Category Archives: Death

TOP 10 THINGS I’M DISCOVERING AT 21 MONTHS

Children, Death, Faith in God, Family, Grief, Loss, Miscellaneous

cropped-Julia-56-years-old.-February-2014.jpg

Since his passing I’ve learned positive things.  Things that can contribute to my overall growth as an adult woman.  I am learning to be content without him. I’ve also discovered sorrowful things, but I am focused on pushing through this grief…to not just circle around the grief and avoid the deep pooled places.  Because I believe.  Eventually.  In time.  I will come out on the other side.

TOP 5 POSITIVE THINGS I AM LEARNING:

  • Love is eternal.  As the famous song from the movie Titanic says, “In my heart you’ll always go on.”  It does.  He does.  In my heart.
  • I’m stronger than I knew. Loren periodically told me, “Julia, you know more than you think you do.” In the areas where he was strong I had let him lead.  He was right.  I know more than I thought.  I am strong.
  • Our 4 children are a direct reflection of he & I. Even though they are strong individuals of their own worth, I look in to each of their eyes and see him.  Pictures of him.  Moments of him in increments of time.
  • My circumstances do not  hold the power to alter the character of who God is.
  • People haven’t changed. It’s me who has changed. The Julia “B.D.” (before his death”) vs the Julia “A.D.” (after his death).  I’m still learning what all of this means….

 

TOP 5 MOST DIFFICULT THINGS I AM LEARNING:

  • After 21 months out I am suddenly “on my own” in the grief journey. The truth be told, by this time many only miss him because they recognize the void in my life.
  • Not even my girlfriends, who are widows or grieving over their loved ones, can completely understand my loss.  We desperately want to understand each other ~ we try.   We reach out in support. At times afraid to be candid about our low, dark times.
  • Sometimes humans cannot bear each others pain.  My kids, my family & friends cannot cure that deep impenetrable hole, that tunnel, where I at times feel lost…even suffocated.
  • Sometimes I feel EVEN GOD cannot cure that deep impenetrable hole.
  • New, additional losses keep appearing. For example, his scent on his robe is still strong.  But the fresh memories associated with that robe are fading.  I’m afraid I’ll lose those special memories.  That scares me.

Even in all of this, I know I am moving forward healthily.  I’ve not avoided my grief. I’ve not denied my Faith and trust in the Lord Jesus Christ.  I’ve not deterred the grief in drunkenness, men, overeating, or overspending.   I know myself ~ that I am a truth seeker ~ that I must face my reality head on.

And I know the day will come when this grief – reality – mission can be laid to rest.

“So, God I thank You.  In the eye of the storm You still see me. “

 

I’M MOVING and PROMISES

Death, Faith in God, Family, Grief, Loss, Marriage, Miscellaneous

You could say I had been FROZEN.

Then I was STUCK.

SPEAKING OF STUCK………that makes me think a few years back when Loren and I, out of sheer necessity, were cleaning out a 2 1/2 feet deep water, silt-filled, mucky culvert in the back 40.  We each had shovels and knee high rubber boots on.  Well, we long ago learned to never go into a creek-line together, especially near a culvert,  so the other could pull ‘em out if needed.  Well, I sank in silt-mud up to my knees.  I was caught.  Loren yanked on me from the edge.  Neither boot of mine would budge.  We were laughing hysterically. Using his shovel, he tried to create pockets of air around my feet.  I was still stuck.  He cautiously stuck one foot on the edge of the creek-line to gain some leverage.  He started to sink.  He became stuck too. Our shovels were basically useless other than good handles to lean on. With much deliberate effort, we slid our feet out of our rubber boots and then crawled out of the muck. We were in wet, thick mud up to our elbows,  entire legs and bellies.  We never Sheridan-20121009-00096could retrieve my one stuck boot until the following summer after the water receded.

