And the two shall become...

Amputees call it phantom or ghost pains. That feeling that a missing limb is still there even when it's not. I'm sure it has to be frustrating. An itch you can't scratch. A pain you can't treat. I'm also sure that a new amputee probably forgets that limb is missing. For years you have always reached for something with your right hand. Now that hand isn't there but you reach for something with your arm not remembering for that brief moment that limb is missing. Not only is it frustrating but it's also a painful reminder of what is no longer there. 

Ghost pains of the heart are the same way. You can't scratch that itch. You can't tend to the pain. A part of your very soul is missing. The scriptures refer to marriage as the two becoming one. So, this new math also means that removing one from the two equals less than one. And here you are complaining about Common Core mathematics. 

Amputation has left me at less than one now. This removal of the love of my life has made me less of a man. Some moments my brain tricks me into thinking that the missing part is still there. I reach for the phone to call her. I'll reach my foot over in bed to find hers. I'll open the garage door. Any number of things can occur that make me act out of habit. But then realization sets in. And it sets in hard. 

Some days the overwhelming weight of it all will strike me causing me to lose focus. My eyes don't work right. Words get jumbled in my mind or disappear altogether. I'll say or text things to friends and wonder what the heck was I thinking? (Nothing like thinking you are telling a young female friend to let you know if you can do anything FOR her only to hit send and realize you text the word TO instead of FOR!) I travel in time in my mind to better days or to future events that I know won't be good. And before I know it an hour or two has passed and I don't know where the time went or how I got where I was. 

Last night a young boy saw the rings on my hand - both mine and Wanda's. he looked a me with a 6yo wonder and says, " You are married to two people?" No, son, I am only married to one.

And now, the one shall become less than one. and the ghost pains will be there for years to come.

Grieving aimlessly

After three months of grief you find yourself in a different place than you were the few weeks after your grief event. Your friends are all still there, but it's unfair to ask them to give up their lives and their happiness just because you no longer have yours. They have a life and you must let them live it. But that's not always easy to do. And, unfortunately for you, the numbness has just worn off and now is when you really need your friends. But this is now going to cause you to start working your way out of the grief crater. Prior to now you had people carrying you out. Now you are going to have to do some of the work on your own. And it's painful work. Now you are going to have to ask for help. For a guy, especially, that is a very tough thing to do. Asking for help means, in our minds, that we are not strong enough to do it alone. Admitting we can't do something is tough enough. Admitting we can't do something we could always do before, that's purt near impossible.

I have been blessed with friends and family that have hung in there past the numbness point. But it doesn't mean I can force myself to ask them for help. Yesterday, during the tsunami of grief that struck me, I found myself driving around in my truck aimlessly. I didn't know where I was going. I drove through the cemetery to see if they had put up my wife's headstone yet. They had not. But I couldn't get out of the truck. So I just found myself involved in a drive by grieving. After leaving there I started to think of where I wanted to go. Where I truly wanted to go was home to my family. Only I have no family to go home to. So I just drove and felt like Forrest Gump when he just decided to run. Only my carbon footprint was a little larger. Finally I found myself sitting in my truck in my garage (Although I closed the garage door, I did turn the engine off) and, in the front seat of my truck, with no one else around, I simply sobbed for a few minutes. Not crying, but that ugly, face contorting, snot running, shoulder shaking sob. And then I emerged. I came in the house and, unable to focus on anything, went to the living room and sat on the couch and watched nothing. No TV. No games. No DVD's. No iPad or iPhone. I just sat there not knowing what to do. And then it happened. A friend text me and asked me if I was going to the Men's meeting that night at church. I had already decided that this party of pity was going to keep me in for the night but, before I could stop them, my thumbs responded that they would be there. And, since I'm rather fond of the digits, I thought I would go too. 

Sometimes climbing out of the crater takes some effort of our own. And sometimes that effort comes when you feel at your weakest. But in my weakness, He is made strong. 

