Smile, Blue Eyes

I started keeping a five-year diary the January after Wendi died. My very first entry states, “Today marks one month since Wendi died. Will our lives ever be the same?” I had no idea the turn my life would take after that—nor do I think I could have mentally handled it had I known. I look back over the entries of that first year and see so much foreshadowing that it’s unfathomable. Abba is the author of our lives, and I believe sometimes He gives us glimpses but we cannot imagine what we are seeing. Over the next few weeks, I wrote about the grief I was experiencing, wondering if it ever got any easier. I did wonder if I was to blame or could have prevented it. I had so many swirling emotions. But then one day I wrote, “God has given me peace regardless of how things go. He is sovereign. His plans for me are good.” No mention of what I did that day or what was going on. Just a truth to stand on. Brian and I used to play the what-if game when our business was young because I worried. Can I just say here that what we worry about normally doesn’t come true? And if I had known that my worst-case scenario was way worse than what I could have ever imagined, there is no way I could have faced my future. Again, this is Abba’s sovereignty. If we truly knew the future, we would be wrought with fear for “that” event that was going to happen. Not that I have perfectly learned to rest in Him, but I am getting better. When the bad things happen—and they still do—I pause. I pray (or I try to remember to) and look at the situation. Is it life-threatening? Will this really have an impact on my future? Is it as bad as I initially thought—after my pause? Normally it’s not. That’s when I turn it over to my Abba and say, “You knew about this. Please work this out for me.” If there are things I need to do, I do them. If it is overwhelming for me, I may put it off for a few hours or a day then return to it when I am not overwhelmed. I may nap, depending on how much it affects me. When I nap, I am saying to Abba, “I trust You so much that I can rest in You.” And rest is needed greatly during seasons of grief … Days and life returned to normal. Work, cleaning, exercise, grocery shopping, visiting with family and friends. Peppered in those days were the days where the grief was so severe that I couldn’t do anything. We did have our foster son to get me out of bed on those days, but caring for him was all I could do. I know my girls shouldered the burdens on those days to help out more, while dealing with their own grief. And the closer to Wendi’s birthday it became, the greater the depression grief grew. How do you handle the first birthday without your loved one? How do celebrate their life without them? For me, I knew I wanted to celebrate in a way she would have really enjoyed so we went to IHOP—because of her love of pancakes—and had breakfast. It was how we celebrated her eighteenth birthday because it is what she chose. That morning was bittersweet, but I decided then and there to make it a yearly tradition. I wanted to celebrate Wendi’s life—the life that came into mine and changed it for the good in so many ways when I was young—because she was worth celebrating every year. So off to IHOP we went for some fluffy pancakes smothered in rich syrup. A treat to savor and to remember that larger-than-life personality and celebrate her life. Around her birthday, we finally got a pool. It was something I had wanted for so many years, although there were always excuses as to why we shouldn’t do it, but I had decided that life was too short to not sometimes take the chance and reach for what you want. That summer became a summer of enjoying the little things in life—being able to swim almost every day—and being so depressed. I was either in the pool or in front of the TV—something I rarely do when I am not depressed. Our foster son had been reunited with his mom and the grief I had been trying to work through hit full force. Essentially we had lost three children in a year. The loss felt insurmountable. I knew I needed to move and swimming was a great exercise and I loved being in the water, but as soon as I was done, mentally I couldn’t handle anything more so I would just binge-watch. Would this grief ever get any easier? How do you continue to move forward? How does life go on like nothing has changed yet everything has radically changed for you? Don’t get me wrong. There were moments of joy during this time. Fun vacations, fun family gatherings, gatherings with friends. Life continued, but it wasn’t the same. The routines were the same yet varied. The traditions were the same yet varied. The holidays were the same yet varied. Life after loss is the same yet varied. Everyone does the best they can and continues to move forward. One foot in front of the other. But sometimes you may only take a step that day.