SOME MAY SAY I AM STILL STUCK because:

  • At 20 months-out-to- the-day, I’m still very much in love with my deceased husband. My heart is with him.
  • I love my life living in the home we built and shared.
  • I have no desire to change my residence or the memories that surround me at the ranch.
  • I’m not looking for another life with anyone else.

 

But, I SAY I AM MOVING FORWARD because:

  • I have found meaningful friendships. There is a lessened void.
  • I can now immerse myself in Biblical devotions and apply Truths without dwelling on grief.
  • I can now drive to church on Sunday mornings without the hot, flowing tears.
  • I can now eat in a restaurant by myself without feeling severe loneliness.
  • I no longer cringe when I hear the words “widow” and “single”. I AM those two words and I AM “OK” with it.  To refuse those labels would be a form of denial.  I feel it is my job to face this portion of my life head-on.  To live through it.  To live it out and learn to be content in it.  Whether I like it or not, I’ve been thrown into a new season.

Furthermore the truth is, every one of us will at some point in our life face a deep level of despair.   Every one of us will at some point feel like our world has fallen apart.  Every one of us will at some point question God’s goodness.  God never promised us a rose garden.  But, God does promise He will be with us.

“So, God, I’m thankful I’m no longer frozen.  I’m even thankful I can feel pain. I’m more thankful I’m not running from being alone and loneliness.  Thank you for the journey of contentment.  I thank You for helping me discover new things about myself.  Amen. “

WHAT I’VE LEARNED ABOUT MARRIAGE AFTER MY HUSBAND’S PASSING

Children, Death, Faith in God, Family, Grandchildren, Grief, Marriage, Miscellaneous

We ended up with the story book marriage but I’d be lying to say our 37 year marriage didn’t have rough patches, daunting flaws. It’s my opinion a high percentage of marriages are just like mine was. Far less than perfect. At times highly exhilarating. Satisfying but exhausting. As a widow, I’ve been purposing to reminisce, to recall, to honestly re-visit “us”.  That is, looking at Loren and my marriage from every angle, every side.  I’m now  learning to apply that “19 -month- out- understanding” so I can continue with this process.  That grief process.

My marriage was exhausting because:

  • It took effort to give up selfishness.
  • This image was captured the day after Loren's Celebration of Life.
    I feel this picture describes many marriages, even Christian marriages.

    It took effort to actively cleave to my spouse (as if climbing a steep mountain).

  • It took effort to maintain the “we are a team” spirit.
  • It took effort to continue learning about him, that is, what his new developed hobbies might be. (Because he had so many varied interests  it took me a long time to embrace that idea).
  • It took effort to “pick our battles”.  There will always be things that aggravate you about your loved one.

My marriage was exhilarating because:

  • My greatest highs / peaks were with Loren (wedding, children’s births, vacations, special events, our intimate times).
  • I had someone who put me first before anything else.
  • I had someone who challenged me to try new things (racing at the Drag Strip, becoming an NRA instructor, driving dump truck and log truck).
  • I had someone to communicate with. To discuss life with.  To develop ideas with.  To dream with.

My marriage was satisfying because:

  • We were seeing the rewards of commitment, the fruit of our labor and effort in our marriage.
  • We were providing stability for our grown adult children and our grandchildren.
  • We were relishing our empty nest years together. Finally, again having time to ourselves, as if newlyweds.

Some of the harsh realities I am just now starting to “mull over” are:

  • Even with Loren being gone, I’m still me. An aged version, a changed version, but still me.
  • I didn’t find my ultimate happiness just because he was my spouse.
  • My self esteem wasn’t determined by what my spouse thought of me.
  • My husband couldn’t ultimately meet my spiritual needs. He also couldn’t ultimately hinder my spiritual growth.
  • I was the one who backed off and let him take over certain responsibilities when, in reality, it would’ve been better if we would have taken turns in a greater variety of responsibilities.  Doing that, adjusting to becoming a widow might’ve been easier.
  • I can’t use this widow situation as a cop out for losing momentum in life.
  • I mustn’t give in to the lie that life will forever be incomplete without Loren.  (I’m still pondering this thought because my heart tells me something very different).
  • I can’t bury myself with him, even though I initially wanted to die with him.

