It's Been a Year

I've heard it said that losing a loved one can be like losing a part of your body. Part of you is missing. You can't replace it. You can try to find substitutes, but you can never truly replace what you have lost. 

You can also learn how to continue living life after you lose a body part. You may walk with a limp, or you may never throw a football again. But, you can learn to do other things. You can still manage to live. You can find other hobbies, you can find new things that will make you happy.

But, a part of you will always be missing.

You may not always think about it, but occasionally you will be reminded. You will see someone else walking with a limp. You will encounter someone who is struggling with what they've lost. And, it will remind you of what you've lost. In those moments you can find strength and solidarity in knowing that you're not the only one. Or, you will be reminded of what you used to have, and how hard it is to go on without it.

Losing a loved one is a lot like losing a part of your body, much of what I said above still applies. The biggest difference is, others can't see it. Others cannot see the hole in your heart. Only you, and those close to you, know that it is there. And, it's a lot harder for people to notice when it's causing you to struggle.

One year ago today, I lost a piece of my heart.

One year ago today, my wife died in a car accident. 

It still feels like yesterday.

It still feels surreal.

I can still hear her voice when I think about her.

I can still see her beautiful face when I close my eyes.

I went to our old house last week to pick up our vacuum cleaner that I had left behind for the cleaning crew. As I walked around the empty rooms looking at the places where so much life had occurred, I was prepared to let myself grieve. But, nothing was coming. This was kind of a good sign. It let me realize that maybe I had properly done all the grieving that I needed to do in that space. But, on my way out, I stood and looked at the door that leads to the garage, a door that I had watched her walk through a thousand times, and I thought about how I'd give anything to watch her walk through that door one more time. Then, I was overcome with emotion.

It's been a year.

It's been a year, and I still miss so much about her:

-I miss her enthusiastic, contagious laughter

-I miss how she would steal my wool hunting socks and I could never find them when I was looking for them

-I miss how she would have to hang her clothes out to dry all over the house so that they wouldn't shrink

-I miss how she would destroy the kitchen when she'd cook

-I miss the freckle in her palm that I would only notice when I gave her communion

-I miss how controlled her climate and environment would have to be in order for her to sleep

-I miss the funny things she would say on the nights she'd take Ambien

-I miss her impeccable planning and organizational skills

-I miss how much she hated cats

-I miss how she would call me out on my bullshit

-I miss the way she would wave her hand in the air while she would "rap" the parts of her favorite songs

-I miss making fun of her accent when it'd come through

-I miss her only understanding half of what I said because of my accent

-I miss how much she loved and supported me

-I miss how easy it was to love her

I miss her from the deepest part of my being.

It's been a year.

Where do I go from here?

I don't honestly know.

I'm just going to keep moving forward the way I have tried to, with the help of God, my family, and my friends.

What does the one year anniversary mean anyway?

I know it's not going to magically stop hurting because it has been a year. The year mark is something we do as humans because we love to quantify things. But the truth is, it only measures that it's been 365 days since we've suffered an unspeakable loss. Nothing more. Things do get different over time, but it's not the time elapsed that changes things, it's what we do with that time.

Perhaps because of this "year" mark, I will allow myself to grow and heal in different ways. Perhaps, I will give myself permission to do so.

But, the truth is, I've been growing and healing for many months thanks to the work of the Holy Spirit and God's word made flesh in the people who have surrounded me. It's been a slow process, and I'm still a work in progress.

One of my biggest fears is the worry that because we've hit the "one year" mark people are going to expect me to have all of my shit together. Or, I'm going to be less patient with myself and think that I should have all of my shit together. But, if we can be honest with ourselves, none of us really ever have all of our shit together. We only convince ourselves and others that we have our shit together enough to pull off what we're trying to do in life, and we trust that God will sustain us along the way and strengthen us when we falter.

It's been a year.

I can't be more thankful for the love, prayers, and support that many of you have given me.

It's been a year.

I've made it this far, I might as well keep going.

It's been a year.

And a day will never go by that I don't miss her.

Grace and Peace,

Robert