Showing posts with label loss of a spouse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label loss of a spouse. Show all posts

Monday, November 7, 2016

Birthday cake in heaven?

 
Do they have cake in heaven? How do you celebrate? Do you spend it with your mom and Papaw Warren and Granny or friends you've made up there? Are you celebrating your 25th or are you perpetually 15 like you are down here? These are just a few of the questions I have for you.

Do they have cake in heaven? Did you get mom to bake you your favorite? What shape did you make the cake? Have you tried the manna yet? How about the sweet milk and  honey? Does the food there have calories? Does candy rot your teeth? These are just a few of the questions I have for you.

Do they have cake in heaven? Do you get to drive on the streets of gold to the bakery or can you fly? Are the butterfly decorations real butterflies that hover above the roses like they do here searching for you? Has anyone explained déjà vu to you yet? These are just a few of the questions I have for you. 

Do they have cake in heaven? Is your guest list long? Is Mom letting you have friends over? Have you made many friends? Does Jesus stop by now and then? Did you invite Moses, David, Esther or Noah? Do angels hang the decorations? These are just a few of the questions I have for you.

Do they have cake in heaven? Do they let you light candles or is the fire reserved for another place?! Do they use the trick candles up there? Do you get to stay up way past your bedtime? Do you even have a bedtime in heaven? These are just a few of the questions I have for you.

Do they have cake in heaven? Do you get presents? What do you want for your birthday? What can I get a girl who truly has everything she could ever want? Can you get flowers up there? Is there a FedEx delivery service? What about GPS in case I need to get to you? These are just a few of the questions I have for you.

Do they have cake in heaven? Do you have time to miss us down here? Do you know how much we miss you? Do you think you could let us hear you laugh one more time? Maybe see you smile? Can you visit us in our dreams and let us hold you like before? These are just a few of the questions I have for you.

Do they have cake in heaven? Can you save a slice for me? Do you like how happy I am knowing where you are? Do you know how sad I am that you're not here? Do you know that the minute you left I longed to join you? Do you know that God had a bigger plan for me here? Do you know how happy He has made me with the gifts he has given me in my new earthly family? These are just a few of the questions I have for you. 

Do they have cake in heaven? Do you love your step-sisters as much as I do? Do you love my wife for the happiness she brings me? Do you love that God has brought me into a new family just like He did you? Has anyone explained déjà vu to you yet?These are just a few of the questions I have for you. 

Yes, they have cake in heaven. I know that they do. I know you are smiling as you enjoy another piece. I know you are saving a piece for me and a place for me at your table just as Christ saved a place for you at His. I know that you and mom are responsible for God directing my new forever into my life. I know that you want me to be happy and I know you are okay with my being sad. I know you know I miss you and that the rest of your family does too. I know you still paint the sunsets for me and send the butterflies my way. I know that you have made my life sweeter than it ever could have been without you. These are just a few of the answers I have for you.

Enjoy your cake in heaven. I'll enjoy my life down here. I'll think of you and miss you daily and look forward to our great reunion. My shoes will be squeaking as I run down those golden avenues to your door. I'll swing your door wide open and sing Happy Birthday at the top of my lungs to make up for all the ones I've missed. These are just a few of the things I'll do for you. 


Monday, January 4, 2016

10 Things I Learned in 2015

I've taken some time lately to go over my previous blogs. While writing has always been cathartic to me, revisiting what I have written helps me to see how I've progressed on this journey of grief. Some of the things that I journaled have proven to be 100% true - now and forever. But some of what I wrote was only true for the season. It seems that the closer you are to your grief event the harder it is to see down the road. Grief makes myopes of us all. But in retrospect let me share what I have learned in hopes that you too can recognize your progression from whatever grief event you may have encountered. 

