More to the story

The rest of the story of the 10th of May is that my friend and I spent the day working on a quilt for our host family when we go to the Czech Republic in 2 months.  She loved Tom, too, so it was good to remember and laugh and cry.  It feels so good to hear other people talk about him--telling what they loved about him, funny memories or things he said.

On my way to my friend's house I realized something powerful--for several months now I have been so afraid of these days in May.  I tried to find ways to avoid them by leaving town or if I stayed in town then I felt an enormous pressure (from myself) to make the days important and special--just didn't know quite how to do that.  Then when it all turned around and I experienced so much peace I found myself rushing toward the 9th and the 10th of May looking forward to what they would hold and the sweet memories of Tom, feeling again so loved and cherished by him.  He's more alive than I am!  I miss him terribly but I KNOW where he is--he's safe, he's healthy, he's full of life for all eternity!  AND he's gotten to meet Jesus face to face!  AND we'll see each other again some day.  My fear is gone!  I embrace this peace that passes all understanding and want to keep it forever.

At the end of the day I enjoyed dinner out at the Woodinville Cafe--a favorite of Tom's--with two close couple friends.  On Wednesday the staff from my church took me out to lunch to celebrate Tom.  My, he was loved!

Yesterday I spent the day in bed with a stomach bug.  Thankful that it was short lived.

Today was a new day--borrowed a friend's pickup truck and drove to deJung's on Avondale to pick up dirt for my two new raised vegetable beds.  Made two trips for a total of 2 yards of soil.  Me, my shovel and wheelbarrow got the job done.  Tomorrow I plan to go for one more load of compost this time--they say it's lighter!  When I turned on the radio in the truck it was turned to a country western station.  I enjoyed listening to lyrics like, "if I get some money I'll buy a Mercury or two" and this one had me laughing out loud--"I don't do windows, don't even ask but I'm real good at drinking beer."  I really am a farm girl at heart (raised on a chicken farm) and it felt good driving a truck, moving dirt and getting beds ready to plant.

Life is totally different without Tom.  He's had such a profound influence on my life--I'll be forever thankful.  One thing he never did was sit around and mope--he lived life to the fullest and I plan to follow his example.  Man, I love that man!

This is the day. . .

Woke up this morning and the first thoughts in my mind were, "This is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it" from the Psalms.  It's true--this is the day that the Lord has made.  Each day is a gift from him that we get to open and experience.  A year ago this was the day that the Lord took Tom home to be with him.  Much grief filled that day and the days to come but in the midst of it the Spirit of God has never left my side.  God's right hand has held me up no matter what.  He uses what comes with each day to mold me and make me into the person he has created me to be.  What peace comes with that knowledge.

I will rejoice and be glad in it.  The only thing I own in this life (I am convinced) is my attitude.  What an amazing and uplifting statement from David the author of most of the Psalms.  He rejoiced and was glad.  I choose to rejoice and be glad.  I started listing all that there was to rejoice and be glad about and the list just goes on and on.  Right at the top is the gift of Tom--his love and care and devotion and faithfulness that filled me to overflowing.  Our children and their mates and my grandchildren--my cup really does run over.  My extended family and friends who cover me with their care and love.  The list goes on and on.  But right now I am going to get up and go enjoy this day--it's a gift and I'm going to enjoy unwrapping it knowing that Giver is the one who loves me most.

At peace

The last few weeks I've felt almost panicky about today and tomorrow.  Tom died on Monday the 10th of May 2010.  Today is Monday and tomorrow is the 10th.  But this last week has been very different.  The only way I can describe it is peace-filled.  I know there are many out there who are praying for me and I believe it has made a huge difference.

Tonight all my kids and grandkids (except Katie who is at school) gathered for dinner.  I spent the day cooking one of Tom's favorite Swedish meals--kaldomar (stuffed cabbage rolls).  I even made his favorite cake--also Swedish--a blotkake (lots of whip cream!)  It felt all day like I was cooking for Tom.  I knew how he would react to each of the foods, how he would wait till I was finished decorating the cake and then graciously clean up all that was left of the whip cream!  How he would comment how good the kaldomar smelled as it was baking.  How much he anticipated the family being together.

It felt so good to all be together.  We even had unexpected out of town relatives staying with us join in on the night.  All I can say is there is nothing like family.  I feel very blessed by God for the one he has given me and very loved by each one.  Who can ask for more?  I see Tom in each one, too.  He had and continues to have a powerful influence in our lives.  Thank you, God, for the gift of Tom.  Even though he wasn't here physically tonight he was here with us.  He would have enjoyed the night. 

And now the house is quiet and I am going to bed very thankful for the sense of peace I feel.  Tomorrow I am going to quilt with my friend Nancy.  We are making a quilt for our host family we will be staying with in the Czech Republic in July.  Finding ways to serve others, to make a difference in the lives of others is also a powerful grief fighting tool.

Yes, the emotions are near the surface but it doesn't feel frightening any more.  I know who is in charge and I trust him with my days.  He has proven himself so incredibly faithful this last year and way beyond.  I praise you, Lord.  Please tell Tom how much he is loved and missed.  Thank you that I can trust you with him, too.

