Walking Through the Storms

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A Joyful Reunion

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   Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted (Matt. 5:4) 

      April 23, 2021, two years ago was my last view, last touch, and conversation with my husband. Though full of learning and unimagined blessings, this journey of grief is one I would joyfully exchange to have him with me again. But I must recognize God’s sovereignty, His plan, and the fact that he is now happier than ever. I know this because he had been preaching and longing for this reunion with our Maker. It may not be in a way he wanted his untimely passing to happen of being sick, but he would have preferred The  Rapture to take place, which we all, as Christians, wish for.

     I can only imagine my husband’s entry into the presence of God two years ago, and that while God is his center of attention, he also loved seeing his other loved ones who had gone ahead of him, his elder brother and father, my parents, my brother-in-law, his relatives and loved ones in the faith and our “son,” whom we named  “Brucelee” taken into heaven before he was ever born and to this very day, is serving the Lord joyfully and also waiting for me when my time here is over.

     One of the truths I love and is comforting is God’s promise that “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away and he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. (Rev. 21: 4-5) and I am looking forward to this day too.

     My husband was my prayer partner and is still my silent prayer partner today, although in another way. He still speaks to everyone who knew him well enough here, through his life, and one day I will hear not just memories of his voice but his actual voice, more delightful than ever.

     For now, grief has become my companion and God’s anvil to work in my life. Nobody ever wanted to experience grief because it comes with loss and being uninvited. But it is His way to test and strengthen my faith. The deep pain in facing this fallen world without my husband isn’t just suffering for me to get beyond; it is suffering that is purposeful, achieving what’s of eternal value.

     I was not able to say goodbye to my husband because I was full of hope, but with the hope in Jesus Christ, his passing is not the end of our relationship but only a temporary interruption. The grand reunion awaits us, and I anticipate it and delight in imagining it with everything in me. God delivered my husband from his many struggles and suffering, and I believe there could have been more, but to know my darling to never suffer again for all eternity brings tears of joy.

     Although it is painful to think that he is not here anymore, when I feel that longing, I get outside, breathe, pray, and think of God’s promises.

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Keeping the Faith

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     It will be two years in a month since our loss, and the passing of time somehow taught me that pain, sadness, tears, fears, and grief will always be part of life. Although the surge of sorrow is no longer as immense as the first year, it doesn’t mean that the days get any easier. I have to deal with it every day. There are so many memories and triggers, at church, with people, and tears just fell unexpectedly. I see my husband’s semblance in our children, especially the strength of character in our daughter, who is coping well by God’s grace after she acknowledged her grief. I am now experiencing more comforted grief moderated by our Father in heaven, although I still struggle, bouncing back and forth between wholly trusting God and questioning God and His plan for my life.     

This year, I am healed and healing…I hear familiar songs without really getting emotional. There are still meltdowns that come out of nowhere, like the waves of the sea. It shows whenever the thought feels like it, but the real challenge is rebuilding our life (without him physically), but his likes, fashion, and lifestyle continue. Keeping my faith helps me through each day. I am holding and falling into God’s hands. He is in complete control, as it is more than I can handle at times. I must trust in him to guide me and direct what I feel is more than possible. I am thankful and blessed to have God with me and for making me not feel so alone. With Him, I am better and realize that joy can still be found. The grief and sadness we have from the loss of my husband will never go away, but that all-consuming sorrow will, as Jesus is leading me to. 

     I wonder what life for two years be like for us; I can imagine us in the city where he pastored. He would probably be “stirring the pot” and should have been 55 by now (but he will always be 53 in my heart). I can only imagine how joyful it would be to see him home, his voice, his teasing, his touch. I miss my cowboy husband; I miss him so. I am infinitely blessed, honored, and thankful to God that we had each other for 34 years (25 years married, nine years engagement). Sharing his memories with people he loved is helping me. It also reminded them about a piece of himself that they had lost in touch with and somehow returned, and sharing these helps us hold securely to the pages already written about him.

    I look forward to the ones that will still be written and will keep going. My love will continue his story, and I will keep writing as I wait to see him on that beautiful shore. My love for him has only grown since I last saw him, and as the day passes, it gets me closer to meeting him again

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A Daughter’s Grief

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In my grief, I thought I was the only one struggling the hardest, but I was wrong; In my selfishness, I failed to recognize that my daughter, who has shown so much strength and bravery, is all the while, grieving by herself.

