For Better or... What???

Grief changes you. No doubt about it. There is no way that you can't let it change you. But you can decide how it will change you. Especially in the loss of a spouse. Never before has "for better or worse" rung so true. 

During my first journey of grief I can recall sitting at a pizza place waiting for the order I called in 30 minutes earlier. They asked my name. They asked my phone number. Then they came back and told me it should be just about ten more minutes... What kind of pizza was it that I ordered? Everything in me wanted to say, "Really? Can't anything go right?" Here I was a couple of weeks out from losing that which was so precious to me and now I can't even get a pizza order? What did I have to do to get a break in this life? I sat in a chair and just glared at the empty pizza rack. Then it struck me. How does the displeasure of not getting my pizza order in a timely fashion compare to the gut wrenching pain of losing a child? It doesn't. It's petty. And thus there was my turning point. In the pizza restaurant, flour floating in the air, God came to me and made me adjust my priorities. From that point on my wife and I both made a point to say to ourselves, "This is not a life and death situation. Treat it as such."

It's not that I don't still get angry at the little injustices of life. I do. But just not as quickly. I still want my pizza on time. I still want people to admit that they have made a mistake rather than give me an excuse. I've always felt that there is a fine line between an excuse and a reason and I don't like excuses. But if they aren't life threatening then they aren't worth threatening someone's life! And maybe not even their job. 

During my second lap on grief's track I must confess it is a little more difficult to let some of the injustices go. It gets harder and harder to again keep from saying, "Really? Can't anything go right?" Or its sister quote, "How much more can life throw at me?" It's like I decided to throw all of life's crap right into a fan but didn't step out of the way as it flew back on me. But then I remind myself how blessed I am. I live in the greatest country in the world. I have the best parents and wonderful family and in-laws. I couldn't ask for a better group of friends. I have gotten so much more than I deserve. I got to spend most of my life with the most beautiful woman in the world and for 15 years of our life together we got to spend time with the best daughter anyone has ever had the honor of raising. 

I would be lying if I said that grief hasn't changed me. What I'm praying is, as my journey continues, that the changes are for the good. I promised my bride, "for better or worse." But that promise wasn't for her. That promise was for me. And it was a vow I intend to keep. For the honor of the most beautiful woman in the world.  

Thanksgiving in Heaven

I imagine that Thanksgiving, that purely American holiday, is still celebrated in heaven. But I imagine it is celebrated every day. All day.

This morning, as I was trying to force myself to get up and face the day I began to think about how my family is celebrating in heaven. I realize that the average day in heaven is quite different than what we go through here on earth, but if it went like an earthly day perhaps it would go like this:

My wife awakens in her bed and rolls over, without morning breath (because I can't imagine morning breath in heaven), and gathers her sleeping children to her. Beth is enjoying being a big sister to her siblings (I can hardly wait to meet them), but she refuses to give up her mother's arm as she snuggles close. Wanda was never a morning breakfast kind of person but she sits up and lets the little ones bring her breakfast in bed. The breakfast tray has eggs and toast the way I taught Beth to make them. There are also pancakes with designs on them just the way Wanda used to do for Beth. The setting is pure silver and the plates are of the finest China trimmed in gold. Small salt and pepper shakers made of the clearest crystal are at the right side of the tray. There is a fine linen napkin beneath the silverware but it's not needed because no one spills anything in heaven. 

After breakfast and some time of play my family gets up and dresses in the most beautiful clothes. I imagine they are all dressed in matching outfits (I'm sorry if one of our children was a boy but Beth would insist you wear one like your mom and sisters). When they venture outside they don't need sunglasses even though the light is blinding. There is no need to climb in a car but there is one parked in the mansion driveway because Beth insisted they have one so she could name it. They leave the car in the driveway and walk to the street. Of course it is made of gold. The ground is so clean that Wanda lets everyone keep their shoes on when they are in the house. The sky is the brightest blue with fluffy white clouds. The kids run up and down the road saying hi to all of your loved ones that are up there. Everyone is walking. And they are all walking in one direction. 

"Are we headed to the throne, mom?" asks our littlest one. 

"Not yet, sweetheart. We are headed to a banquet. We are going to have Thanksgiving lunch with the King!" replies my wife. 

The banquet hall is spacious and filled with more people than you could ever imagine. In spite of the crowd Beth instantly spots Papaw and then Granny. They look so beautiful. So full of life. Beth sees Great Uncle Bill and runs and jumps in his arms like she did when she was just a little child. He takes her over so they can sit with GiGi and, although she never got to meet him on earth, GiGi's husband - her great-grandfather. 

As everyone sits and prepares to eat, the prayers are said. Only this time everyone is keeping their heads up and their eyes open as they gaze upon the God that is great, the God that is good, that they are thanking for their food. 

