I didn’t realize until after my husband died how many layers I had put on my personality during his illness. They were there to protect me and in honesty, to continue a façade that would protect my daughters. I didn’t want them suffering the demise of their Dad along with a realization that Mom was in pretty rough pain also. So I was brave … at least I gave the illusion of being brave.
But as each memory surfaced I wept bitterly. And of course I was surrounded by memories … hundreds of memories … memories of a 18-year old that had taken me home from a dance, gone in and awakened his mom and said “I’ve just taken home the girl I am going to marry.” And, marry her he did, for 54 years. (Proverbs 30:18 … There are some things too mysterious to understand … a man and a woman falling in love.)
As those thousands of memories rose to the surface, I would cry. Sometimes it was just a tear or two that I would wipe off my cheeks, but often a torrent of tears. Afterwards I often felt cleansed, as if rubber bands had been released or another confining skin had loosened.
Gradually I was able to relax a bit and sleep at night came more easily.
I have found that my memories, regardless of how sad, will not destroy me. I gave permission for those waves of grief to wash over me and as each one did I felt like an onion, letting go of skins of grief that were restricting my enjoying the blessings of the present day.
And there are blessings. God is not stingy. I had had articles printed in the Presbyterian Record before Harry’s death but was asked to do a weekly article for the web page. God did have a plan for me … one much bigger than I had ever imagined.
Having faced the one thing I feared most … the death of my husband, I no longer feel like I will disintegrate. I have gifts to share and I am stronger than I realized and there is still a future waiting for me.
Printed in New Hope newsletter, Sept.2010