A very wise friend has asked me if I'm ever going to write a book. I told her I would be considering it once I get a little further along. Then she said, "wouldn't it help if you had more followers on your blog?" I hadn't given it some thought but she's probably right. So, this time and this time only I will ask that you follow me by clicking on the button in the upper right hand corner of the page. You will probably have to view this as a web page rather than from your mobile browser but there is a link also that allows you to do that. That's it. No more self-advertising. The rest is in your hands. If I can get enough followers I will consider writing the book. Thanks in advance. 

The tsunami strikes again

They hit you out of nowhere, these tsunamis of grief. And, while there are often signs of what triggers them some times you will not see the source. Oddly enough, for me, they usually follow a period of time where I think that things are getting better. I'll finish a day or two with fewer tears and think that perhaps I'm getting to a point where I can handle it. Then I'll hit moments like this where I wonder what the heck happened to my joy. 

Yesterday was an enjoyable day spent with wonderful friends. I tossed a football with a sweet young man and we both had smiles on our sweaty faces. His little sister sat with her cute little cheerleader outfit on next to me during the football game, and,even though my team lost, I went to bed that night with few tears as I thought of the smiles on the kids faces and the good adult conversation I was able to have throughout the day with their beautiful mother. 

As I climbed in bed I continued a ritual I've done for the last 26 years.  I reached my foot over to the other side of the bed. And, just like the 102 days before it, found no foot there to touch with mine. No reassuring touch to make me feel not alone. But, although I once again shed a few tears, they were not overwhelming sobs. I had enjoyed my day. Not just part of my day, but the whole day. 

And the happiness carried over to the next morning as the good memories of the day before overcame the bad memories of the previous three months. At least for a few hours. My bucket was full. The hole at the bottom that lets it slowly drain was draining at a slower rate than it was being filled. Then the tsunami came and knocked the whole darn thing over. So, today I will chase my bucket down and set it back in place. And I will slowly start trying to fill the bucket up. Unfortunately I cannot fill it alone. Fortunately I have friends that are quite willing and able to pour into it. 

One day the hole will only become a slight leak - just like the hole that was first put into my bucket seven years prior. The Lord has done a wonderful job of patching that hole for me. The reconstruction required for the other hole will take time. The hole is larger. Taking a 26 year chunk out of a bucket leaves a lot of damage. But the damage can be repaired. I know it can. I have to believe it. The alternative would be to horrible to contemplate. I'm believing in the repair and I know that God can do it. It's just going to take time. But I will get there. Later rather than sooner, I'm sure. But my heavenly gps is much better than anything Google or Siri could ever give me.

My journey continues. Thanks for going with me. 

The girl of my dreams

Some days start out better than others. And for that very reason, the fall from joy can be that much further and that much more painful. Take today for example. I awoke from a dream about my beloved. As I lay there I kept thinking back to the dream. You see, just before I slept I prayed that God would give me a dream about her. I needed to see her, hear her, and touch her again and the only way I can do that now is through a dream. I pray that prayer many nights and most nights I don't remember dreaming about her. But this morning I did. It was such a real dream that I stayed in bed past the time the alarm went off just to reflect on what I had dreamed. But then I had to face my day. 

Do you ever have those evenings where you feel more in love with your spouse than others? You had a date night where he or she treated you to a good meal and maybe a movie or other such entertainment. You fall asleep in each other's arms and everything is wonderful. You wake up in the morning still basking in the glow of the evening before. You can hardly wait for the work day to end so you can be with your love again. The next evening may not be as wonderful as the previous but you still can't wait to see them; hold them; and tell them you love them. That's the feeling that I woke with. It's amazing to me that I can be more in love with someone than the day before when we never interacted. But I am. 

And then comes the fall. I don't get to go home and tell her what a wonderful time I had and how much I love her. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever again. And so the party begins. But instead of crepe paper streamers marking the occasion, it is filled with streaming tears. Yes, the pity party has begun and I find myself the guest of honor again. I write this at work because I can't find myself going home to the empty house. I have no "but at least" at home. 

My beloved was the love of my life even when I failed to make her feel it. But I know in my heart that she knows that she truly was my one and only. She was, is, and always will be, the girl of my dreams. So perhaps I will go home. I will kick off my shoes and lay on the couch (after I out the shoes up of course because she would want it that way), and take a nap for a bit. For perhaps there I can once again be with the girl of my dreams. 

http://youtu.be/UoxXhD-Prb4

Thinking of you always

For those of you who have followed my journey on Facebook you may have already read this. I'm working on posting to my blog some of the posts that were liked the most. This little poem was one of those posts. 