“So God. I’m gaining some perspective.  I’m not sure how it all goes together so please guide me.  Amen.”

He said, “Your husband…..”

Children, Death, Family, Grief, Loss, Marriage, Miscellaneous

This morning my chiropractor, whom I see every 6 months or so, made a statement to me, starting his sentence with the words, “Your husband……”  See, Loren had been a patient of Dr. Holton also, along with our daughter Brianne having been a childhood friend of his oldest daughter, Elizabeth.  Hearing the words “your husband” immediately brought a rush of warmth and calm to my heart and body.  Hearing those words equally brought quick, hot tears that burned my eyes and cheeks.

But, I welcomed those quick, hot tears because someone remembered him.  Someone spoke of him.  Someone referred to Loren and my life together.  Someone remembered him as my husband.

And it is well with me that Loren and I always be remembered together! Loren & Julia  Of course, he was his own strong – willed person full of wit and sarcasm.  I’m my own strong-willed person, too.   But we grew together.  We merged in to one together.  Merging into one was not an easy task for us.  But we accomplished it, together, as a team.  We had that “forever connection”. 

I’m grateful our marriage didn’t end in a painful divorce.  In our 37 years we went through periods of time where a wall of unspoken distance loomed. Even though we very much loved each other, there were periods of time we were not even friends…. lovers & raising a family together, yes.  But not close friends.  I have a life-long friend who is now walking through her own immense grief and pain because her husband has left her for another woman after 40 years of marriage.  THAT is pain.  THAT is the epitomy of grief.  Her layers of grief are different than mine, but nonetheless horrific.  Excruciating.  Haunting.

I’m forever grateful that Loren and his graduation to heaven happened in a season of renewed love.  I’m forever grateful our separation happened in a season of much companionship.  Happened in a season of close friendship, a season of undeniable commitment in heart, soul and body with multitudes of “I love  you’s” spoken to each other without restraint.  Unabandoned carefree love as happy empty nesters.  Unabandoned commitment.

Today Dr. Holton said, “Your husband….” Because of Loren’s passing I recognize we legally are not husband and wife but those 2 words are music to my ears for in my heart and mind Loren continues to be just that.  My husband.

JUST A LITTLE BIT, JUST A LITTLE BIT

Death, Family, Grief, Loss, Miscellaneous
Another change is coming! Fall, my favorite time of the year.
JUST A LITTLE BIT, JUST A LITTLE BIT…I’m happy a new season has arrived.

Every day I laugh just a little bit, just a little bit.  Every day I smile just a little bit, just a little bit.  Every day I accept my life just a little bit, just a little bit.  Most days I cry just a little bit, just a little bit.

But, as fall has arrived, as the leaves are changing colors, as some dead leaves have already fallen from the trees ~ I feel a change within me.  I wish I could identify the change.  To label it.

I welcome the change all the while hanging on to what was. I welcome the episodes of happiness all the while hanging on to my sorrow, the friend that I have become well acquainted with.  Ol’ Sorrow, that friend whom I’ve lived, even communed, with these past 18 months. Ol’ Sorrow, the partner I’ve shared my life with since my husband has gone.

“So, Lord,  the Scripture says when You start a work in a person You will complete it to the very end.  I can’t imagine how this will end up looking because I relished my world with Loren and the picture I was a part of.  I’m just now willing to even consider opening up my eyes.  So teach me to pray  just a little bit, just a little bit each day.  Teach me to trust  just a little bit, just a little bit each day.”

EMERGING

Death, Family, Grief, Loss, Miscellaneous

QUOTE OF MY WEEK:  “Grief Feels Like Fear”.   C.S. Lewis

My counselor tells me I am “emerging”.  I’ve been told this is a good sign as far as the grief journey goes.  I no longer am fixated on his death.  I fixate on my loss less than I used to. But, I’m having to learn to say, “I”.

