Sunday, January 25, 2015

I'm Alright. Don't Nobody Worry 'Bout Me

For the last seven months or so I have focused my blog on the loss of my wife more than the loss of my daughter. Today, as I approach the 8th anniversary of my daughter's passing I thought I would change the direction a little bit. I also want to change the angle at which I approach this so if I seem to be scattershooting a bit, bear with me please. 

Let me begin by answering a couple of questions you are probably afraid to ask:

1. Which was harder, losing my child or losing my spouse? 

My answer may surprise you. And this may not be the typical answer of someone who has gone through both losses. Losing our child was the toughest thing my wife and I ever had to face. I would not say that we had marital bliss from the moment we made our vows until the day she left for home, but the daily troubles seem quite minuscule in comparison. Women are very relationship based. It is in their nature to nurture. As a husband I knew that whatever I gave my wife she returned to me in a greater abundance. I gave her my love and she gave me a child. I gave her grief and she gave it back, good measure, shaken together, and running over (but not nearly what I deserved). This nurturing nature made her an incredible mother. It also meant that, being relationship driven, she developed an extremely strong bond with our daughter. The kind that a child can only develop with their mother. That being said, when she passed away she took the life out of her mother. The grief and pain slowly killed her. Her mom died of a broken heart that just took seven years to manifest itself. It is for this reason that I believe that, had I been the one to go, leaving my wife behind, that she still would've grieved the loss of her daughter more than me. I, on the other hand, miss my wife more. Yep, I said it. Then again, had the timetable been flipped, I might miss my daughter more than my wife. But I doubt it. Most of the reason behind this is because we faced our firsts together. Our first childless Mother's Day. Our first childless Father's Day. Thanksgiving. Birthdays. Christmas. All of these we faced together. A conversation my wife and I had weeks before her passing centered on how she couldn't bear the thought of going through these events without me at her side. Well, that nightmare became mine, not hers. My relationship with my child was based around the one thing that almost all guys base relationships around - activities. I miss going places and doing things with her. This is why I am so blessed when a friend entrusts me with their child as I take them to a movie, ballgame, or some other event that my daughter would've been at my side. I miss her most when I am at activities that she would join me at. My wife missed her all of the time. I know it was tougher for her than for me.

2. How do I feel when other people mention their children and how proud they are of them when I don't have a child to be proud of?

I am very proud of my child. My daughter had such a profound effect on those around her that that effect lingers to this day. And that effect is multiplied exponentially by the way those that she reached are now reaching others. Her best friend told me just the other day that she would not be as strong in her faith had it not been for Beth. How incredible a legacy that is! But, in better answering the question, it doesn't bother me in the least to hear of your child's exploits. I'm proud for you when your children and grandchildren make you proud. A friend once mentioned to me that she didn't want to hurt me. I told her that it would be hard to hurt me more than I already have been. But that was just the point. She didn't want to add to my hurt. And, while it was very sweet of her to worry, I think the decision to be hurt is mine to make. Too much of life is unlived if we let the fear of being hurt get in the way of life's experiences. As a parent you allow, and even encourage, your child to take her first steps. You clap when she falls, walks, and wobbles her way into your arms as she puts one foot in front (or slightly ahead!) of the other. But, as she learns to walk she is going to fall. She is going to get bruised and possibly bloodied through the learning process. But we don't discourage her from walking. In the same way, I may be hurt when I realize that my child's adventures have ended. She never saw her sweet 16. She never had her heart broken by a boy. Never had her first date, first holding of sweaty hands, first kiss. Never got the chance to walk the aisle as a bridesmaid or a bride. But I don't focus on these things. I focus instead on what she WAS able to accomplish. And, as I was able to do for a young man who recently walked the aisle with his beautiful new bride, I like to encourage and bless those that do get to accomplish those things my daughter only got to dream of. I don't get to do it for my child so I want to be able to do it for another child. Regardless of how old they are. 

Life with my daughter, just like life with my wife, is now relegated to memories. I miss them both more than those of you who haven't experienced such loss would ever even imagine. But, I must go on. I must place one foot slightly ahead of the other. I must fall down. I must get back up. I must hurt. I must learn my lessons and move on. And in moving on I will continue to set myself up for more pain. But that is my choice. Please don't take it away from me. 

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