And what food there is! The three youngest are asking for their second helping of manna while Beth, her mom, and the second oldest child are already on to dessert. And, knowing Wanda, the dessert will be something made of chocolate resting on a bed of chocolate topped with chocolate sauce. Whatever sweets they want to indulge in are available. Vegetables even taste good. No one moves food around on their plates or sneaks food to a dog at their feet because they don't like something. What looked like only a small amount of food before the blessing, never runs out and yet there are no leftovers. 

Now they get to go to the throne! The kids are so excited - as are the adults - as they gather across the crystal sea. Here they are reunited with all of their friends and family members. They look to the throne as the king comes out. Songs of praise ring out across the sea. Millions raise their voices to sing holy, holy holy to the Lord God Almighty. After their praise subsides the crystal sea becomes like a large screen TV and they all surround the sea and begin cheering for their friends and family as the race on earth continues. Beth thinks it is so cool to be standing next to Moses and hearing him cheer her daddy on. 

As the day comes to a close, my family joins hands and walks back to our mansion. The littlest one holds both Beth and her momma's hands so she can run and jump and swing as mom and Beth half carry her home- just the way Beth did with her mom and dad when she was little. As they reach home they stop on the doorstep and watch to see which colors God is going to use for the sunset. Beth put in her request, but tonight the colors some from someone else's palate. Perhaps, dear reader, it was your loved one whose request was heard this time. Regardless, Beth is not disappointed as the colors are still beautiful. After the sunset they turn to go back inside and Beth stops and whispers to a butterfly who leaves her side and flutters to earth so that dad can be reminded that he is still loved. The butterfly joins thousands of others as they descend to earth to wait for their morning delivery to their intended audience. 

Bedtime comes with no fussing. Instead the children are excited to sleep so they can visit loved ones in their dreams. Sleep comes easy. And, just before she closes her eyes, Wanda rolls over and looks at Beth and tells her she loves her but she is only keeping daddy's spot warm until he gets there. Beth's only response is a smile as she closes her eyes and dreams of visiting daddy again. 

At least that's how I imagine it to be. Happy Thanksgiving to all. 

Bbbbbbird, bird, bird. Bird is the word.

I'm thankful for my family and my friends. I cannot count the number of people who have invited me to spend Thanksgiving Day with them. And each one of you are such a blessing to me even as I turned your invitation down. There are just too many good memories to be shared around your Thanksgiving dinner table. Memories to share of holidays past. Great memories. And you don't need me there to spoil that.  You will probably make even more memories as you look at the spread before you and wonder how you will ever eat all of it. And you won't. Many of you come to the meal with containers empty and ready to take leftovers home with you. You'll laugh and eat until you are about to burst. The men will all unbuckle their pants to allow a little more breathing room and retire either to the living room to watch football or to the fields for hunting. 

This Thanksgiving I will not be making wonderful memories over a freshly carved turkey. I will not have to turn down someone's offer of a spoonful of dressing or cranberry sauce. I will not smell the apple pie baking or drink my weight in sweet tea. I have chosen to be alone. 

Please don't worry about me. I will be fine. I will treat it as I would any other off day. I will sleep in. I'll probably work in the yard. I will sit on the couch and watch some football. I do have some deli sliced turkey in the fridge so I will probably have a turkey sandwich to remain true to tradition. I will probably fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon and blame tryptophan. And I'll probably dream of John Madden trying to say tryptophan. I love Jesus, but I do drink a little. But not to forget. I can never forget and will never try to drown sorrows that way. Instead I will raise a silent toast to those no longer with me. 

The family I no longer have with me physically will look at me behind wooden and plastic frames scattered around the house and wonder why I am still there. I am still there because they are still there. Their very essence permeates the rooms. It is here that I feel closest to my wife and daughter. It is here that I feel I need to be. It is here that most of my memories can come flooding back. 

Don't weep for me. Don't worry about me. I'm learning to be alone and this is my first major test. I have friends coming in the evening so I will not be alone the entire day. I'm even trying my hand at cooking... well, at preparing snacks. I think my first solo run at the homemade cheese ball is a success. I've even bought stuff to fix a real breakfast in the morning. 

Getting through the last several holidays without my little girl has been tough. But together Wanda and I made it. Getting through the holidays without either of them will be a greater challenge. How I handle this day will determine my approach to both Wanda's birthday and then Christmas. Personally I think it will all hinge on the cheese ball. 

Grey Skies are Gonna Clear Up

In case you haven't figured it out, life just isn't fair sometimes. We don't get what we deserve sometimes and sometimes we do. And sometimes that's a good thing. And other times it's not. In talking with a friend this weekend I commented on how we must focus on what we do have rather than what we don't have. When we have a lot of good things in front of us to focus on its much easier to focus on that. But in moments of stillness, that which we don't have becomes more prominent. It fills up the window we are looking through making it impossible to see what we have to be thankful for. 

Driving down the road today through the neighborhood I couldn't help but notice how vibrant the colors were. Reds were a little deeper. Yellows a little brighter. And, in the waning hours of daylight the colors left the trees and moved to the horizon. As I topped a hill where I could see better over the trees I could see the colors bleed across the sky into eternity.