My husband was a force.  I had described him as a force for years but only until today have I taken the effort to Google the definition of FORCE:  “Strength or energy as in an attitude or movement”.

I loved that he was a force.  And I also struggled with it, as his wife.  I needed his zeal and determination.  But I was exhausted trying to keep up with him and most people consider ME to be a high energy person!  Much of my identity and the many tastes were centered around who Loren & I were as a couple.  We were together 37 1/2 years. “WE” were individuals but still one. The miracle of marriage.

Through a course of many events and key people in our lives, we all, as children, eventually emerge into the people we will become.  But today, September 12, 2016, parts of me feel as if I am a child, again.  Periodically I feel “afraid”.  Now, I don’t feel afraid about tomorrow.  I don’t feel afraid if I’ll survive by myself.  I don’t feel afraid for my safety.  But,

This image was captured the day after Loren's Celebration of Life.
This image was captured the day after Loren’s Celebration of Life Service.
  • I feel afraid of learning who I am, alone, at my age.
  • I feel afraid I may not see pitfalls by myself.
  • I feel afraid of bearing the big financial decisions by myself.  I miss his input.  We were a team.

It has been said, “Grief feels like fear”, quote C.S. Lewis.  Up until now,  at 17 months out, I would have not identified grief as fear.  I would have told you grief feels like an illness…changing my mind, my body, my emotions. But today I identify with C.S. Lewis.  Grief feels like fear.

You’d think I’d be thankful I’m “emerging” from that shocking, all-consuming grief that physically felt like a heavy cloud sitting on me.

I now see I was just starting to feel familiar with what I identified as grief.  Could I even say I was starting to feel “COMFORTABLE”” with grief and it’s unpredictable PREDICTABILITY?  Could I have settled and stayed in that state for the balance of my life?

“So, Lord, help me transition as the cloud no longer daily consumes me. I know Your promises, I believe Your promises.  I know them to be Truth in belief and experience.  Teach me how to trust You in life as it is now,  even while I’m feeling the fear.

”

I TALK TO HIS PICTURE SOMETIMES

Children, Death, Family, Grandchildren, Grief, Loss, Miscellaneous
IMG_0656 (1)
This picture of Loren is the exact picture that is mounted on the wall. 

Many people in grief are afraid to honestly share lest they be viewed as mentally unstable.  We’re not mentally unstable. We’re not in denial.   We’re walking our  walk through the valley of the shadow of death.  We’ll come out on the other side.  In the meantime……

Most mornings and most nights I stop and look at Loren’s larger- than- life picture mounted on the wall near our bedroom door.  That is, the large picture that was displayed at the front of the church at his memorial service a year ago April 2015.  My man looks so stately in that picture.  When I mounted it on the wall, just days after the service, I declared out loud, “You still are the patriarch of this home and I’ll always love you.  I know a house is just a physical place on earth but this picture belongs here so I can see you as I come and go”.

Sometimes I  stand and smile lovingly into his eyes with a smile on my face, feeling peaceful.  Some days I stand and say, “I’ll always love you.”  It’s the next best thing to having him here.

Today I couldn’t smile.  In fact, I couldn’t see his facial features because my eyes were blurry with tears.  Memories simply aren’t enough.

Some days I briefly tell him, “Honey, I’m home!”  Of course I know he’s not in our home but I think I say those words for myself.  To hear my voice speaking to someone as I enter our home after a day at work.  And to have said those words is enough.  Enough for then, at least.

