Going through Grief to Grow in Grace with God

It will be one year since our loss in a few days. Our loss meant; we were left behind by a person who loved us, who believed and helped us hold on to our faith until the thinnest thread. We have passed through many firsts, and this will be the last of the firsts. Sadness is creeping in again as we think of going back to where my husband’s remains are. The initial support we had from the people started to fade, and as they began to provide less support, we are beginning to experience how different our life really is without him.

“Grieving is a challenging process that involves wrestling with difficult thoughts and emotions.” So much has changed, the heartache has caused the change because of the severity of going through that much pain. A pain that felt like a dagger in heart that I never felt before, losing my husband who I promised to love and support.  I am going through a lot of insecurities.  I appear to be confident and assertive, but I seek a lot of validation from people I can trust, especially when it comes to my decision making and most of the time, it is from my daughter, who was forced to “mature” and has suffered a lot. She had to go through a series of medical check-ups and tests after being found unconscious, on top of the previous physical illness she had to go through during our early days of grief.

The healing process is more painful and longer than the wound itself. I miss my husband’s humor. (Our children call it “dad jokes” and did not find it humorous), his charm, I miss his intellect, it was this that caught my attention, and when he sings, I am carried all the way. O, how he loves to sing. He used to sing folk-country songs to the different “beer” houses in the city, singing the likes of John Denver with his pointed boots and guitar at hand, a typical country cowboy- singer in the 80s. When he became a Christian, he continued to enjoy singing and, this time, the hymns of faith and other Christian songs. One of his favorites, “I have been blessed,” is always played repeatedly during our long trips. We named the song his national anthem, among others. As he sings, he intentionally shifts his voice from bass to tenor and sings to the top of his voice until his voice “cracks,” and he laughs. He is a trying-hard Pavarotti, and he knows he will never be because his voice is deep and baritone, a voice made for country singers.

I miss his voice and his songs. I breakdown when his favorite songs were sung during worship services, including those played during his 3-days memorial service. My defenses crumble right in the middle of the songs. I have to hide the wailing and weeping behind my mask and spectacles as the singing continues. My son and daughter, who sat with me, were my comfort. They knew how broken I was and anticipated these triggers. I am blessed to have them by my side. They never left me, and if ever they do, they make sure I have company, they talk to some ladies of the church to look after me and never leave me alone by myself.

I unconsciously look for my husband during services, especially on special occasions; I talk to him as if he is with me. I am still lost on most days. I have been looking and praying to God for real signs; although I know pretty well that God no longer gives signs, I find it comforting to talk to Him and beg. I have to settle that the only way I get to see my husband again is when my time here on earth is done. What I can only do for now is to ask God to send my love and tell him I miss him so much, and the butterflies that we will be releasing in his 1st year serve this purpose. I know that I am getting better, all by God’s grace. I can see the end of the road. I still stumble and fall and but that is ok. A metamorphosis is taking place, and this is a process that cannot be rushed. I am waiting for that time that I can fly again beautifully and carry on the legacy that my husband left behind.

To my darling in heaven, people know your name. They have heard what you have done, good or bad they may be, but they do not know your story, what you’ve been really through. I can hear God telling me to hold tightly to your love and that you have given your all, your best, and you are tired, you need to rest; you already served your purpose here on here; that is why He already took you home, and I should not despair. We will see each other again, which is a promise and my hope.