I came home to a lawn blanketed by a layer of leaves that were not the pretty reds and yellows. Instead there was a carpet of dirty brown as the life and color leached out of what was once quite beautiful. It was then that I came to the realization that I am in the Fall of my life. The color is fading. What was once filled with beauty is now covered with scars of pain and grief. 

Beneath the dirty brown leaves life continues. But all that is alive is now below the surface searching for what once was. The nourishment that's been missing for the last five months. Fortunately the roots of life go deep. The life is not over, I've just come to a new season. And winter isn't far behind. 

Winter. Although it doesn't happen here in South Mississippi very often, a few inches of snow can cover the brown with a false sense of clean. A beautiful blanket of white that, if thick enough, covers the dirty brown completely. But it's only a momentary beauty. The ugly remains a warm spell away. 

But I haven't given up hope. I know that there are plans for me. I know that there are people to reach out to. People for me to help heal. And people to help heal me. 

Fall will be painful and winter will only serve as a reminder that I no longer have anyone here to help keep me warm. 

But I've got news for you. Spring is coming. 

Play the Game Tonight

The remains of the storm had blown through as I prepared for a step in my journey I knew I needed to take but didn't want to. In this year of new firsts I was about to face another. And although I knew I had a network of friends to support me, I let very few know what I was about to do. You see, there comes a time when you get tired of seeing that face. The one that we all possess. And this morning I had spoken with someone else who knew she too would see that face. It almost makes a soul not want to venture out. It is the face of sympathy. The head is tilted slightly as you hear the words, "So, how are you doing?" I didn't want to see that face or hear those words because to do so meant that what I was about to face was as difficult as I imagined it was going to be. 

The event I was about to endure was a worthwhile event. I've attended faithfully for the last 7 years around this time each year. And, one advantage of going to this event was that I would not see the sympathy face since others attending would be focusing on their own losses. 

Today I attended my first Christmas tree decoration of the year. But this tree is unlike any one you will encounter in a home. This tree does not have gifts shoved under the lowest hanging boughs. Instead the gifts are already given and pictures of what once held those gifts are scattered on nearly every branch of this tree. You see, this particular Christmas tree is placed in our local mall to honor those individuals who gave the gift of life to others through the selfless act of organ and tissue donation. Each year the Mississippi Organ Recovery Agency invites donor families to place a picture of their beloved donor on this tree in honor of the sacrifice they made. But the true sacrifice was witnessed on the faces of the dozens of people gathered around this tree. The donors had given what they would no longer need while those gathered around the tree had given what they would love to have back - their loved one. 

It was my hope that the sympathy face would not show up at an event that brought together so many that had lost so much. And, had I only placed one picture on the tree, that's probably what would have happened. But I had a second picture to place this year and the sympathy face came out in full force. And if you've ever experienced an overload of the sympathy face you know that it becomes even more difficult to hold it together. 

Tonight I placed the pictures of the two people I have loved most in my life on this tree. I know that the people whose lives they saved are very thankful that those pictures are there. And I know that Wanda and Beth would be proud of the lives they were able to save. But, being brutally honest here, I wish someone else had stepped up to save those lives. I wish I didn't know as much about organ donation as I did. I wish that I had gotten to know all of the new friends that I have made through organ donation some other way. But I don't get my wish. Instead I get to fight off Angry Me one more time. 

This year, as you think about the things you are thankful for, be thankful for two things specifically. Be thankful that you have your loved ones with you this holiday season. And, secondly, be thankful that there are individuals and families who were willing to make the sacrifice so that others may experience Christmas with their loved ones. For they received the greatest gift - the gift of life. 

And, if like me, you can't be thankful for those things, then I pray that God brings you peace for Christmas. That, and very few sympathy faces. 

The Leader of the Band

Sometimes we can find things to keep us from our grief. And sometimes those can be good things. And sometimes they can be not so good things. This week I experienced a lot of the latter. 

Last Monday found me planning a trip to the hospital to check up on my brother who had to spend a few days there due to surgery. This followed a trip earlier in the month to see him in the same hospital as the doctors diagnosed what was going on with him and the steps needed to remedy the problem. So, in other words, I've been to the hospital twice this month. Fortunately it was not THE hospital. I still can't do that. But it was a hospital nonetheless. The same whirs, buzzes, beeps, smells, and sights exist in every hospital. Whirs, buzzes, beeps, smells, and sights that I'm all too familiar with as I sat by Wanda's bedside the last five days of her life here on earth. But, when its family, you do what you have to do. And I love my brother very much and needed to see him even if he didn't need to see me. 

During this last visit we had a few minutes alone and I sat and watched him sleep. The quiet and stillness in the room worked their magic on me as well and I nodded off for a couple of minutes myself. That's all it took for us to have a couple more visitors as my wife and my daughter walked in the room hand-in-hand. Wanda was wearing dark blue scrubs and Beth was probably about nine or ten years old. They walked right in the door and smiled at me and then at Uncle Paul. And then I woke up. But that picture is seared in my mind. 

