Signs of Life

I’m crying.  I have lots of tears these days.  I thank God for my tears because they are a sign that I’m still alive.  Everyday I wake up and I find something to be grateful for no matter how small, odd sounding or mundane someone else may think it to be; I’m determined to be grateful in my grief.

I miss my husband.  I don’t a vocabulary sophisticated enough to amply describe what his loss means to me.  Just typing that sentence made my chest burn and my heart race, another sign of life, Thank God.

I DO want to go on without him.  I’m not sure how I’m going to go on without him; but each moment I trust that God will give me what I need to get through.  Some minutes are incredibly hard and I can’t think to the next.  I have bad days and worse days, but in each day I am blessed.  I say this, I believe this, I live this.

Yes, I live this.  BLESSED.

For the past 3 years my husband has been in a middle of a custody battle with his daughters mother.  A few months ago, we quit.  No more shady lawyers, inept private investigators, biased GAL’s, and depleting bank accounts.  We agreed to a very modified visitation agreement and I feel we got what we really wanted leverage against mom’s moods, whims, poor judgment …..

As school let out and summer approached hubs and her ( my step-daughter’s mother) worked out an agreement that allowed him to maximize his free time with his daughter.  We shared the absolute best father’s day ever.  Never thought it would have been his last, never imagined he would be gone from us 4 days later.  My God, My God!  But I also never imagined that God would love me, us enough to allow those last 5 minutes of family time, praying, kissing and trading “I love you’s”  —  I had no idea we were in what would be the final moments of his life; thank God I didn’t because I would have been too panicked and wouldn’t have been able to love on him.  I was just trying to make him comfortable while we waited for help to arrive.

My step-daughter was there….my husband died surrounded by his two most favorite people in the world.   All I can do is say “Thank you God for allowing all 3 of us those precious moments”

It’s been about 3 weeks now.  Of course I’m still sad.  Heart broken doesn’t begin to describe  how I feel.  I normally do all of my crying in the shower but I’ve been afraid to go in our bedroom, so I cry in the wee hours of the morning in my car, then I shower at the neighbors.  But she got her key back and I’m out of hotel money so I was forced to come back home alone.

I opened all the curtains, cut on all the lights and I prayed, prayed and prayed.  I called out to God for help. I spoke the word of God over myself.  “Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted”  Matthew 5:4.  I processed this to mean that I had to allow myself to grieve if I want to feel the comfort of God.  I can’t run from the uncomfortable feelings that I have.  I can’t avoid the memories or the awkward and lonely situations that I find myself in.  My heart skips beats often, my stomach aches, but I pray.  I asked God for help and he sent it.

Of course my friends, family and in-laws were available.  But God sent me a fire filled praying woman of God (my neighbor whom I never met before)  she saw me locked out of my friend’s house and stopped and just prayed with me.  Then she came in my home and we spoke the word of God together and prayed throughout my house and I immediately begin to feel the presence of God in the middle of my new mess.

I say new mess, because life is full of challenges, disappointments, and death.  New mess, new mercy!

A few days after burying Victor I wanted to begin to get rid of some of his clothes.  So soon…YES.  I lost my daddy four years ago this August, he was a collector of things…jazz, coins, antiques…I inherited his collections, they fill my small home…I can not become the keeper of dead men’s things.  My husband was so much a part of me, I don’t need every single thing that he owned in life to feel close to him.  We’ve been together for twenty years; he is very much a part of me.

The day I took all of my husband’s pants out of his closet I had asked my best friend to help me, she agreed but never showed up, I then asked another close friend; who also agreed and did the same thing.  I was disappointed, but felt like God wanted me to do it alone, just Him and I.  I did it alone, eight trips up and down the stairs holding arms full of folded jeans loading them into his truck.  I never thought I would be able to do that.  God showed me something in myself, that I didn’t know existed.

I’m still grieving, I’m still growing, God is still with me and my life is full of His grace.