 You can call my daughter to be “papa’s girl. This realization happened when she was in college; she and her brother had difficulty communicating with their papa during their childhood and early adolescence. Their papa was a disciplinarian. To him, wrong is wrong, and sin is sin. He doesn’t listen to any excuses. What is important to him is you know and acknowledge that you are wrong and that your reason for doing it is immaterial. I have to turn deaf ears and blind eyes as I see my children being punished for their mistakes, but after the punishment, their papa explains to them why he had to do it; whether they understand it or not, I knew it turned out to be good for them. Their papa’s resignation from his secular job to the full-time prison ministry was life changing. We saw the change in him; he became more caring, and at one point, in our carnality, we thought it was to compensate for the material/physical “wants” that he could not provide us, but we were happy. They admitted that their papa molded them into who they are becoming.. their papa’s faith, obedience, commitment, and dedication to God were our comfort. True enough, as my husband said in one of his preaching, “Many of us may not have the possessions for our children to inherit. The best inheritance we could give them is a godly inheritance.”

 Our children did not give us headaches and heartaches. As our daughter grew up, her relationship with her papa grew deeper. Their conversations evolved about life, career, ministry, and even the choice of a lifetime partner. When she finally graduated from college, passed the board examination, and started working and living independently, she still made it a point to go home almost always on weekends. She still asks permission to go out of town with her officemates or any overnight activities, which my husband quickly approves without thinking, while I have to argue with him for some time.

 My daughter was strong-willed yet sweet, generous, and a talker. She likes to talk a lot. She is “noisier” than me, so we missed her and her obsessive compulsiveness for our floor when she lock-downed during the pandemic. She wants them clean and, until today, is obsessed with a vacuum cleaner. 

My husband and I talk about how blessed we are with our children. During his last days (which I didn’t know was coming), with the concerns about our stay in their family home, he told me that our daughter would be holding the flag for us, for our family, and she is holding on and hanging on, until today, this very hour, minute and second. 

 We are on our 21st month of loss, filled with episodes of sadness, loneliness, sickness, and exhaustion, not to forget the first 12 months of sorrow. For my daughter, I watched her stand up and make decisions for us in 2021, I saw her strength and courage in 2022, but at the start of 2023, I heard her struggle with grief which she had been keeping. We were surprised (with her brother) when she finally opened up but quickly said that she was dramatizing, but I know it was not. I saw her honesty and read through her heart. How could I miss it? I wasn’t the only one that was struggling after all. For the longest time, I knew that she was grieving, but I never thought it was not as painful as I have. She did not show any of it, and I know she did it because she didn’t like to fail us, his papa’s expectation. My grief blinded me, and I almost “lost” my daughter.

 Throughout my journey in this grief, my daughter always pleaded with me to get up, and she reminded me that I was strong. I still have them to live for, and I am doing that now by God’s grace, my faith lifting me with the support of my loved ones. and as I am gaining my strength and moving forward, my heart was broken when I learned, one basic truth, my daughter is grieving hard- she has been keeping it to herself. Her papa’s loss gave her separation anxiety. She realized this when her best friend, her roommate, was sent by their company to another country for three months, and after the holiday, she was again sent back for three more months. It becomes clear now why she has to ask me to go to her place, and she would childishly and sweetly tell me to visit her in their dorm and that her place is conducive for my online classes with no internet connection problem. Now, I understand why she had also grown “bigger”. To lighten up our conversation because I was about to break down, I told  her that I am allowing her to enter a relationship and not wait until she is 35. but she seriously she said she will not. She cannot imagine and see herself getting married, more so walking down the aisle without her papa to give her in marriage. I told her that her brother and I would, but she said it was still different. She doesn’t like to walk down the aisle without her papa. and since that conversation, it also dawned on me  that she has changed. She was no longer the “talker” that we once knew. She became serious and immersed herself into her job to deviate from grieving  and no wonder if topics about her papa surface, she avoids them. 

 I am sorry, my “basang,” for being so blind and selfish. I am writing this for you. I know you will not like it because you have kept yourself and your activities private but give me this chance to thank you and the people who love us; how strong you are, but you are human too. You are broken, you are in pain, and you are grieving.

