryer
vent that is on the west wall of the house and as I stepped out onto the deck I
nearly doubled over. Out of the corner
of my eye I saw the little alcove that’s on our deck and I remember the last
time we sat there. It was last summer
and it was a hot afternoon and the only shade we could find was in that small niche. Wes was having a good day, he didn’t even nap
that afternoon and we had such a great conversation, we were reminiscing,
laughing and watching the grandkids play.
That was the last time we relaxed together on the deck. The pain of remembering that experience was
sudden, it caught me completely off guard and caused me to immediately stop in
my tracks, but, it’s as if God needs to stop you in your tracks because he’s
offering you a beautiful visual of that one sliver of a moment in your life and
he doesn’t want you to miss it.
The pain slowly ebbs away and then the memory literally comes
to life right in front of you. You see
that moment being played out before your eyes and it’s so real that you can
hardly breathe. It’s hard to explain
unless you experience it, let’s see, how can I say this, it’s not just about the
seemingly simple act of remembering or reminiscing about something random, but
God takes a specific scene from your life and blesses you with a complete image
of that particular time. It’s like God wants
to remind me that he knows every detail of the life I shared here on earth with
Wes and that every one of those moments was so very important. It’s like he’s telling me that he’s seeing and
celebrating all those good times with me and that these memories will continue to be a
part of the ongoing experience of my life and that it’s okay to remember even
though it hurts.
And that’s a gift straight from Heaven.
Grieving will leave you emotionally drained and terribly broken,
yet somehow through all the pain there is a small window that God opens for you
and through it you can experience moments of peace. I’ve come to realize that I can’t run from my
grief and that the waterfall of tears that I often cry is a part of the healing
process. Grief hits you like a really
bad labor pain, you feel it coming, you know it’s going to hurt, but you have
to breathe through it and know that God is holding your hand every second. The pain will subside for that moment and
when you understand that God is there from beginning to end you also realize
that he brings with him healing, light and hope.
I stood on the deck, in the cold, on my socks and simply
stared into that corner alcove. The
tears froze on my face as I embraced the vision that God was blessing me with,
this wonderfully clear glimpse into the happiness that we shared on that lazy
Sunday and it is in that moment that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God
was there with us that afternoon, smiling, maybe even laughing with us, holding
us close, creating for us a special moment in our life together because he knew
that not too far down the road I would need to be reminded of this wonderful time
and that life was good, so very good.
It was God’s gift to me and I accepted it.
Often I feel as though I’m caught in some weird type of time
warp. I’m moving forward but there is a
current that continually pulls me back and reminds me that my life has been
forever changed. And I realize, even as
it’s happening that I can either fight or embrace those moments. I find when I embrace them and simply stop
and wait for the Father to show me what he has to teach me in that moment I am
blessed and I experience God’s overwhelming love for me. I also
know that when I stop and listen for God’s voice during those times that it becomes
obvious that he is reminding me over and over that he loves me and that he’s
there in the midst of the pain and he does that by jogging my memory with
beautiful moments that are filled with reminders of my husband’s love for me,
our little family’s love for one another and ultimately helps me to refocus on
God’s love for me as well.
I grieve because I have loved and been loved, God grieves
with me because he is love.
So, I’ve learned that grief is not about goodbye; it’s not
even about letting go. It’s about
embracing the life I had and feeling privileged to have experienced the love that
I did with Wes, as painful as that still is. And I know that I will always need to trust
that God will carry me for as long and as far as he needs too, which will be
until I can join him and Wes in Heaven.
God is ever so patient and these past months he has blessed me beyond
what I could have ever asked or imagined.
Throughout our marriage, no matter what was happening Wes always told
me, “Don’t worry, God will take care of us!” and what a gift those words have
been to me these past months.
Wes was so right! God has
taken care of me and surprised me over and over again. He really is a good good father.
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