Recovering and Grieving

I’ve been pondering the similarities between grieving and recovery. Recovery is a return to a normal state of health, mind or strength.  Grieving is a cause or occasion of deep distress or sorrow.  And I’ve been doing both since last September.  

Grieving is an continual journey.  The triggers of grief sneak up on me at times I least expect.  Grief cannot be measured because there is no defining end. 

But recovery is evidenced in countless ways. A gain of strength or mobility in an area of physical challenge.  Or recovery of an interest that seemed lost to you just a few months ago. A step forward. A measured progressive step. 

I’m keeping track of my recovery steps. This week I was ready to decorate the front porch and dining room with patriotic decor.  I was always into seasonal decorating except for the last six months. No Christmas, Valentine’s Day or Easter. But my state of mind took a step forward to bring out the decorations for Flag Day and the Fourth of July. It was good to embrace this personal tradition again. A little step here. A little step there. I’m recovering my life.  

#alwaystrusting 

It’s your birthday

 It’s your seventy fifth birthday. And you are gone. I am beginning to process this. I see the signs of your absence everyday. The empty chair. No frozen waffles for breakfast. No worn socks turned inside out oleft on the floor. Not hearing your daily phone calls here, thereu and everywhere. Quiet nights. No snoring  So much more is missing. You’ve been gone for six months. Yet, I’m just now experiencing the reality. The numbness is slowly wearing off. 

When I was fighting to recover from Covid, you’d always ask me when I was coming home. I’d answer tomorrow.  It was easier to say that then acknowledging the long recovery journey that loomed ahead. 

And then you had a massive stroke. I wonder when I spoke to you from my hospital bed to yours if you heard me say I loved you and it was ok for you to go. Did you remember why I wasn’t at your bedside?  Did you know how strong our three daughters were through this heartbreaking time? 

But what I really wonder about is how it was when your faith became sight.  When you were face to face beholding our Savior and Lord in all of His glory.  Did you shed your conservative side and raise your hands in worship and praise? Have you been hanging out with the disciples? David? Noah? Moses? Do you see our parents, family and friends that have gone before us?  

You and I shared life for fifty one years, from dating to marriage. We kept our commitment vows. And we kept our faith in the Lord always. Though I have been left behind, I have countless memories and photos. As I go forward as a widow, I will miss my life partner.  But I promise you, I will see you later.  

Always Trusting 

Amy Grant sings Lead Me On

 The first strains of our adopted anthem begins.  We look at each other. We promised each other we would always stand for this song. In unison our concert feet are on the floor. We dance. We raise our hands. As the majority of concert goers do.  

Except once. The concert venue was packed out. My daughter and I had excellent seats on the second row center  The familiar anthem intro begins. But no one else has stood up. We look at each other. We kept our tradition and bravely stood. Two of us. And before we knew it, the entire venue was standing. It was a goosebump moment.  

And whenever I listen to this song, my heart soars, my feet want to dance and I still raise my hands in praise.  Those concert days with daughters and their friends were the best. 

Milestones

 My sister and I grew up hearing our dad proclaiming certain life happenings as milestones. We celebrated most of them. First date, first drivers license, first prom, significant marker birthdays. Except our mom who stayed 29 for ten years, then she was thirty nine for another decade, you see where this is going. But I digress.  

The first birdie out of the nest was college bound me. A definite milestone to celebrate but a bit bittersweet. Perhaps we were not ready for the changes but we adjusted.  And we celebrated every homecoming and time we spent together.

The years passed and family milestones kept coming. Weddings, new babies, growing kids with their milestones from babyhood, childhood and adulthood. Now we are not only going to visit our parents three states away but going to see them as loving grandparents. Special visits. New milestones. Precious memories.  

Sooner than we imagined our family milestones became a balancing bar of role reversal mixed with respect to our aging parents. A major milestone to relocate them to be near us for better care. We only had Mom with us for a year and Dad only two years. And talk about a hard milestone-burying your parents. The hard part was we never talked about this milestone. The only conversation was IF I die not WHEN I die. My sister and I made it through this tough milestone of letting beloved parents go. We were comforted in knowing they both were in heaven, waiting for our reunion one day. 

Today was a milestone for myself and daughters. We designed a grave marker for their dad and myself. Seeing our names on the marker is a ‘suck in your breath’ moment. My husband with a death date. My name eventually will be completed. 