 I am letting go of my grief to give way to yours. You are experiencing emotional turmoil and despair, a normal feeling because you miss your papa’s advice, support, help, knowledge, and counseling, especially in your work. I will not tell you that it will soon pass because I do not know how “soon” is “soon.” I can only assure you that it will pass, and I know it will not be long because we have the Lord to see us through. I cannot compare my grief to yours; yours is different. I cannot and will not tell you that my pain from the loss of your papa is greater than yours (just as I told you before). I cannot agree or disagree. It is not a matter of who you lost that is important, but the degree and intensity of the relationship you have with the person but  we  know that the loss of a loved one, specifically a spouse or a parent, is one of the most emotional and universal human experiences. 

I grieved for your “tatang” and “nanang” and your papa, and seeing you express the grief that you withheld from us is another blow to my healing, but I am stronger now, stronger than you are. For the longest time, I thought I was the only one grieving, but you are better at faking it than I am. I am here, we are here, and the support that we had in the early days of your papa’s passing is still here with us. 

What you are feeling now is normal. You are experiencing various contradictory emotions, anger for being left alone, sadness, numbness, anxiety, and regret. It is normal to throw yourself into work and withdraw from activities and friends, just like what I went through. It is not yet too late. You are strong and stronger, too- you see, you are alone there now, but God is keeping you. There is only one request I ask of you, cry, weep if you can, and pray. God is our comfort and our refuge. Just as God loves the widows, He also loves the fatherless. 

“A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling.” — Psalm 68:5

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Surviving Grief 

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I can hear Christmas carols being played all over. People are finalizing their list of activities for the Christmas celebration and our second holiday without my husband. I am better compared to last year. Back then, I could not recognize the coolness, the festivities, and the love and support of the people who surrounded us. I praise and thank God for surviving grief; however, it does not mean that I no longer feel those familiar and unwanted pangs of grief, like sobbing and wailing, and every moment I am hurting, I am healing. I can better see that each painful episode and expression of sorrow and hurt is healing and is helping me grow stronger in faith. These people who are now with us again for the second holiday did not push me through but allowed me to absorb, adjust and accept the reality of grief.


I am bravely stepping out of my emotionally protective cloud into a reality that I can no longer touch, talk with my husband and see him enter through our door. He will never be with us on special occasions like birthdays and anniversaries, and even though he has a photo in every corner of our house, he will never be there. The empty chair will always be empty, and there will only be the 3 of us now. This still breaks my heart, even if he is forever in my heart.


Grief, I learned, is not something you complete, but rather, you endure. Grief is not a task to finish. You are hurt, but you should not give up; it will never be like it was, but there are new journeys ahead. Please do not count on others to do the healing for you; it is personal, and sometimes, some people complicate the healing process more than alleviate it. I learned to let go of them slowly and work my heart to forgive them, and it takes so much humility to do that by God’s grace. I am surviving the person I lost. I learned to lean on God. 


I have always questioned God, why not me, and why there is COVID in the first place, and after two years, everything seemed back to normal. These questions and much more remained unanswered, but the grief journey led me to understand God and loss better. Although I still have struggles, I have talked to God about them and asked for forgiveness. I have also come to fully grasp that our body is just a cover that can be torn and wounded and needed to be dressed to our soul. This body will eventually wear out, broken and beyond repair, and return to dust, and the soul will be returned to its owner, but until then without painful loss, there will be no joyful reunion.  


I am passing through this journey by looking and praying for hope and joy and peace that passes all understanding while exercising my faith like no other time in my life, and by God’s grace gives me that comfort that allows this acceptance to grow. 


I will have to trust in Him, His heart. He knew better, and I have to rest assured that my darling husband is no longer here to suffer further in this complicated and sinful world, as he always says. When my time comes, I will no longer suffer, too, but until then, I will continue to work through this maze called the healing process and to actualize God’s purpose for me and his legacy to the people in bonds and to the people he loved.


To my darling in heaven, as we spend the holidays here on earth without you, please remember that we always hold your memories close together as we gather and celebrate the birth of our Lord, who is with you now. I miss you very much. Agapi mou s’agapo.