The nurse came in a few minutes later to check on him so I stepped out of the room. I hated to see my brother in pain and I knew there was about to be a little pain as she cleaned his surgical incisions. I stood in the hallway trying to grasp what I had just seen in my mind's eye. My wife and daughter had to come check up on Uncle Paul. I have had a number of dreams about Wanda the last five months but this was the first I could remember of both of them together. 

When my parents walked up a few minutes later I was standing in the hallway. I couldn't tell them about the dream. As a matter of fact, they are finding out about it probably through this blog. I couldn't tell them because I knew what it was like to sit and watch your child in a hospital. And the last thing I needed to do was to start the waterworks. And this time at the hospital was not about me and my loss. It was about my brother and the focus needed to remain on him. But I did send him a text to tell him that Wanda and Beth came to see him. 

If I had not been there I wouldn't have seen my family. I doubt I would have had the same dream in the comfort of my own home. I think sometimes God puts us in places where we are going to be uncomfortable. He tests us to see if we are willing to put our own needs aside and still value others better than ourselves. (Philippians 2:3) In the midst of this uncomfortable time God can give us peace and reward us for our faithfulness. God gave me a gift that day. And I didn't mind sharing that gift with my brother. Not at all. 

You put your heart in, and you shake it all about

Earlier this month I recognized (there is no celebration this side of heaven) my daughter's birthday. Unlike other times, I did it without my wife at my side. And the week leading up to it was extremely emotional. But the days that followed have been surprisingly easier. I have filled those days with people and events that have been wonderful distractions. And there is no doubt that has made it easier. As I have been making progress at replacing the grief in my life with new relationships and functions I find myself in a moment of peace. But those moments can be fleeting. Today, with no real thought in my head but recapping the day's events and preparing for the busy day and week ahead I was suddenly overcome by another tsunami of grief. And, like an underwater earthquake, the source was unseen but the effects were devastating nonetheless. 

I know what it is that I want to replace the grief. I want what the grief replaced. I want that same person at my side that has helped me grieve the loss of our daughter through her last seven birthdays. But I also know that I will not get this wish. Rather than focus on the difficult days to come in the coming 6 weeks I flashed back to the lyrics to an unsung song I wrote around the ten week mark. I went back and retread it and realized that I cannot say how I feel now any better than I did then so I will share it with my blog readers rather than just my Facebook followers. I hope you recognize the grief that comes out of nowhere. But I also want you to recognize the hope that comes in the future. 

Night Falls

The days are long but filled with friends

Friends who help to carry the load

But they can't help but ask me again

How I was able, able to let you go

And I smile and say it's all in God's hands

That I am able as I lean on His grace

That I know, I know He has a plan

And one day I'll finally see her face

But when night falls it falls so hard

And the silence the silence is so loud

And I cry out and wonder where you are

Cause there's nothing I want more than to see you now

Another day another smile on my face

Placed there for all the world to see

And if they ask me, I know what I'll say

My God has given, He's given me this peace

And I'll turn away these tears in my eyes

And do my best to show you I'm strong

You'll see I can, I can put up the fight

And tell you that it won't be too long

But when night falls it falls so hard

And the silence the silence is so loud

And I cry out and wonder where you are

Cause there's nothing I want more than to see you now

And in that moment I'm weak

And I fall to the ground

When all that I seek

Is the joy I'd found

And I lift up my eyes

And I lift up a cry

And lift up the question

And ask you why

Then you wipe all my tears 

And you help me to stand

And you calm all my fears

And you show me I can

When night falls and it falls so hard

And the silence the silence is so loud

And I cry out and you show me you are

There for me, you're there for me now. 

You're there for me now. 

Hey baby, I'm your handy man

I wish that seven years ago I had come to the understanding that I have today. As I have mentioned in previous blog posts, I now believe that anything or anyone I put in my life is not a replacement for Beth or Wanda. Although they took a part of my heart with them when they were taken from me, they are not irreplaceable. Now, before you get up in arms about that last statement, please hear me out. I believe that both Beth and Wanda have already been replaced. They were not replaced by another person, another activity, work or anything tangible. The minute they left me they were already replaced. By grief. Every bit of their existence now is relegated to history. But as they were once totally woven into the fabric of my life, now grief is there in their stead. 

After losing Beth I never looked for a replacement. Sure, "Uncle" Kevin has a lot of little ones that I get to love on and spend time with. But they did not replace Beth. Beth is no longer with me. Instead I have grief. And over the last seven years I have slowly been replacing that grief. And I have replaced that grief with children of all ages. That point was driven home today when I was reminded what it was like to be a father. A young friend of mine lost her father at an early age. When she goes through trials in her life I am pleased that she looks to me as a father figure. And I get to see her as a surrogate daughter. She did not replace Beth. She replaced part of the grief. Today, as I held her and tried my best to comfort her, I remembered what it was like to hold Beth and comfort her when her young heart was hurting. Lately the focus of my grief has been for the loss of my wife. Today my focus was turned back to my daughter for awhile. Today I got to be a dad for awhile. And, like a dad, I got to lend a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on, and perhaps even some words of comfort. And, like when I was a dad, I don't know if I said or did anything to make it better. But I was there for her. And, it turns out, she was there for me.