1. We all grieve differently. While this is true, there are many similarities in the way we grieve. We may go through the stages of grief for some events more quickly than others. Grief turns you into an expert... on your own grief. But just because you can work through a grief event faster than the next person doesn't mean that you loved the person you lost any less than another griever. And just because it takes you longer doesn't mean you loved that person any more than them either. 
2. Tsunamis of grief will always overtake you. Even years down the road. Out of nowhere a tremor below the surface creates a wave that will seemingly crush you. And there is nothing you can do to escape. But you can learn to ride it out. You can learn how to distance yourself from some of the triggers. But, when that tsunami does engulf you just hold your breath. You will get through it. 
3. Angry Me still exists, he just doesn't have as much of a say so as he did from the beginning. For those of you who are new to my blog, Angry Me is that part of me that is so hurt that he becomes selfish. He doesn't care about your pain. He doesn't care about what might be the right thing to do. He only cares about what will bring him joy, or lessen the grief at that moment. Angry Me does stupid stuff. Angry Me lashes out at people for not being caring enough to stay in constant contact. Angry Me doesn't care if you have your own life. Angry Me is all about Angry Me. And when Angry Me shows up you have a decision to make. You can choose to let him take over and win the day or you can choose to put him in his place. How you do that takes some time to learn. In the first days Angry Me always wins. Eventually you win a battle or two. And later you learn how to channel Angry Me into something productive. Exercise is a good way to channel. I recall the scene from Forrest Gump where Jenny left Forrest early one morning. When he woke up he didn't know what to do. So he ran. Sometimes a little exercise can exorcise those little Angry Me devils. 
4. Things and people will show up in your life. Sometimes just when you need them. Sometimes at the worst possible moment. Angry Me has a tendency to invite a lot of the latter into your life! The toughest part is recognizing whether those things or people are good for you or not. Which brings me to my next point. 
5. Craters form where your loved one once stood. In a previous blog I wrote about how when a grief event occurs it is like the creation of a crater. That crater can be large or small but it's there. It's that huge gaping wound in your heart. Once that crater appears it wipes out what you lost and immediately replaces it with grief. Your journey will not be about replacing your loved one. No one knows better than you that your loved one is no longer there. What is there now is grief and you have to focus on replacing that grief. Too many times I have seen people replace that grief with the wrong thing or person. I've done it myself. But if you can learn to replace that grief with things that will build you up and, more importantly, with God who will show you how to plant the right things, then you can win this battle over grief. This is an excellent time to surround yourself with friends that you really trust to be sure that what is planted in that hole in your heart is something that won't need to be ripped out again. 
6. Sharing your grief is tough. I hate to burden others with my grief. But finding an outlet for your grief is crucial. My outlet has been writing. This modest size house I live in became larger at the loss of my child. It became a huge empty mansion at the loss of my wife. Writing made me feel like I had someone to talk to. Even when I didn't post what I wrote as a blog but just kept it as a journal entry. So, find someone who will cry with you. Someone who will not judge you for your bad days but will encourage you just by their presence. And, if you can't find someone to share with then keep a journal. Bitterness can creep in if you aren't careful and social media can become a poor outlet if your bitterness oozes out onto your Facebook page. The more bitter you are in your posts on social media the more people want to distance themselves from you. 
7. Faith will get you through it...but it certainly helps if you have a friend to walk with you. Or, better yet, friends. People are going to constantly bombard you with well meaning scripture but, especially close to the grief event, those scriptures don't hold you at night. They don't snuggle up on the couch with you. You can't touch them. If anything, and I'm being brutally honest and transparent here, they can make you feel worse. It's like that person, no matter their intentions, is saying that if you had enough faith you could get through this. Personally I didn't find the scriptures thrown at me to be comforting. But before you ask for my Christian Card back, let me say that what I found comforting was people around me who lived out the scriptures. I needed those people who could be the arms of Jesus. That could weep with me rather than tell me how I'm supposed to get over losing the biggest part of my life here on earth. 
8. Time will speed by so slowly. You don't know how you are going to get through a day when suddenly it has been a week. After a year the wounds are so fresh that it seems like yesterday that your grief event happened and yet it seems like you have lived an eternity without your loved one in your life. I lost my child over seven years before losing my spouse. But it seems as if I've grieved for them both equally long. Now that it has been 18 months since I last spoke with my wife (I've spoken TO her several times since she left), and almost nine years since my daughter crossed that finish line first, I can tell you that the hurt seems like yesterday but the missing them has been decades long. The one thing about time as we know it here on this earth is that it is moving me progressively toward my reunion with them!
9. It's okay to laugh. My joy comes from the Lord. My happiness comes from within. I've always enjoyed a good laugh. Laughter is like a medicine. Your loved one no longer lives on this earth. But you do. They didn't take your life with them (even though it feels they did) so you have to go to school and learn all over the three L's. Learn to live. Learn to laugh. Learn to love.
10. Your life will never be the same. But you can choose to let the changes you go through be positive changes. You can choose to let your experience be there to help others when they need it. You can choose to live a better life in their honor. Most importantly you can choose to tell the whole world about how great your loved one was and how important it is for us to tell our loved ones how we feel about them. Equally important is to allow what you have experienced to let you see how trivial most of life's problems really are. Those things that stress you most suddenly pale in comparison to what you have endured so far. It is all downhill from now. As I told a friend recently, you can say what you want, it can't hurt me any more than I have already been hurt. 