Title I Don’t Want – Widow

I’m a widow.  My husband died suddenly only a few weeks ago.  I know it was a Thursday, I thought it was a Wednesday and someone corrected me.  I know it was before the fourth of July, but the date doesn’t matter.  What matters to me is I’m alone.  I said on so many occasions when describing my widowed mother “mommy never prepared or imagined a life without daddy.” Damn, again I’m my mother.  I NEVER prepared or imagined a life without my beloved Victor.

Who thought that fun loving, newly weight conscience, easy going Victor Tavers would die suddenly.  I mean he had survived being shot 7 times in a random act of violence.  I used to tell him, God has a plan for you, He spared you.

Now, what do I say?  What do I believe, the plan was fulfilled?

I miss my husband so much.  We didn’t have too many words unsaid because I was always expressing myself and my feelings.  I told him “I love you” every day.  I told him “I’m proud of you.” at least once a week.  But I wanted to keep telling him that.

I spoiled my husband.  He reciprocated.

I hate walking in the house and nobody is here to greet me.  As I pull up in front of my door each day my heart races a little bit.  My digestive system is shot.  I know I’m going to lose weight.  I’m developed an unnatural fear of losing my car or house keys and having know one to call.  I can’t believe my sister is going to be my next of kin now.  I’d rather not put anyone on the paper.

I keep forgetting to wash clothes, because Victor washed our clothes.

I believe in God.  I trust God.  I’m reading my Bible.  I’m praying.  ALOT.  I’m doing a lot of these spiritual things, I am a Christian.  But I’m also a widow.

I cry and scream hysterically in my car.  I’m afraid my neighbor will come check on me if I do that in the house and I don’t want her to check on me.  I think she had a secret crush on my husband.  It didn’t bother me before, but now it does.  I’m mad at her for that.

Some friend’s told me I can call them anytime, day or night.  Yesterday I called different friends not one answered the phone.  Only 2 called back.  They lied.  They have lives, they have husbands.

My sweet 12 year old step-daughter calls me every day.  I LOVE her.  She says she loves me back, we say it to each other all the time now.  I feel bad for myself, but then I think of her and I know I don’t have it bad.  My daddy died when I was 39, not 12.

Not sure what to call this.  Couldn’t put the word widow in the title because don’t want to read that word every time I go to my blog.

Last night was the first night I slept with the lights off.  I haven’t slept in our bed yet, I did lay across it today.

I went to the grocery store the morning my husband passed.  I don’t want to go grocery shopping anymore.  I know I have to.  I’ve been forcing myself to eat the crappy food already in the house.

Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted. Matthew 5:4.

I believe that.  — Reading that scripture, made me feel like I had to accept the pain and grief, I just let it overtake me when it comes and it does eventually subside.  One of my friend’s from high school told me she had been a widow for eight years.  She is a Christian, she looks well, she is living what appears to be a good fulfilling life.  — Her reaching out to me was comforting.

I’m getting rid of things.  I quite a few items from my uncle and father that are both deceased.  They were collectors, I inherited their collections.  Now I have my husband’s things.  I’ve started getting rid of some things, because I don’t want to be the keeper of dead men’s things.  I know I must get to a place where I’m content with good memories.

I know that mourning is a process.  I can’t rush or control this grief.  But I’ll be glad when I get past the measuring everything as the “first time” without him portion.

For now I walk past my husbands closets and grab an armful of his clothes and bury my face in them.  His closet doesn’t have doors.  This weekend I’m going to have doors put on the closet.

I have my dad’s old van.  I’m giving it to charity.  It used to be my 2nd vehicle.  Now my husband’s truck serve’s that purpose.  I wish I felt close to him when I drove his truck, but I don’t.  I don’t know where I feel close to him.  Today while cleaning the van I found an old poem my husband wrote me, over 10 years ago.  It’s a whole page long.  I don’t even remember him writing poetry.  On the back of it, he wrote 26 Bible verses, now that’s comforting.  I’ve been excited and uplifted all day because I found that treasure.

I’m overwhelmed at how God did that.  I almost didn’t open the glove box.  I’m so elated by this treasure I’ve made multiple copies of it to share with family and friend’s that I think will be encouraged by his words.

I’m mourning.  I’m comforted.