A Different Kind of Strength

I can only wish for two things now, to go back in time or fast forward the year. I made my resolution to be strong and hold back my tears as Christmas passed through, but I failed. My children and I purposely spent Christmas in my home province as planned with my husband before his and my father’s passing, and so we did. My husband’s favorite food on the table is present, and an empty chair that was reserved for him did not help after all—added to the unprecedented illness of my sister. What used to bring happy memories offered painful reminders of what is no longer. The absence of my husband is overwhelming. We barely survived the day, and here we are still, facing another holiday… the new year.

I told my children that we welcome the year to our home in the city where we used to, but they unanimously objected on the spot despite my persuasion. I can sense that they are bent on not agreeing with me for many reasons, although I can still decide to go for it whether they like it or not, but this time, I will not because I might regret it later.

We had a lot of fights about the decisions I made only to make things worse, and today might be one of those considering the many logical reasons why we should not go against my desire to be with my husband through his tangible memories. My relationship with my children is suffering due to my unstable decision-making. I can sense that they have grown impatient and what is holding them now is their understanding of my condition, and they cannot afford to lose me yet. Still, in the long run, with my constant conditioning that sooner or later, I will follow their father, they are getting used to it and are preparing for the inevitable.

The days are fleeting, 2021 will be over in a few days, and I cannot remember what happened all these months except the pain and the longing for my husband. Memories are not enough to satisfy this longing, especially as I count the remainder of the year. I am, however, grateful to God for getting me through these months. I told my children that I would not be joining them in welcoming the year this time. I will do what my husband used to do, lock up in the room and pray 5 minutes before the new year strikes and join us, but instead of joining them during the festivities and the fireworks display, if there are, I will keep still and join them after all the excitements are over.

I have improved tremendously since the early part of my grief.  My family is happy to see me back to my old self. But I am not really “back.” I am still bouncing back and forth to healing and hurting, grieving and grateful. It is not because I am still in denial or not having to say goodbye but identifying myself after the loss, the learning – live without him, and trying to fill the void and the emptiness left inside.

Each day as evening starts to set and the busyness of the day is over. I can feel the ache that begins to build up again; I need to go to bed and get some rest and sleep it off as I hug the pillow dolls that my daughter ordered for me. The hurt did not silence me at all.

I learned that strength is made of different kinds, and one that is not recognized is the strength to realize one’s frailty. It is the one that needs to be handled with gentleness, and grief is one of them.

I am in my early golden year, and more than half of my life was spent with my husband. After all those years, finding a separate identity is one of the most challenging.  For the first time, I want to be as honest as I can; it is as if I have never done so.

When I say I am sad, lonely, and empty, many people will say that God is always with me and will never leave me. And for this writing, I want to be as articulate as I want to avoid misrepresenting my belief.

I am blessed with a beautiful life. I have Lord who always provides for my needs and my family’s need. I have the most loving and caring children, friends, family, church family, even co-workers. I am more than blessed. But as I lay my body to rest at night… I feel so alone.

I feel so alone as I have nobody to talk to about anything and everything that transpired through the day. I feel alone as there is no one to hold my hand and a shoulder to cry on when my emotions overtake me. I feel alone when I need a person to run to when I have problems, or I need advice without being so good so as not to offend me. I feel alone when there is a decision that needs to be made. I feel alone when I find a scripture that needs clarification… I feel alone when I wake up in the middle of the night, just crying.

I feel alone when it is time for family to go to church and when we pray together. I feel alone when I have victories and jobs well done, in failures and defeats; I feel alone when I see the beauty of God’s creations, and there is no one to share that beauty with….. I feel alone when my children and I travel long hours during holidays and eat out along the way.

Many people say: “just call me,” but most are busy doing life with their families and work. Being alone and now “single” tossed me into a different ground. I find it hard to relate with friends we had as a couple. (I am jealous of them.) As a single person, I have to fill the role of both a mother and a father. I have to work and maintain a home…… People try and help, but at the end of the day, I am alone, and if you have time today, can you pray for that single person, not just me who lost his partner but to those you know? Most likely, they are hurting, and you never hear them say so because they are not as open as I am, that I have to learn the hard way where the emotional pain caused me physical pain.

Though I am still healing, hurting, and grieving, I am grateful for God’s gift of life. By God’s grace, I will be used to bring meaning to someone’s life who is going through the same storm as I am. I am led to believe that “the deepest ministry will come out of the deepest hurt-and the deepest life message will come out of the deepest pain. In an area of life when a person experiences pain, we have a testimony. The suffering, not only success, gives the person credibility. It is faithfulness until the end, not fame, that earns respect.”

Someday, I will join my husband in the glory of Heaven, but until then, I must and should press on and move as God directs. It’s a new chapter with a new tale to be told. God’s story through me is not yet completed, and I am sure my husband is cheering for me way beyond the clouds.