After losing Wanda I haven't looked for a replacement. There is no way I can replace her. But I can replace the grief. I'm trying to be very cautious in what I replace grief with because sometimes, when Angry Me shows up, I don't care what I replace it with, just so long as it gets replaced. But I'm getting better at keeping Angry Me locked away when it comes to important decisions. I think I'm just saving him for the golf course. Or for when I watch the Saints play. 

If you are experiencing loss and you worry that you're looking to replace what is lost, you can't. It's already been done. What it is time to focus on now is what we will choose to replace the grief. Choose wisely because the last thing we want to do now is replace grief with something doesn't fit. 

Carry on my wayward son

I spend a lot of time thinking about impressions. Going on this grief journey I worry sometimes about things that should be pretty low on the list. What do people think when they see me with a smile on my face? What do they think when they catch me wiping away a tear? What do they think when they see me out with a pretty young lady? What do they think when they see me out with a handsome young man?! Yes, I worry about the impression I leave with people. 

Angry Me doesn't worry so much about impressions and so that worries me. When he shows up I do my best to limit my contact with others. I know that many of my friends would be understanding if Angry Me were to scream, yell, drink, use obscenities, and throw things. Especially my golfing buddies. But you would be a little less understanding if Angry Me showed up in your living room. Or in front of your kids. So Angry Me stays home most days. I don't want to let him out and ruin any impression I may have on others. 

You never know when you leave an impression either. Today my mother called to tell me that she spoke to a woman I don't know who asked her if she was my mom. This lady didn't know me directly. I happen to be a friend of a friend. But still, she seemed to have a favorable impression of me. Secondary impressions are even more difficult to control. 

Last week I took my wedding band off as well as Wanda's that I was wearing on my pinkie next to mine. Her rings have been on my finger since the funeral. I put them there for safe-keeping and never took them off. On Monday morning last week I decided to take them off. As soon as I returned from work I put them back on. I wasn't quite ready after all. I tried again Friday and was successful for a bit longer. But I still felt the need to have them near me. So I put them on a chain around my neck. They hang there with a dog tag that Wanda's mom evidently had made for her while she was working with the National Guard (Yes, Wanda's mother wore army boots. No, it turns out that's not a good thing to say to your future wife on your first date).

So why did I take the rings off my fingers only to wear them around my neck? For two reasons. The first was because I felt I would never look for joy as long as I had them on. I'm not ready to move on romantically but I am ready to start looking for companionship. People to spend time with. The second reason was "impressions." During this journey I worried about what people would think about me when they saw me out. Would they get the impression that I was moving on? Would they be happy or mad if they thought I was? But then I began to be a little less selfish and started to think about the person I was with. Specifically if I was out with a member of the opposite sex. I began to think about people who may not know me but might know my dinner companion. Would they think she was out with a married man? What rumors would fly that could damage the impressions that she has made over the years with others? Especially secondary impressions. 

I know many of my dear readers would tell me not to worry about what others think and to just live for me and look for that much needed joy. And I hear you. While Angry Me couldn't care less, I have to realize that it's not all about Angry Me. I will continue to try my best to make good impressions. I will continue to try to be a good witness in all I say and do. Occasionally Angry Me will screw it all up, but hopefully the good impressions I've made will outweigh the bad.

As I look at my ring finger, naked for the first time in 26 years, I realize that the greatest impression on this earth is evidenced by that ring. There is an impression on my ring finger that will probably be there for quite some time. The impression that my beloved made in my heart will never go away. 

If you're happy and you know it...

Most of the time, when you, my dear reader, come across one of my recent blog posts you begin to steel your heart. I've even been told by some of my friends that they have chosen to not read some of my posts because it makes them cry and exposes their own vulnerability. So maybe this post is for them. But I really believe that this is really targeting those who have been grieving their loss. This post comes from a speech I gave about a year after losing my daughter but it's still relevant today after losing my beloved. 

We all have something in common. You know what it is? It's how we treat a remote control when the batteries start to die. We begin by banging the remote on the arm of the chair, the palm of our hand, or the coffee table trying to get it to work a little better. Eventually it's just no use. You have to take the little battery cover off and spin the batteries to see if that works. Then you begin pushing the buttons a little harder. And when that doesn't work you use your best marksman's eye and really concentrate your aim while trying to "throw" the signal to the TV. The last thing you want to do is get up and go put new batteries in it. So, you leave the channel on the National Geographic documentary on the termite mounds in Australia. Eventually someone else will change the batteries for you. 