Months back a thought flitted through my mind as I stopped to smile at his face.  “Wouldn’t it be amazing if this picture was a  portal?  An open place between heaven and earth where he and I could see each other and just briefly sense each other?”   Of course I knew this was highly unlikely but that thought comforted me somehow.  Non-the-less, I feel a draw when I stand in front of that picture. I’ve discovered something new:  so does my 13 month old grandson who has never met his grandfather here on earth!!  He smiles and literally giggles out loud when he is lifted in front of that picture…while reaching his hands upward and forward to touch his beard.  You’d have to see it to believe it!

Tonight I’m going to step out on to the deck. I’m going to reach my hands up towards the stars in the heavens and say, “Even though I can’t be with you, dear husband and only one I love, I know where you are and Whom you are with.  I sorrow for myself but I rejoice for you, for YOU are with your Maker!”

“So God, I know the pain is just for a moment in the scope of eternity.  Keep giving me the necessary perspective to grow through grief. ”

QUESTION:  Can you name other things that you’ve seen people in grief do ~ as their way of helping them go through the process of letting go and moving forward? 

MY LIFE IS AN OXYMORON

Children, Death, Family, Grief, Loss, Marriage, Miscellaneous

Two months back girlfriend and co-widow Cindy and I had a leisurely meal together.

In transparency, we unhappily relinquished to the realization that we now have many days where we are “accepting our singleness”.  We both cried, EVEN GRIEVED THE FACT, that we are both, individually, walking into our “new normal”.   To develop the new normal has meant we are no longer daily screaming and fighting our way  througJulia summer 2014 road triph the loss.

For the first time in 14 ½ months I had woke up not thinking about Loren and his death and my loss. When I became aware this had occurred 4 things happened:

  • First, I felt a sense of pride that I had accomplished this.
  • Secondly, I went to my recliner and sobbed, hard……grieving how long I have been without him.
  • Thirdly, I started to think how living without him overwhelms me. I forced myself to stop thinking.
  • Fourth and lastly, I returned to the satisfaction that I am “doing this” and healthily.

The gammat of emotions I went through in that 10 minute period describes an oxymoron.  Webster’s definition of OXYMORON: “a combination of words that have very different even opposite meanings ~ a combination of incongruous words”.  This pretty much describes me.

Along with the surprising physical symptoms that join grief, with the mental and emotional upheaval that occurs during grief, I’ve come to honestly face the myriad of reasons why some people do not stay on the straight and narrow……that is, to side step to other vice’s that would numb the pain or give a temporary high.  There have been periodic times where I’ve felt so low, so empty, the loss of Loren taking me under in a whirlpool of deep dark waters…..where a deterent would’ve been a welcomed sidetrack for me to escape the pain I was feeling.

But I also have periods of time where I feel like my feet are back on the ground and I feel happiness, even purpose. I’m learning to embrace my peaceful times and am choosing to rest, literally and figuratively, in those moments.

“So, God.  Trying to grow while grieving takes so much effort.  Thank You for strong friends and wise godly counsel…plus a good dose of common sense to help me weigh out the consequences of every action because I very much care about remaining a good role model for my children and mankind.  Amen. “

ALWAYS ON MY MIND

Death, Family, Grief, Loss

I wrote this in my journal in May 2016 just before our 2015-2016 school year was coming to an end.  I believe music will forever trigger me….take time to read what happened to me that day.

I’d gone five days without shedding a tear.  I could even say I’d had five days of happiness & acceptance of my lot.  My life felt full of good things.  That is, UNTIL THAT AFTERNOON in the middle of my music class with Mrs. Draper’s 3rd graders.

UNTIL I heard the first few lines of Willie Nelson’s song,  ALWAYS ON MY MIND.  I turned it off after a minute.  IT WAS TOO LATE.  This song wasn’t even Loren and my song.  We knew of the song and it’s “famous-ness”.  The song was sentimental, for sure, but the song held no emotional component for me.  UNTIL NOW, that is.