Today

Today I said goodbye to our RV.  Tom and I had so many wonderful trips in it--the memories of being in it always make me smile (except today they are making my eyes full of tears).  Tom's favorite thing to say each time we took off in it was, "I can't believe we have an RV!"  He loved it.  Now it's on its way to Texas with my brother behind the wheel.  It makes me happy to know who has it and to think how much they will enjoy it--a new chapter.

Today I remembered that 4 years ago our grandson Harper, just 5 days old, left us for heaven.  I still picture his great-grandmother greeting him, snuggling him down and rocking him with her "so-so" song.  His twin brother, Maximus, talks of him often.

Toay I feel that it is "count-down" until the 10th.

I heard a new song yesterday.  Don't know all the lyrics--must find out how to find them--but some of the lines said, "it's now what I would choose, but it's what You use."  I also heard the end of an interview with a woman who had experienced much pain in her life but was using that pain as an inspiration for reaching out to women who were caught in sex trafficking.  I truly believe she is on the right track.  It would be easy to focus on the pain BUT turning the grief into serving others feels so much better.  Whether it's spending time with grandchildren, creating new vegetable gardens, getting ready to go on a mission to Russian speaking people in the Czech Republic or quilting--it's all helping.  The hugs from my family and friends continue to keep me grounded and connected. 

Wish the words would come easier.  It's harder than ever to put my thoughts down but it seems important that I try.  Is it?  Does it matter?

Eleven months

It's been a very long time since I added to this blog. It's 11 months as of yesterday, the 10th, since Tom left this world for his home in heaven. Oh, how I miss him. As I look back on this year I realize that I've stopped thinking about Tom as being sick (for the most part) and remember him well and active, smiling and full of hugs. The "problem" is that it makes me miss him that much more. Thinking about him being released from the illness that kept robbing him of his body it was easier to be thankful for his release. Now I find myself falling in love with him all over again as I remember his special qualities. He could never tell me he loved me enough--I miss that. I even miss his crazy antics that sometimes drove me crazy. He didn't care a whole lot about what people thought--he just was who he was, loved being with people and they loved being with him. How blessed I've been to be the love of his life.

Yesterday and today I just keep leaking tears. It's hard to define what I'm feeling. I just know that it's coming from deep inside and I'm powerless to stop it. I don't know how to do this one year anniversary. Do I want to be by myself? Do I want to surround myself with family or friends? I'm leaning toward being on my own and am coming up with ideas of where I might go to mark the day. It just feels very private. Maybe it's the uncertainty of what my emotions will be that day. It feels a little scary for some reason. More than anything everything I have read and from what has been shared in grief groups is the idea that everyone greives differently and there is no right way or one way to do it. The admonition has been just to go with it.

I am so thankful for my children and grandchildren who are the joys of my life. I hear Tom's care for me through their care. I love it when Tom is a part of our conversation and the laughter that continues to originate with him. He really does continue to live through our memories. I suppose the depth of sadness is just an extension of the depth of love we had for each other. Amazing that it can continue to grow even after death.

Thank you, Lord, for giving us minds that remember.

How different this Tuesday from last Tuesday. Last Monday evening I began a support group called Grief Share. My plan was to go and listen to the video, listen politely to what others had to share and then go home--in other words, not to really involve myself. Even while filling out paper work at the beginning I did not speak to the woman sitting next to me. I really had a wall around me and pretended to be invisible. Well, God had other plans. The table facilitator was too good at drawing us out. Tears flowed. Lives were opened and shared pain understood. When I left I cried all the way home. The next day I felt so down and sad. It felt like I had taken 3 steps back yet intellectually I knew I had to go back in order to go forward. All week I had this sense that I was outside myself looking at me, analyzing what I was feeling. Feeling and thinking about the feeling all at the same time. Feelings magnified--highs higher and lows lower.



Yesterday was Monday and all day I felt lousy--headache, stomache ache, tired--plenty of excuse to not go back last night. But I knew I had to go, not just for me but for the others I had met last week. It was painful to drive to Northshore. I decided maybe my stomach would feel better if I ate something so I stopped and got a bowl of soup which I ate in the car in the parking lot. I just knew I was going to spill some on the front of me AND I DID. Now I had another excuse not to go. But somehow I did go. Met the wonderful facilitator from last week walking in and shared how hard it was to come. She was very encouraging and her hug helped. The video was again very informative and assuring--talked about grief being like being on a roller coaster with many of the same physical affects--disorientation, fear, nausea, up and down, etc. New people were at our table this week--would I risk sharing? Interesting thing happened--when I listened to others sharing it broke down all the walls and I found myself sharing without reserve, mindless of the tears, knowing we were all in this thing called grief together.



I brought Tom's quilt to share and boy, did it open doors. I am already making 2 quilts for a friend who lost his wife. Last night two women asked if I would teach them how to make one out of their husband's clothing and a man asked if I would make one for him. I think I have a new mission and I am thrilled. I know how much Tom's quilt means to me and to be able to give that gift to others makes me so happy. I'm also finding it very healing. And to think this all started because I ordered a how-to video for my granddaughter for her to learn how to quilt not knowing it was really for me!