I know that, for a post about grief, that seems out of context. And, if you're reading this you may have been looking for comfort and not post on TV remote controls. But what I want you to focus on now is the battery. But let's look at the battery in a cell phone instead. 

When you first got your cell phone you could charge it and it would last you a good long time. The old flip phones, and even the old analog, heavy as a brick, phones would go for days before needing a new charge. But over time that full charge didn't last four days any more. In fact, after a couple of years you were lucky that the charge lasted all day. 

Our happiness is like that. We once knew what a full charge was like. It lasted a good long time. Then suddenly we find ourselves with a charge that doesn't last as long when it's full. But the charge is full. It's just that the full level isn't what it once was. Our bucket of joy can be full again, but the happiness doesn't stretch as far as it once did. But we can be happy. It's just a new level of happiness. 

But we can't be happy, can we? Isn't that an insult to our loved one? If we smile or, God forbid, laugh, won't people think we are over our loss? Well, based on my experience from seven years ago I can say that our loved one did not leave us so that we would be miserable. They want us to be happy just like they wanted us to be happy when they were at our side. We just feel guilty about having something or someone in our lives that could make us smile or laugh again. But it is what our loved ones want, isn't it?

Perhaps it's time to change our batteries. Perhaps it's time to realize that this new level of happiness is okay. Perhaps it is time to forgive ourselves for feeling happy or laughing and smiling. Perhaps it is time for us to thank our loved ones who left us for teaching us how to live, love, and laugh and for us to take that lesson and share it with others. 

Waiting for a girl like you

People ask me why I write. Why I share. Why I place my emotions out there for all to see. The only answer I have is because it is what I am meant to do. I don't know any other reason than to say that I am compelled by God to do so. But why would God want me to write and share? Why would God want my wife and daughter with Him and me here alone? I don't know the answer to either. But I can venture a guess at the first one. 

When we lost our only child we thought we were going crazy. We had this whole jumble of emotions and we just knew those emotions were exclusive to us. When we began to read books dealing with loss we began to understand that the thoughts, emotions, and ideas were not ours alone. Many others who had travelled similar paths had experienced similar emotions. So my guess is that God wants me to share so that others who embark on this journey can also feel like they are not alone. And this is why I share what I feel will provide guidance and instruction. 

But then there are days I just share raw emotion. And maybe sometimes those blog posts are meant just for me. Perhaps they are just there as mile markers on this campaign so that I can look back and see how far I've come. Today may just be one of those days. 

I don't know whether I am trying to fool myself but I feel like this is all one big test. If I pass this test then Wanda will walk back in the door and jump in my arms. It feels so real and I long for the test to be over and for me to get that reward. I keep the house relatively clean. I take my medicine and vitamins like a good boy. I tithe and give of my resources and time. I do all the things that I did before plus the things that Wanda did so that when she does walk in the door she will have nothing to do other than wrap her arms around me and hold me. 

Then it hits, runs over me, and leaves me as roadkill. She isn't coming back. She's never coming back. She can't come back. This isn't a dream. This isn't temporary. This is permanent. The happiness I had with her is now history. It is only to be relieved in my memories. The thirty-two pillows that she placed on our bed (I exaggerate - but only slightly) get piled onto her side as I sleep so I can pretend there is someone there. I call the house phone just so I can hear her voice on the answering machine. I look through her notes from work that I could never understand but allow me to imagine her in the strokes of her pen. I pretend that the lipstick post-it note kiss is fresh and not stained by tears. I pretend the only way I know how but at the end of the day I am left to hear only the grinding of the gears of my thoughts as they try to keep fresh memories that fade every day just a little more. 

Yes, this post may just be for me. And perhaps sharing raw emotion isn't the best idea. But then again, perhaps people need to realize that I am human. And at moments like these I feel more human than ever. 

Strolling on the water

Sometimes what the Lord shows us was there all along, we just have to be in the right frame of mind to receive it. Recently I read a story in the scripture that I know I've read at least a thousand times. One of those stores that you see running like a movie in your head. And, regardless of how many times I've read it, something stood out to me this time. 

Matthew 14:22-33 tells the story of Jesus walking on the water. In this particular gospel the story goes on to tell us that Peter went out to Jesus himself but was scared and sank. In my mind I picture a lake similar to one nearby. So what I see is a calm lake and Jesus walking across it as if it were ice. But that's not what the scripture says. The scriptures, in each gospel account of this story, say that a wind had come out and the waves had buffeted the boat and pushed it miles from the shore. 

So here are a few things that leap out at me from this story. First, Jesus was walking through the waves to reach us. He didn't calm the waves to get there. He didn't make the wind die down for his journey. I don't know why it seems like more of a miracle that he walked on the waves versus a calm surface, but it does. I believe that this tells me that sometimes God will travel through our troubles to reach us. 

