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.

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