One year ago..

 As I type these words, it is March 17th. St Patrick's Day. Tomorrow, March 18th, is a milestone that I have been dreading. One year ago tomorrow, my beloved husband breathed his last here on earth and woke up in Heaven.  I have decided to blog about my journey of grief that began that morning. I pray it is both a step of healing for my own heart and also that it brings glory to my God who has brought me through and continues to walk with me. 

When I woke up and discovered Matt still and lifeless beside me, James woke up at almost the same time and I heard him coming to our room. Frantically, I tried to shield him from what was happening, but he did see his Daddy. Words came out of me as I tried to comfort my four-year-old son. I remember telling him, I think Daddy has gone to Heaven. James started crying and I told him, I think God decided it was time for him to come home to Heaven. The words seemed to comfort James in some small way. 

One of Matt's friends and coworkers showed up within a couple minutes and did CPR. A college student came running from the dorm to try to help as well. The paramedics came and eventually took him by ambulance. A friend came and gently took James to her house where she cared for him most of the day. Two more friends took me to the hospital. One of them drove while the other one called my parents and my husband's family to relay the situation.

 Once at the hospital, those two women sat with me for hours. The friend who did CPR showed up and sat with his wife as well. They held me as I wept when the official word came from a doctor that Matt was gone. Later, the college president and his wife arrived and joined us, hugging me and weeping with me. One of my friends offered to go get me breakfast but I could not think of food. She went and got me coffee though. My brother arrived. By God's providence, he happened to be an hour away for some work training. He lives in Colorado. It was no accident God brought him to Kentucky that week. He held me and prayed with me. Matt's brother arrived and his parents. Weeping, we comforted each other as best we could. 

I went in and said goodbye to Matt. Seeing him there, I knew "he" wasn't there. But I smoothed his hair away from his forehead and lovingly spoke to him, expressing my sorrow that he was gone as sobs shook my being. 

Somehow, I survived the next few days. Family arrived and some of them stayed for several days which was a blessing. The visitation and funeral were tough but also such a comfort as hundreds came and expressed their love for us. I barely ate. Sleep was difficult. I moved into the guest room for several weeks. But eventually, one night, I felt ready to return to my room. James slept with me for weeks as well. I would get him to sleep then go to the living room and watch countless episodes of "The Lucy Show". For whatever reason, it was the only thing I could watch in those initial weeks of shock and grief. The gentle humor soothed my spirit. I'd watch it and sip tea then go try to sleep. I would message family and friends who would support me with comforting words and prayers. I would never have made it without those prayers.

Decisions had to be made. A job offer came from the college. I spent several days praying. God made it very clear to me I was supposed to stay and take the job. I planned to homeschool James. I had childcare set up for the year. Eventually, that plan fell through, and I made the decision with lots of prayer to enroll James mid-fall at a local public school. He has thrived there with a caring teacher and made many friends and I'm grateful. I had to move a few months after Matt's death. God gave strength and provision as I began the painful process of sorting through our possessions and packed and moved. I still don't know how I did it. It was very difficult. But once we were settled in our new home on campus, I grew to love our new cheerful home. Our old home was a wonderful place to share memories together for almost four years. But this new chapter brought us a new home to make new memories in. And the good thing is, we can walk past our old house anytime we want, and we often do. Choosing a gravestone was difficult. But God allowed me to have a good experience with a courteous and thoughtful salesman there who made the process as smooth as possible. Many more decisions had to be made and for each one, God provided wisdom and peace. 

Over the past year, I've seen God work in this painful valley. My son was very fearful of the idea of Heaven But now, his Daddy is there, and he no longer talks about going to Heaven with fear. I've seen God use my story to comfort and encourage other friends. God has used my pain to refine me in ongoing ways. The loneliness of the last year has driven me time and again to God. It has taught me to open up and express myself to others in the family of God. I'm introverted by nature, but I have learned this year how much I need other people. I need the Body of Christ. Never more so than now. 

Grief is a heavy load to carry. Unfortunately, there is no way to bypass it. It can show up in unexpected ways when I least expect it. One minute, I may be laughing about something. The next, tears of sorrow may spill. God alone knows how many hours I've spent weeping crumpled on the kitchen floor this year. Or how many times I've stood under a starry sky, tears slowly dripping down my face as I whisper my heartache in prayer to God. Or how many times I have done all I could to distract myself from the pain of this new normal of being a single, widowed mama. But slowly, slowly, the grief has become less sharp. It is still there and I expect I will always have days where the loss will bring tears. But I love the verse, weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning. 

I'm hopeful for the future. I do not know what paths God may lead me on in the years to come. But I have learned to depend on God in ways I never wanted to learn. And I am here today to say, God is faithful. He is good. I do not understand why he took Matt home to Heaven at age 38. I do not understand why my little boy has to grow up without the guidance and firm but loving care of his earthly father. I do not understand why I have to be alone at this season of my life desperately missing the loving relationship of my husband. But I am learning to trust God. I'm not doing it perfectly. I have had to confide in friends many times this year about dozens of struggles to trust God with my emotions and my grief. But somehow, God has not given up on me. He still has a purpose for my life. He is still using Matt's life for His purposes too. He is at work in James's life as well. 

Tomorrow will be a hard day; I have no doubt of that. I may stay in bed most of the day. I don't know. I may feel like going places. Who knows. Grief is a strange beast. I do know this, whatever emotions come tomorrow, I plan to look back and remember the years I had with Matt with gratefulness.