This morning I woke with the words of a praise song running through my mind--and my mind is so like a sieve that the words have come and gone in such a short time! I just know that it was with joy that I woke this morning--seeing God's hand in the midst of this roller coaster ride. (Never did like real roller coasters and avoided them.) Can't avoid this one. This morning I will enjoy the fact that I am up and trust that He will hold me close when I go down.

Now is not forever

I went camping with dear, close friends last weekend. Tom and I had camped with them multiple times in the past. This trip had been planned since early in the year, purposely staying close to home/doctors for the sake of Tom. It turned out our friend Dale is the one who needed to stay close. I had planned to take the RV but weeks prior to going my friends had talked it over and thought it would be too hard for me and invited me to stay in their RV with them. I had been having the same thoughts and was grateful for their invitation. It was so hard to be there without Tom BUT I don't want to give up being with this special group of people. It's hard and it's wonderful all at the same time. It's feels so special to be with people who knew and loved Tom, to talk about him as only people who shared his life can, to remember as only people who were there can. I just got an email from someone who said she thought I should find new friends who were not part of my time with Tom so it wouldn't hurt so much. She is sooooo wrong. How could I talk about Tom with people who didn't know him? Maybe it hurts more but I think it's going to hurt no matter what so why not be with people who shared Tom's and my life and continue to care. I don't want to stop talking about him or thinking about him and I think that's where good friends come in. I treasure them more than ever.

It has been 3 months since Tom died--it's August 10. The day felt magnified somehow. Tears were close to the surface from the time I woke up. I took Moose and went to Kylisa's thinking that being with all the little grandboys would help. But nothing could stop the tears. I knew I needed to get away to be by myself and let go. The tears come whether people are around or not but there's a deep feeling of just needing to let go and not be contained that's harder when others are around. It feels like it needs to be private. Didn't know where to go so spent some time driving and ended up in a park where I could just sit in my car and cry as much as my body had need of crying. My greatest fear was that it wouldn't stop and crying would now be the way I was going to live--forever.

After talking it over with my children I decided I wanted to go away for a few days. Found a cottage that was available, packed a few things and left the next morning. Stopped to get the mail on the way out of town and found two special gifts waiting for me. One was a card from a friend with this on the front: "The Lord knows the pain you feel, the grief you carry, the tears you cry, the memories you'll cherish, the comfort you need, the strength you'll require." That would have been wonderful encouragement to read any day but it was extra special to get it when I did.

The other gift was Book 2 (of 4) of a series called "Experiencing Grief." The first book had been such a help that I couldn't wait to see what this one had to say. I had identified with so much the first book had said--"it" understood. This book was the same. At the park I kept seeing people who were playing and walking and talking--LIKE EVERYTHING WAS NORMAL! But nothing feels normal. Tom is gone and nothing is the same. On the first page of the book, the author said the same thing! He even said he got into his car and cried. I'm like others--it sometimes takes a few months for the reality to sink in. It feels heavy like walking through mud and a deep fog all at the same time. The book says this isn't all bad--"because it means that you are feeling." But feeling HURTS! How long will it hurt so much? The book says experiencing feelings is one step toward healing--how many steps are there?

The first 3 months have been a piece of cake compared with this. I even wondered if I was through grieving! Wishful (dumb) thinking? "Half the battle is just accepting the grief and letting yourself grieve." "Simply move with it and let it take you where it wants to go." Boy, does that sound like out of control living--and scary. Don't know when it's going to mug me, how I will react. The verse comes to mind that took Tom and me through out last year together--"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths." I've learning to trust Him with my circumstances. Trusting Him with my emotions is something new--it's a new letting go. The book says, "When you let your feelings out--feel them to the full--they lose their power over you." Isn't that just like God to create in us feelings and then mean for them to be felt! AHHH! This is going to be a hard lesson to learn. I pray I learn it quickly.

One thing that was comforting in this new book was this quote: "It's very normal to experience lapses of memory, difficulty concentrating, a slow response time, or absent-mindedness"--maybe I'm not developing dementia!

One chapter heading is called, "A Good Cry." "Weeping is perhaps the most humand most universal of all relief measures." Too bad your eyes burn and head throbs when you are through. "Each good cry lets a little more of the pain out of your system." OK, if it helps with the pain then bring it on. I don't want to hurt but at the same time the hurt feels good in a way because it tells me, no, it shows me how much I loved Tom, how dear and precious he was/is to me, how much I miss him. Memories are more precious than ever and everything I see brings a memory of life with Tom.

I always wanted to be an old couple with Tom. I love seeing old people walking hand in hand or sitting close and think it is a beautiful thing to see. Now it hurts but at the same time makes me so thankful again and again for 41 years with him. 41 years of memories. 41 years of love--in love and loved. Now is not forever--I will keep reminding myself. If the tears come I will try not to fight them. If I need to cry deep and hard my car is a safe place.