I cannot help but wonder how did we get here so quickly. Yet there are marvelous milestones still ahead. I will embrace them because I know God is my life planner and in control. 

Always trusting. 

Quarantine mixed with Retirement

 A year ago today, Vance had extensive open heart surgery. He had a few complications which extended his hospitalization to thirty seven days. Meanwhile, besides visiting him twice a day, I was settling us into another home with the tremendous help of family and friends. There was a water disaster at the new residence but we ended up blessed with three rooms of new carpet. My sister found a new to us vehicle to replace my less than reliable ride. So many decisions! 

Vance came home to the mix of new and familiar.  He loved it all.  He also came home to a different world of recovery, rehab, covid quarantine and forced retirement.  I also was forced to retire from my enjoyable part time job, maneuver safely in the masked quarantined world and keep up as a caregiver. So many changes! 

And now a year later, we are still adjusting to the mix of quarantine and retirement.  It’s rather liberating to not have a schedule per se. We get up and go to bed when we want. We do afternoon appointments. We have a small social bubble of family and friends come over for meals and games. We miss fellowship with our church family immensely and look forward to resuming our church attendance when the covid risks are fewer. So many quiet days! 

We are so thankful for the prayers, helping hands and encouragement in cards and calls. Our faith in our Lord Jesus Christ sustains us. Always trusting.

Spilled noodles happen

 Ever have days when you wonder if you are losing it?  Like when you are draining a pot of noodles and the colander goes askew and half the noodles spill into the kitchen sink. Or you can’t find stuff that you put in a safe place you wouldn’t forget but then do. Speaking of forgetting, I forgot to empty the filter on my Eureka lightweight vacuum cleaner and the full filter falls off the machine and dumps an embarrassing load of feathers, fur and dust in front of my three daughters. And how many times have I pushed the radio button to start my car instead of the ignition button?  Or when the family arrived for spaghetti and I’d forgotten to boil the noodles.  Senior moments.  So I’m losing a sense of having it all together which is indeed a loss.  And a pride issue since I’m being transparent.   

But last night a long time friend died of Covid. This is a loss beyond words for his dear family and friends. A loss that is a life journey of grieving.  Moments that hurt. Anniversaries of the first time since a loved one died. An empty chair at the table. A song. A season. A smell. A food. A memory.  Lots of memories. A forever longing for one more day. 

So I am reminded that my sense of having it all together is now very insignificant.  Spilled noodles happen . Senior moments go on. I am choosing to be content in whatever situation  I am in. And praying for those who are suffering a deep loss. 

A year, a month, a week, a day

A year ago my husband had a stroke. Our relationship changed. He became more dependent and I stepped up to take on more responsibilities. We transitioned into the new ways relatively well. I became his Uber driver, day planner, prompter on memory issues, handled all his meds and insulin and kept track of doctor appointments. Throughout the year I still sought the answer to the cause of his extreme fatigue.

A month ago the answer came. He needed open heart surgery to take care of several issues. It was a whirlwind month of preparations. The things you need to do before a serious operation, like taking care of legal papers, making decisions and spending extra time with family and friends. We celebrated his 73rd birthday the weekend before surgery date. It was also our last family gathering in our home of 38 years. The downsize move became a TO DO when we learned he needed open heart surgery. Yet while we spent our evening eating, laughing, praying and crying our family looked forward to new beginnings in a lovely home we’ve been preparing for some time.

A week ago my husband walked bravely into the hospital to submit to a very serious surgery. While I had perfect peace he would be fine, it is still hard to go through the journey. The surgery was successful. He has had complications of needing an external pace maker which impeded him getting out of bed all week. His breathing and dependency on oxygen has been a critical issue. Other critical issues occurred on the home front. Our new home had a water mishap that damaged two rooms of carpet and hallway hardwood. We still moved but put our Furnishings and belongings in the garage and sunroom. Our lives are temporarily split between two houses because being completely settled now is not possible.

A day ago my husband received a internal pacemaker. The procedure went well. He is able to start moving. His lungs need it.

Today he stood up like a warrior. He walked. He is fighting. I am proud of him.

I have found myself between my fear and my faith many times in the last year. I choose faith. I take one day at a time. God is in control especially when things seem so out of control. Like last week. Even when the days are long and the nights are short. To God be the glory, great things He has done.

Just give me Jesus.

Always trusting.