I have watched many close friends and family process their losses over my lifetime. There is no wrong or right way, just “your way”. I have been honored to walk alongside a friend after the loss of her husband at the young age of 39. We weren’t particularly close at the time, but our children went to school together. Since then, we have walked and talked a lot…something we make an effort to continue. I can’t explain it, but I guess I’m always drawn to people around me in pain. I don’t feel the need to fix it, but to comfort. Through Debbie, I’ve learned that it’s cathartic to share the ugliness of grief. I’ve learned that no matter what, you keep going, keep digging, keep crying, keep searching for joy.
My friend Debbie entered the world of widowhood 8 years ago. She has two children, a full-time job and demands that didn’t cease with her loss. She met her new life head-on, not by choice, but by necessity. Debbie has never been apologetic about the way she mourned, it fact…she was quite public about it. This is something I’ve always admired about her…her raw honesty, her vulnerability and her wit. With permission, I’m sharing one of her many stories over the past few years about her experience with grief and her life as a widow. I hope you find it helpful, wherever you are in your grief journey.
“It was 5 years ago today that we spent our last night together. We held hands while he slipped in and out of consciousness. We talked about a future without him in it. He shared his wants and his dreams for the kids and I. He talked about the life he had lived. He spoke of his hope that he had given enough of himself to last the kids a lifetime of memories and love. We talked about all that we could, and as we continued to converse I was determined to not let go of his hand. I was petrified to walk away from his side. I just wanted him to be better. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me tightly. I wanted him to say "everything was going to be ok". I wanted God to grant us more time. I wanted a miracle!
As I continued to sit there by his side, I had so much fear of what was to come and sadness for what was never to be. He laid there...brave, selfless, gracious and with love in his heart. I knew he was scared. I knew he was confused. I knew he wanted nothing more than to live! But, he never said a word. He was intent on keeping those to himself.
Less than 24 hours later, we shared our last kiss and the kids held their Dad's hand for the last time. Our party of four became three. Now five years later, I reflect back on that day with still sadness in my heart, but also gratitude and admiration. Gratitude... for all those who came from near and far to support us. Gratitude....for the conversations we were gifted. Admiration.....for the strength, honor and dignity he demonstrated till his last breath.
Dan was always true to himself! He taught us all how to love intensely and freely, live with purpose and gratitude, treat everyone with respect, provide grace to others and ourselves, and to always laugh loudly and often! He always found joy and had a smile on his face. He was a gift given to us by God. Only on loan until he was called home. I asked for a miracle that night, not understanding that the miracle I had been asking for had already been granted years before. The miracle was our meeting.....our love....our children....our lives becoming one! My miracle was him!
We miss you Dan, but we are grateful for what you brought to all our lives! You will forever be missed, but NEVER forgotten!”