I am often surprised when the sharpness of grief hits me. It seems to come out of nowhere. Life happens and something prods at the gaping wound that John left behind...the one that I have been slowly stitching back together, inch by inch, since he was ripped from my life. Life reminds me that I was once a part of something so much bigger than myself...but I am not anymore...and that hurts.
We had woven our lives together, two became one, for so very long, and then he died. Suddenly I was faced with the daunting task of figuring out how to somehow be half of who I was and a whole new person all at once. Neither of which I ever wanted to be.
It was terrifying to become someone new, all by myself. The first thing I had to do without John was simply survive...and then I had to change everything about who I was and how I lived my life.
I had to lay aside "our" dreams and "our" hopes and "our" life and come up with new ones...and it has been so much harder than you can possibly imagine. Partly because I didn't want to live without him...and partly because I simply didn't know how.
But here I am...killing it. As long as "killing it" means fumbling around like a blind person in a crowd seeking the voice of someone I haven't even met yet. Life is not always a pretty story wrapped up with a glorious happy ending. Sometimes it's raw and rough and redemption all rolled together into a story that challenges everything you thought you believed.
I didn't want to do this...I wanted to live "happily ever after"...I wanted those 70 years with John. But that wasn't our story, and I find myself in the unique position of having to rewrite my life, my identity, and my purpose. We had a future all written out for ourselves and one man's horrible choice changed all of that forever. Talk about a plot twist...
So, as I spend my days sorting through the mass amounts of items that John left behind, I ask myself over and over again "who do I want to be now?" and "how does this add or take away from that life?". Because, when it comes down to it, I get to choose who I am. I am my own whole person, even if that person is somewhat broken. And I get to determine who I want to be now.
I want to be brave.
I want to be strong.
I want to be happy.
I want to be loved.
So welcome to the new story I am writing. The one where I choose to move forward and heal a little more, every single day. The one where I refuse to live life in fear of the worst case scenario happening again, because fear is the thief of joy (just as much as comparison is). The one where I cry, and hurt, and say "I just want to give up"...but also the one where I don't give up...not even when grief threatens to overwhelm me. The story I chose to keep writing...even when I didn't have the words.
I wanted things to be easy. I wanted healing to flow from my soul the way that love once did. But healing isn't easy. Healing is gruesome, and heartbreaking, and so very hard.
But I can do hard things, don't you know? If there is nothing else you take away from any of my words let it be this:
I am braver than I ever thought that I could be.
I am stronger than I gave myself credit for.
I am happier than I knew I could be after such grief.
I am more loved than I choose to remember.
Not because I am anything truly special on my own. But because a man fused his life with mine many many years ago. And that man conquered death...even death on a cross.
We were woven together by choices and redemption. That power far exceeds anything this world can throw at us. And he cannot be ripped from me...even if the worst case scenario happens again...even then.
I did not think that I could survive the death of my husband...but here I am..."killing it".
Take a page from my book...as long as that book is the Bible and it provides you with some actual truth and perspective. Because I'm just a young widow who's fumbling through life, I have very little of myself to offer you except this:
God has made all the difference.
Christ has provided all the healing.
The Holy Spirit has brought about all the growth.
Without the life changing truth of the gospel I would still be hemorrhaging grief, unable to heal from the worst case scenario that came to life before my very eyes.
I had such a very great love for a time...and then two became just one...and I chose to keep on living...
And so can you.
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