After hearing a portion of this song my body and emotions were catapulted back into pain & sorrow.  Hours later I’m still feeling remnants of:

  • The pain in my chest
  • The sick feeling in my gut, even at times effecting my digestive system
  • The tears that easily flow or remain bottled up inside of my chest
  • The sense of dread that, “THIS is real! THIS is not going away!  THIS will always resurface at the most inopportune times.”
  • “THIS” meaning:  just when I think I’m really moving forward, something out of somewhere comes around that immediately throws me back into another realization that my husband is gone forever, here on earth that is.

God, Why Can’t I “FEEL” The Way I Used To?

Death, Grief, Loss, Miscellaneous, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

This inaugural blog was posted April 9, 2016 on my brother Dennis Gingerich’s blog. I’m grateful he invited me to share my thoughts after my husband passed away.  Not only is writing therapeutic for me, I’m trusting my words prompt a new appreciation for your loved ones.

When my husband unexepectedly passed away at 7:15 a.m. in our master bedroom with me by his side, one year ago March 2015, I went into “work mode”.  Having worked for a public school for 15 years I’ve been trained in First Aid/ CPR.  Every 3 years I have to practice CPR on a dummy or “live dummy” (co-worker).  Every year I have to watch a video of CPR being given.

WassonSo, that morning when my husband dropped and quit breathing I instinctively knew to call 911 and to immediately start CPR since it’s a good 10 minute drive to my house.  I didn’t allow myself the privilege of watching the clock because I knew every minute, even second, counted.  Life and death counted.

When the Fire Chief/EMT later exited the bedroom pronouncing him deceased, my “life saving mode” was still in gear.  I shook my head, saying, “Yes, I know he’s gone.  I watched him breathe his last breath and I felt my hands crushing into his chest…an unresponsive chest.”

When I could go kneel beside his body and then pull back the white blanket to see his face again, the first words that exploded out of my mouth and heart were, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!   This JUST isn’t right!  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO….this just isn’t right!”

Those 5 words were the first words that left my lips the moment my world stopped.  That morning when Loren and my world stopped spinning, TOGETHER, that is.  That is the morning when my FEELINGS stopped feeling.  That is the morning when God even protected me from the actual pain I was feeling, that is the degree of physical pain I was feeling…..

ONE YEAR LATER I have come to appreciate that protection of SHOCK.  Naturally I cried.  I wept.  I screamed at God.  I could barely eat.  I could barely sleep.  I was so weak I could barely stand in the shower on the morning of his memorial service.

When someone would come up to hug me I would find myself falling forward into their arms.  THEY were hugging me.  Not me hugging them.  I couldn’t feel God’s love towards me any longer.  I couldn’t feel any sort of Lovingkindness or Mercy from our Lord, the God I have worshipped.  But I COULD feel the embrace of a human being.  That embrace was God’s arms extended to me.  That alone was what I needed.  I no longer had my husband’s arms of love and protection.

This image was captured the day after Loren's Celebration of Life.
This image was captured the day after Loren’s Celebration of Life.

Here I am, ONE YEAR LATER…..and  I am seeing there is a price to pay for embracing feelings again.  To welcome my soul back to life, out of the barrenness that I have lived in this past year, means I am waking up inside.  I am feeling much happiness and more normalcy but it’s just now that I’m feeling such heart rendering, gut wrenching, knife in my stomach, feeling like I’m going to pass out because I can’t catch my breath…PAIN of the loss.   For every bit of happiness I’m feeling, I’m equally feeling physical pain when rush of grief hits me.

But I am confident I’m on the way to renewal.  I’m not moving “on” (I very much dislike that phrase). But, I most definitely am moving forward.  So for today, God, I pray that you help me learn to walk this unrequested walk of widowhood.  Gently guide me towards balanced healthiness in all areas of my life.  God, you know my physical body.  You know what I can handle and what I cannot handle.  So if it means gradually waking me up inside I embrace your tender wisdom because You are my Maker and You will complete the healing that You have started.

Question:  Do you have a time when you felt God wasn’t present in your life? I’d love to hear about it in the comment section below.