Just because I'm not crying it doesn't mean I don't care

Just because there are no tears it doesn't mean I'm not aware

Of every moment without you

Cause I think about you

Always

Just because I'm still breathing it doesn't mean I'm alive

Just because the day is over it doesn't mean I'll make it through the night

Every moment without you 

I'm thinking about you

Always

Just because there's a smile doesn't mean that there's no pain

Just because I laugh it doesn't mean that I'm alive again

Every moment without you

I'm thinking about you

Always

Just because I can't live without you it doesn't mean I can't remember the past

Just because it hurts to breathe it doesn't mean I've breathed my last 

Every moment without you 

I'm thinking of you always

Always

The Life of a Perpetual Overcomer: The journey starts anew

I owe you, dear readers, an apology. I have not been posting at all of late. I have not copied my articles and pasted them here for you to read. I let life, and death get in the way. It's not that I haven't been writing, I just haven't been writing here. Previous blog posts have simply been about life in general and have not been focused on one particular thing. After the loss of my daughter several years ago I thought I would start writing about that and then start simply writing about simple musings of my mind.And that worked well. It kept the few of you who read the posts mildly entertained. But then it never really spoke of what the title of my blog site indicated that it should. So, please accept my heartfelt apologies. Beginning now I want to keep you all better informed of what the life of a perpetual overcomer is like.

I will begin this new journey by, one last time, posting a copy of the article I wrote for my local paper. This will be the last time I copy and paste an article. Instead I will write what my Facebook friends and followers have been reading over the last three months. This will keep me from continually boring them with stuff they probably don't want to read every day, and will give them a chance to read my thoughts if they are truly interested.

A little over seven years ago I was asked by the Hattiesburg American to join the stable of writers from the community. When I was first approached I thought I was a sympathy selection. My daughter had just passed away and I reasoned that I my submission was selected among the many offered because the editor at the time felt sorry for me. When I went to the office to meet the editor I was told that he had not realized I was THAT Kevin Harrison. It was only then that I felt that I was selected on the merits of my writing rather than sympathy. And so I wrote. I wrote what was on my heart.
The first few articles were all about my daughter. Lessons she had taught me. Things I had learned about grief. About life without her. As time progressed I began to find other topics to write about. Some entertaining. Some humorous. And, hopefully, some enlightening. My daughter was still at the front of my mind, but I found I could still write about life in general without always bringing her into the story. But even then I would include her by occasionally starting each sentence with a letter that, if lined up, would spell out that I loved My Beth.

For the last few months though, my articles have not been found on the pages of the American. Not because the editors didn’t want to print them, but because I had not submitted them.

When your life gets turned upside down you do what you can to cope. My daughter was my hero. All those years I thought I was teaching her when she was teaching me. She taught me to be a better dad. A better communicator. To have more patience. To stand for what I believe in. All these lessons I have learned about being a parent I did not get to put into practice again. Four miscarriages can keep you from testing these skills out on a new child. So I took what I learned and put it into practice with the children in my church nursery. Each week I would let these children fill my bucket for the next week. Four hours a week and I was good.
Until June. That’s when my world got flipped again. Now I’ve learned new lessons and I get to put old ones into practice. I’m learning again how to deal with the injustices of life. And I am remembering that I can only get through it with the faith that I have in God and the friends and family He has put in my life. So, after 26 years I find myself in a position I have never been in before. I am living alone. My Wanda won the race to her daughter’s side. One day I too will get to join them but until then I will still run this race to the best of my ability. And I WILL make it. For I am “pressed but not crushed; persecuted, not abandoned; struck down, but I AM NOT DESTROYED.”

I am writing again. I am journaling every day. Sometimes several times a day. And I am posting many of those journal entries on my Facebook page. It helps me and I am hoping it helps others. My place in this human race is to help others along. I hope that when this race is completed I will be able to cross the finish line in front of a multitude of believers. I do know at least two that will be there and I can hardly wait to see them.