My retrospective look may mean nothing to you. Or it may bring back memories of your own grief event and let you see how far you have come. Just remember that it is a journey so no matter whether you are on day one or day 10,000, keep walking. We will eventually get to cross that finish line. And what a glorious reunion it will be. 


Thursday, August 13, 2015

A final thank you

Gentle reminders surround me on a daily basis. Reminders of a better life. Reminders of what I once had. Throughout my house are things that prove that you can't take it with you. Things that first my daughter, and then my wife, left behind. Wood, hay, and stubble. Things that seem so important to us at one time that don't really matter in the long run. 

My family did more than leave behind clothing, furniture, toys, and vehicles. They left behind something more precious. They left behind life. In April of this year I was honored to go and speak to a gathering of mostly medical professionals. These are people that live with life, and death, on a daily basis. People that do a sometimes thankless job. Especially when that job results in a less than desired result. 

My speech that day was designed to let the doctors, nurses, lab techs, and anyone else involved in patient care know that they are appreciated in spite of the tragedies they have to face on a daily basis. I could never be a hospice nurse, an oncologist, or an ICU nurse. I would want 100% of my patients to survive. And I'm sure those professionals want the same thing. Unfortunately that will never occur. No matter how hard they struggle. And, so often that is a thankless struggle. 
My wife and daughter were organ donors. I remember vividly when my wife and I were approached in the emergency room by the ER physician who let us know that, while our daughter had no chance at life, someone else could. I remember getting the letter weeks later letting us know that she had saved or improved the lives of at least 5 people. I checked on these people through the Mississippi Organ Recovery Agency. Although I never knew their identities, I did find out a little bit about them. Some have survived. Some have not. But someone out there is alive because of my little girl. I think that makes her a hero. 

This week I got my first letter from a recipient. I never heard from any of my daughter's recipients but I had finally heard from someone who was able to live an improved life thanks to my wife. This grandmother can now go watch her grandchildren play ball. She can go on vacations without worrying about going through dialysis instead of enjoying family time. And she thought to say thanks. 

I have a bulletin board at my office with an interesting collection on it. I collect thank you notes. They are so rare these days that I thought it would be nice to look at and occasionally be reminded that someone appreciated something I had done for them. But never have I received as important a thank you letter than the one this woman wrote to the donor family. 

No greater love exists than a man lay down his life for a friend? I'm not so sure. I think the greater love exists when a man, or, in my case, two women, lay down their lives for someone they never even met. 

This thank you letter will one day be placed in the center of my bulletin board. It will be read daily as a reminder to me that my wife still lives on. That a very real part of her walks this earth today. That a part of her is responsible for hugs, kisses, tickles, giggles, and laughter that this earth would have otherwise been missing. 

If you haven't considered it before I beg you to please consider donating the gift of life. Don't wait for your family members to have to make the decision for you. Go to http://donatelife.net/register-now/ and register to be a donor. The peace that your family will be left with knowing that you still live on will be worth it. I promise. 



Saturday, December 6, 2014

Christmas comes but once a year

Earlier today I began to think about all of the Christmas decorations I've seen in the neighborhoods and posted on Facebook. I recalled how, as a child, I loved to make the trip around the corner at my grandparents house to see what their neighbor had added to his house in the way of Christmas decorations for that year. It was the highlight of the trips to Virginia. I also began to actually think about Christmas this year for me. And that made what had been a good day a little less so. The way to get through the first year of grief - as well as subsequent years, is to focus on the moment and not on the future. Because the future is too darn big and too darn scary to face. 

Seven years ago my wife and I made the decision not to put up a Christmas tree in the house. We still put a small amount of decorations outside but nothing like we once did when our daughter was still with us. It no longer felt like Christmas. There was no longer a pile of blankets at the foot of our bed where our daughter would spend every Christmas Eve. There was no real reason to celebrate at our home. We still celebrated with the family as we watched the nephews and nieces tear into their packages while still at the age where quantity was better than quality. But for the last five years we found ourselves cruising the Caribbean on Christmas Day where it felt a little less like Christmas and where we did not expect to see our daughter at every turn. As it is I can still recall the first Christmas at sea and the poem I wrote about it. 

