Never in a million years would I have thought that I would say those words. I didn't think I would say "cancer" or "gravesite" much less "job search" or "single", but I do now.
My husband, John, died of cancer the day before Thanksgiving 2012, after being diagnosed just the Easter before. Some holidays. We started with stage 4 and spent those 8 months fighting, cherishing, and preparing. John's absence has my head spinning.
It's been 6 1/2 weeks.
There are times when I look back and smile thinking how awesome all of our memories are. We have thousands of pictures and tons of videos of our travels and triumphs, parties and relationships. Joy.
And then there are times when I lose my breath because I think about the future when his paychecks no longer show up in our bank account, when he won't be at our daughter Rachel's wedding, when he won't chime in to help Jake decide where to go to college or even what to do when he grows up. Fear.
But I am told that I should not get ahead of myself - to take a day at a time. Me? The one who already knows what my choir will sing at next year's graduation? The one who is planning our Christmas vacation 2013? The one who knows what we are eating for dinner for the next 3 days already?
My friend Ron explained a concept of looking into the future with the correct focus. He said it like this: "If we were to think about ALL of the athletic workouts that we will do throughout our whole lives, all of the miles that we will run, it would be too much. We can only think of it one basketball game at a time, 4 miles at a time. This is doable". I will absolutely panic and lose my breath if I think about the 10,000 more miles that I have yet to run. But I don't have to run that today. Just 4 miles today.
So, I start, today, thinking about today and maybe the next 6 months. I need to switch our health insurance. My friend Bruns will help me do that. My kids will help me plan our spring break trip to California. Or maybe Florida. See, if I think too far ahead my head spins and I am overwhelmed...and these days I am just trying to get my feet underneath me.
And I can't run without my feet.
Kristen - I applaud your start. It's been 6 1/2 weeks. A lifetime. It's only been 6 1/2 weeks. Seems like a lifetime. It seems you are getting your feet underneath you but there will be days when they slip out. Don't panic when that happens. They will come back under you the next day.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry we didn't keep in touch after high school, it seems like you turned into an amazing adult - not that you weren't a great kid - just saying that it seems like you are someone I'd like to have as a good friend. I'm sorry that things are no longer the fairytale you seemed to be living, at least from outward appearances. I didn't lose a husband, but I did lose both my parents in a tragic way at a young age. The pain doesn't ever go away, but it does lessen. I applaud your courage to start moving forward. Don't worry if you stumble. There will be people there to help you get back up.
Martha Collins Zeeman
Kristin, I've been thinking about you and praying for you and wondering how you've been doing. I'm so glad you're blogging so I can stay up with you this way. Thanks for sharing. You have my ongoing prayers for the journey.
ReplyDeleteShelly