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Friday, March 21, 2014

On Being Widowed at Twenty-Four: Six Years Later

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 In wasn't until this past September, that I began opening the boxes that contained his things. They were the remnants of what had survived the first purge. Right after he died I went through most everything. Giving the obligatory things away to family and friends, trashing the rubbish, and holding onto everything else that didn’t quite fit into a category. Some of which I was too afraid to live without. Afraid that throwing things away, like that nearly empty bottle of cologne that smelled of our early dating days, would somehow be throwing parts of him away as well. When I moved from the house we spent most of our marriage in together I couldn’t even pack up those remnants on my own. I delegated that task to a friend and the woman who would become my new mother-in-law.

I lugged the whole heap of boxes to three more homes in the course of six years. My current husband full of grace, because he understood. After all, when I lost Darryl, he lost his best friend. I started off strong that September day. I thought it would be enough to soldier through old memories, familiar smells, and things long forgotten with the impenetrability developed over the six (longer than they should be) years. I was wrong. Somewhere in the middle I couldn’t do it anymore. A cloud of grief hung over me. And the tears began to sting my eyes. I got as far as I could and left the task undone. I don’t know when I’ll face the rest of those boxes again.

...

Grief is a weird thing. I wish I could tell you of all the progress I’ve made over the years but the truth is that I still have so far to go.  When it comes to grief I believe you can’t get it right or wrong. For the most part you just have to do what works for you. For most of us this requires a good counselor and a solid community of friends.

It was quiet here the last week in February. February 29-March 22, is always a weird time for me. It always huddles around Spring and Lent. I’m never quite sure exactly how to memorialize these three weeks from the time of Darryl’s motorcycle accident, through his coma, and to the morning of his death. Some years I am good at remembering it all well and some years if I just plant one marigold I count that a win.

On March 23, something unique will happen. Darryl will have been gone longer than we were together. I don’t know what this means for my grief or for going forward. Somedays it’s hard to believe that I was married for three years and then widowed at twenty-four. Other days I realize how much Darryl’s life and our marriage shaped me.

So as we approach this six year (I still can’t believe it) anniversary of Darryl’s death, would you pray for me in the midst of my mourning? And I’ll pray that God would meet you in the midst of your grief over whatever hardships, suffering, losses, or struggles life has brought you. Because, the truth? Pain is the one thing we all have in common. 



14 comments:

  1. Much love my friend. I don't know what else to say, but wishing you love.

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    1. Renia, that is perfect. I love that you don't give empty words or pat answers just for the sake of having something to say. Thank you, friend.

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  2. Oh, hon...I didn't know this part of your story. How my heart goes out to you. I will be praying as you approach this date this weekend. I'm praying God meets you and gives you a special peace and word to your heart that will comfort you. Big hugs.

    Sending love and prayers and HOPE. Our word. xo

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    1. Thanks, Katie. My story is one of much pain, suffering, and loss. Praying God has a plan for it all.

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  3. Of course I am praying for you! Crazy thing...I sat with a new friend this morning and told her about Darryl's death, about our friendship, about CrossRidge, and my marriage, and journeying with God into His Word and Church like never before. The shape of it all still amazes me. Gods plans are/were clearly beyond what I could imagine. Know that I am thinking of you, grieving with you, and most importantly lifting you up before the Father. I love you!

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    1. Thank you so much friend. It's so good to hear from you.

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  4. This brings back so many memories of my own. Praying for you, Joy. Love you.

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    1. Jacqui, it's so good to know I'm not alone. Thank you so much for your prayers. Love you, too.

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  5. It's funny how 6 years can feel like an eternity and an instant at the same time. I am praying for you today and thanking God for your faithful witness through those 3 weeks and the years since.

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    1. Jennifer, your words and encouragement mean so much to me. Thank you.

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  6. So with you in all this... Grief is its own journey while in the midst of doing life as "normal". Thanks for sharing this part of your journey with us. Our lives are enriched by knowing more of your story, for in it we find a friend who understands and a bit more of ourselves is unveiled...and welcomed. <3 Love your writing, Joy!

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  7. Thank you, Kris. Love you and your beautiful heart and words.

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  8. Thinking of you often friend...

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