Christmas Without You

Another Christmas passed without you in it
Your mother and I tried to escape
As we loaded up the car, you weren't there
As we traveled down the road, you weren't there
As we looked out over the ocean, you weren't there
As we walked along the beach, you weren't there
You were so missed
Then I felt it...
In the laughter around the pool, I heard you there
In the smile of a toddler, I glimpsed you there
In the eyes of your mother, I saw you there
In our hearts, I felt you there
You were not there to great us when we returned
How could you be?
You were with us all along

As I began to reflect on my first Christmas without both my wife and daughter I thought that perhaps it was time to add decorations to my living room. Something to mark the season other than the cinnamon candle I found and lit. I could string garland along the fireplace mantle and place candles and bows in the windows. I could put great big Christmas balls on the front porch and put greenery around the columns. I could make the house look and smell like Christmas. Perhaps that would lighten my mood. 

Yes, I could do all of that and was seriously considering it until I rounded the corner tonight and saw a neighbor with a beautiful Christmas tree in their window. It was wonderfully lit and made me think it was time to bring mine down from the attic after 7 years of hibernation. But then I realized something. I would have nothing under the tree. No presents. No one to buy presents for and leave under the tree until Christmas morning where we could waken and rush to open them. This year I don't have to worry about whether or not I got my wife the perfect gift. I don't have to hear her gripe at me for getting her something when we agreed not to do so. I don't have to see her pull out the gift she had gotten me that also broke the agreement. 

No, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus in my house this year. And I'm not sure how I'm going to handle it. Dad always told us as kids that Santa didn't want milk and cookies. Santa wanted beer and pretzels. It will be difficult not to join Santa in his diet this year. But that's not who I am and not how I'll deal with it. 

So, do you want to know what I want for Christmas (aside from the obvious that I can't have)? I want to pretend that December 25th is just another day off. I'm not even sure where I'm going to do my pretending. But regardless of where, please know that I will be wishing you the merriest of Christmases possible.  And don't worry, the spirit of Christmas will still live in my heart - just like it does all year round. Because if you treat every day as Christmas, then it makes the actual day a little less painful. At least that's what I'm hoping. 

Thursday, November 6, 2014

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. 

Sunday, October 5, 2014

Visiting hours are over

"Hi! I'm going to the cemetery to sit and look at my wife and daughter's headstones and cry. Would you like to come with me?" Sounds strange doesn't it? Is it no wonder why I have never uttered those words to anyone. The only person I ever asked to go to the cemetery with me was my wife. It was different then. Not now. No, I love my friends too much to ask that of them. 

I am blessed with several friends who have come to town and asked me if they could go out there with me. And, almost without fail, I have gone. And I know that several of my friends and my family have gone on their own. It would also appear that I have Jewish friends that occasionally visited my Beth's site. And, while the stones they place there last longer than any flowers, even they find their way to the ground and are eventually removed by the grounds crew. 

Our little corner of the cemetery has quickly filled up. But my choice of visiting time is still not usually overly crowded so it does afford me some privacy. So today I went. It was so pretty outside. The temperature was perfect. I began to remember that Monday afternoon when my pastor and I walked from the hospital for the last time. I had given the doctors permission to withdraw life support. The sun was shining. Birds were chirping (I imagine). People were laughing, smiling and going on with their lives. Much the same way when my wife and I walked away from that same hospital having made the exact same decision when our daughter passed. 

It's not supposed to be that way. It's supposed to be grey and gloomy. It's supposed to be raining as if heaven itself was weeping. There are supposed to be no other cars moving on the road and people are supposed to be standing around wearing black while protecting themselves from the heavenly tears with oversized ebony umbrellas. People are supposed to have their heads lowered, shoulders slumped with the weight of your grief. But it doesn't work that way. Life goes on. Even my own. There were work demands (it was payroll Monday after all and employees like it when you pay them), and there were life demands (someone has to put gas in the truck after driving back and forth to the hospital the week before).

I may never invite you to join me at the cemetery. I may never want to bring grey to your sunny day. But it doesn't mean that I don't appreciate your thoughts and prayers when I make my visits. And when I take my place beside my family in the future I won't even ask you to go then. But I will appreciate it when you do. 

Thursday, September 25, 2014

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. 

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

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

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

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.