The next thing I noticed is that Jesus did not calm the waves so Peter could come out to walk with him. No, Peter had to take a step of faith and join Jesus in the midst of the waves. Peter could see all of the trouble around but he still had to step out in faith to reach God. I believe God says that sometimes we have to have the faith to walk through the pain and trouble to reach our goal. 

Yet another thing I noticed was that Jesus did not tell Peter to turn around and climb back in the boat because he was in trouble. Instead, he took Peter by the hand and walked with him- not behind him at a distance nor ahead. I imagine it to be like when we teach a child to ride a bike. We run alongside them holding on to the back of the seat until we can let them go. And the child looks back on occasion to make sure mom or dad are hanging on and not letting go. And we don't let go expecting the child to fail. We are praying they will succeed. 

The last thing I noticed is what Jesus did when he finally arrived back at the boat with Peter. A very cold and wet Peter climbs into the boat and Jesus climbs in there with him. In the midst of a blowing wind, Jesus takes us to our resting place and then he calms the wind around us. 

In my journey I have felt the storms and I have felt the peace. I know that Jesus walks beside me. He encourages me and brings me to a point where He will look at the storm and speak peace into my life for the next portion of my journey. Won't you climb on board with me?

I need a new drug

Hi. My name is Kevin and I'm a wifeaholic. It's been143 days since I last touched my wife. The last time I smelled the scent of her. The last time I tasted the wine of her lips. The last time I felt her fingers entwined with mine. The last time I felt the soft skin of her arms around me. The cravings are still there. I go to sleep thinking about her. I wake up thinking about her. I still have a lot of the paraphernalia associated with her all around but I'm not ready to get rid of it. My friends have tried several interventions but nothing seems to work. I'm hooked. I miss the way she made me feel. When I had her I was a better person. My eyes shined brighter. I walked around with a goofy smile on my face. 

My addiction began over 26 years ago. I have lived with her longer than I haven't. People would see me and automatically think of her. We were seen together all the time. There were times in my life that I would feel down but then even the smallest of doses would pick me up. I've never been higher than when I had her in my life. 

Since I've been without her I have had the shakes. Going through withdrawal is no laughing matter. And I mean that with much respect to others who have had to kick bad habits. I don't say all of this to make light of what you have gone through and I must say I am proud of what you have done. Kicking a habit that is good for you can also have disastrous results as well. Ask anyone who has given up eating healthy and they will agree. My health deteriorates. I don't eat well. I don't sleep well. I certainly don't think well. 

Perhaps things would have been different if I had gradually cut the wife out of my life. But, no, I had to go and quit cold turkey. One day I am a happy wifeaholic and the next day I am miserable as I try to recover. And I have found no substitutes. There is no vapor replacement. No near beer. And this addiction will last the rest of my life. I will never get over this. Even as I move on with my life I will always be addicted to my wife. I will learn to live without her in my life. I'm learning every day. But there will be flashbacks. 

You've got a friend in me

As a guy, and maybe even as a woman (I don't know since I've never been one), it is sometimes difficult to lay ourselves bare. To admit that we are weak. To show that pain hurts us as much as the next person. To be vulnerable. The pack mentality sets in. If you expose your weakness then someone is going to pounce on you and cause even more damage. If you don't believe me just ask your husband, boyfriend, brother, or father. They won't tell you. 

Today I faced one of those events that was, as a friend of mine called it, an emotional land mine. I like that term (although I don't like the actual land mine). I had some business to clear up in Wanda's name. As I sat across from the public official I had to face I had to explain that I needed something taken out of Wanda's name and put into mine. One of the legal hoops I have to jump through is showing a death certificate. The actual piece of official paper calls it a certificate of death. In other words I had to prove that my wife was dead. I wanted to rip my chest open, pull out the remains of my heart, lay it on the counter and say, "Here! Look at this heart. Is it not proof enough? Do you not see this lump in my throat, the tears streaming down my face? What more proof do you need?" Yes, Angry Me was bubbling up from the surface and was about to take frustrations out on this poor public servant who was just doing her job. But I throttled Angry Me and simply looked through misty eyes and told her I would be back with the proper paperwork. 

All of this occurred after having lunch and a great visit with a sweet friend. I had, momentarily, been on a high note (well, higher than the normal lows I experience). That faded fairly quickly. Fortunately my business for the day had not ended and my next trip took me to the office of a good friend who basically looked at me and asked me how my day was going. That's when the floodgates opened up. Rather than pounce, however, this man looked at me and told me to take my time, he had all day. Now I doubt he really had all day, but he did give me an hour to talk. And he gave me good advice as well. I figuratively rolled over and exposed my soft side to him and rather than rip me to shreds he rubbed my belly. (Believe me when I say that was figuratively speaking. I wasn't allowing that man, no matter how good a friend he is, near my literal belly. I just wanted to set that straight before going any further.)

