Day One of Year Two

I made it to the other side of yesterday. By God's grace alone I lived through another day that I never would've thought was possible years ago. It's a scary thing to admit because I know that life can get so much harder than it has been - but I'm starting to believe that there is no experience that Jesus cannot get me through with his strength and mercy.

A number of people have told me that they don't know how I've done it - gotten through this past year of losing Greg and having to go on without him. I don't know either. I do know it wasn't me. Jesus carried me. My strength was zilch. There were many times (especially early on) when the heartache felt like it could kill me. When I thought it would be so much better to die. I wasn't suicidal but I was very open to Jesus just ending things - taking me home. Sometimes I would think it would be better if P and I were in a car accident (as long as it killed us both - not just injured us!). Just take us. Why go on?

But we went on. Sometimes clinging on by the skin of my teeth. So often beyond overwhlemed, sobbing, not being able to sob, numb, terrified, anxious, angry, exhausted. Always so exhausted. But one day - minute, second - at a time - one week turned into a month, turned into 6, turned into 12. And here we are. We are surviving. But it's becoming more than that. We aren't thriving. But we are okay. Imagine that! Oh to be able to know a year ago that we would be okay. We would feel hope and find the beginning of healing and start to see that there is life ahead for us. Our lives didn't end when G died. But that chapter sure did and it hurts.

So here I am. Dec. 20, 2021. A year ago I had slept for a couple hours. I came downstairs wearing G's sweatshirt (the same one I'm wearing now) and I think his t-shirt and bandana too. We had cleaned up the house in the middle of the night after the funeral home took him away - I didn't want it to look crazy when P came downstairs in the morning. He came downstairs and I was sitting in my seat at the table - the same one I'm sitting in now. I told him that his daddy had died. He didn't really react. It turns out he knew (he'd been awake long after we thought he'd fallen asleep the night before and when he woke up to the quiet house the next day, he said he knew) but I wouldn't find that out for many more months. I asked him if he wanted breakfast and he did. My sister had had Panera delievered the night before and there was a cinnamon swirl coffee cake so I got him a slice and some milk. He watched his show and I sat in my chair and cried. I remember him looking at me kind of oddly and asking if I wanted some of his coffee cake. I said yes for his sake and took a taste. It was delicious but I couldn't eat more. The nausea had set it and would last and last and last.

Late that morning UT and UN and I talked (about what? I don't remember) and my friend K played with P outside. Then I talked with her and I remember her giving me a hug. I hadn't had a hug from her since before the pandemic. I also remember calling my sister and crying and crying as I told her the story. The only other thing I remember - and this is just because there is a picture - is that we ordered Indian takeout (from Curry Mantra?) that night. The same takeout that UN, P and I had on Thanksgiving when G was in the hospital and it was one of the only restaurants open. I look at the picture of that night and I think how much we are in shock. Posing for a picture, eating takeout, just numb to what is happening. Thank God for shock. How could we endure without it?

So now I have to keep moving forward. And I need to keep looking back - remember. Write down memories. Record events. Make picture albums. Take the time to do the grief book exercises. Do the work of grief so I can continue to heal. All the while, not allowing G's death to steal my life.

I have no idea what God's plans are for me. But I do now this: I am here. I am alive. It was G's time to go but my time to stay. God was so merciful. G couldn't go on. But I can. I must. And amazingly, I want to. Praise God for that! I want to go on. Amazing mercy and grace.