The afternoon ended with a quick visit with a former coworker and her son. What made me smile inside the most is that the young man seemed genuinely glad to see me and blushed when I told him how proud I was of his progress in school. After my visit with them I rushed off to my dinner date. Again I found myself showing my aching heart even though I tried to suppress it. And again I was not attacked by a hungry wolf trying to get out of me all they could and leave me tattered and torn. Instead they picked me up and helped bandage my wounds. I invited this wonderful couple over to the house and we sat and visited more. Now the stories were good stories. Good memories. Sure, there were tears. But the fond memories gave me enough strength to go find the paperwork needed to finalize this little bit of business I have to do. 

I have devoted my life to trying to be there for others. I have tried to be a friend to those with few. I have done my best to inspire and motivate. And, yes, I have been abused and taken advantage of more times than I care to remember. But I believe I have gotten where I am in my journey with the help of the friends I have made along the way. And my friends will continue to carry me. If you haven't lived your life in a manner that provides you with true friends then may I recommend that you start today. It will be one of the best investments you can make and I promise, these investments will pay off in the end. They have for me. 

You fill me up, buttercup

Yesterday I posted about the craters created by the grief events. The image was intended to make us realize that the impact of a grief event is larger than just the impact zone. When someone we love is removed from our lives it is not just the person we lose but the many areas in our lives they touch. The resulting impact of that event creates a barren area that extends beyond ground zero. The two images I used were to show how ugly things can look until we fill that emptiness. In conversation with a friend today I began to form another thought about my crater analogy. 

When a grief event occurs it creates an area that was once filled but now lies empty. What is left is grief. And the thought that many outsiders may have is that those of us experiencing the grief are looking to replace the one we lost. Nothing could be further from the truth. The grief event replaced that person for us. In my case it was the death of a child and, later, the death of my beloved wife. Neither my daughter or my child are here on this earth anymore. Instead they are replaced by grief. Grief is what fills the spaces that they once occupied. So, as we work to right our ships we are not replacing what we lost, we are replacing what took the place of that which we lost.

My hope is that this understanding will help those of us who have experienced the grief event. I spent the first several weeks not wanting to put anything in the grief crater because I knew that nothing could replace what I've lost. I was wrong. Something had already replaced my lovely wife - grief. Grief had worked its way into every crevice that my wife once occupied in my life. Once I recognized that, I began to look for ways to replace the grief, not my spouse. 

For those of you that are observing from the outside and think that someone is moving on a little too quickly, may I recommend that you change your thinking and your praying. The person trying to move on is not replacing their loved one, they are replacing the grief. So how should you change your praying? Ah, that is the question. 

What I realized today is that we who are grieving can try too quickly fill the crater and, by doing so, may be choosing the wrong things to fill it with. We might be trying to fill it with drugs or alcohol. We may be trying to fill it with the first person that comes along. We may be trying to fill it with work or other activities. I don't know what you are choosing to use as a filler. I'm not even sure I know what I'm choosing as I cast about for an answer. 

What I believe we all, insider and outsider alike, need to be praying for is that we will fill that crater with the right things, people, and events.  We need to pray that our grief replacements are what God intended to place there. Otherwise we will be looking at even more grief as we let things take root there that are not the best for us. Then we are left with the problem and pain of uprooting the bad thereby creating a larger, uglier crater. 

I don't know what God has planned for my crater, but when He is done I can only pray that my crater looks as beautiful as He intended. Meanwhile we could all use the prayers of the outsiders as we try to discern what it is we are supposed to use to fill the craters in our lives and hearts. Now, it would appear that I may have to look at digging up some things before they take root. Thank you Jesus for revealing this to me when you did. 

You knock me off of my feet

The other day I imagined an impact crater in my life. When a meteor strikes earth it leaves a huge impression. Beginning at the center, where the meteor actually struck, and extending out from there. One of the more famous ones is the Meteor Crater in Arizona. It is nearly a mile across. 

Several years ago I was struck with a "meteor" when we lost Beth. There is nothing left of what was standing where the meteor struck but memories. In a circle around the impact is a huge hole. To me this hole represents grief. Over time I have slowly filled in the hole with other things and people. I have not replaced the loss. I have only replaced the grief. Then, just 4 months ago a larger meteor struck leaving an even larger hole. I have spent the last four months assessing the damage. And it is great. Now I have to begin the slow process of filling the hole. Until the hole is completely filled there will be grief there. And nothing will ever be able to replace what was lost at the impact. 

There are only so many things in my life I can fill the holes with. I have yet to finish filling the hole from the first major impact. Now I have to fill both of these craters of grief. The second one will take longer but I am working on it. The crater is massive but when God finishes filling it I am imagining a thing of beauty. 

I leave you with two pictures "stolen" from the Internet. One is the Meteor Crater in Arizona. The other is Crater Lake in Oregon. I wanted you to see how ugly these craters can be and how beautiful they can become if you fill them with the right things. 

I hope you can see this as a challenge to fill the craters of grief in your life rather than just leaving them open and exposed. God can certainly bring beauty from ashes.