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Recognition of Our “New Normal”

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         ” You will get better with time”; this is what we have been hearing from many people. It sounded so true. The first year of loss wired my heart and brain to be accustomed to a world without my husband. It allowed me to find a different way to adjust and continue to live productively. It took away some of the shock and unbearable pain that shattered my life. During the first year, we learned of the people who left us immediately after our loss, after we brought my husband’s remains to rest. We also learned of those who gave up on us while we were in the midst of the storm struggling to get out, and we learned to let go of these people that have been holding us back.  We also learned of the people who stood by us, from a distance with random hi’s and hello’s. What is surprising is that most of these people were those we had never met or was just an acquaintance. They are the ones we never hugged, shook hands with, nor looked into their eyes but have touched our souls. We may have lost a lot of support, but we gained more.

        As we continue our journey, we find solace in God through these people. We praise and thank God for them. They are still with us and have not forgotten. We are progressing and slowly moving toward the healing process and believe that year two is easier and indeed better. But does it really get better and easier with time, or just like the first year, we need to come to terms with accepting that our life will not be the same anymore and we are entering into our “new normal.”

     Grief still cripples me; I appear to be strong outside. It takes me bravery every morning when I smile at people when I am actually crying inside. To engage in conversations with others only to regret it in the end. I became less patient and gentle with myself. I burn myself out to work hard. Self-doubt, self-judgment, and expectations kick in without showing it to people. I appear confident, but in reality, I am not. I was not me anymore. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the spelling of my name. I became a stranger in my own life and struggled with my identity.

I am going through the painful process of searching for new dreams, goals, and aspirations in life. It is guessing what I know about myself because I have depended on my husband’s affirmations and denials. Our life was molded together, and I had to re-learn all my likes, fears, and hobbies. It is finding who I am without him.  It is feeling sad even when I am happy and looking back while I move forward. It is fighting every emotion and, at the same time, trying to function in life. Losing him changed the way I see things and priorities in life. This constant ache is transforming me into an entirely different person, and nothing will ever be the way it was before. The level of comfort I have will not happen again, although it may not be as before, even if people think and see that nothing has changed.

       I am left with no choice but to accept our new normal. After 25 years of doing things together, I would have to stand as a mother and father for my children and become their wings. Married people do not understand this, for they still have the person to do that for them. They still have the person to fetch and carry their baggage for them. To check for the vehicle if there are repairs to be done, to have somebody to call when they have a difficult day or good news to tell. For us, the house we lived in together no longer feels like home; we have to leave it for a while untouched because we cannot handle the memories we have with it, and we are left with nowhere to go when vacation time comes.

       Our life will never be the same again, but we will get through it. We are slowly learning how to deal with it. The grieving process is just a transition into our new life; by God’s enabling grace, we were able to go through the “lasts” and “firsts.” The lasts by going and looking back to our memories-letters, photos, and videos and even making videos out of them: the firsts- his birthday, our anniversary, holidays. We will cherish all of it deep within the chambers of our hearts. The pain will always linger. It reminds us of how we are loved, and we are loved back  and how he left this earth. I am prepared to endure, for God has provided me with the resiliency and capability to absorb such enormous pain, and no matter how much time passes, I have God’s confidence that I will be ok, and it will allow my faith to shine through.

     To my darling in heaven, I promise to get out of this storm, to find new meaning and purpose, and to live and continue the legacy you have left behind- in due time, by God’s grace.

 

 

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Going through Grief to Grow in Grace with God

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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.

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Peace & Quietness

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For almost a month, I stayed silent from my grief on social media and to people I saw and met. They see a “stronger” version of me and believe that I have gone past my grief. I often talk and interact as much as I can with them during the day and between my online classes while doing some administrative job. Daytime is more manageable because I keep myself busy and preoccupied to keep up with the goals I set. I was able to control my emotions and avoid the triggers. There were only a few occasions that I could not hold on to it, but I was ok immediately after. Only my son knew that grief begins to flood without any warning until the day ends when I am home. Nobody to wait to, to talk to with the affairs of the day. The silence is deafening. What I want to do is cry. Sometimes I don’t already know if the tears I cry are for my husband or myself because I must now live without him, but one thing is sure, I miss him so much. I try to shy away from my son not to affect him. Still, sometimes he is quick to respond by just looking at me as if he is reminding me that he is still alive and my husband is looking and watching over us.

My children always wanted people to come and see me and ask them to keep communicating even though they have nothing to share; they want people to be with me. They supported me in all the things I wanted and planned to do, even if I ended up not finishing at all. All they wanted was to keep myself occupied and not give in for any room for grief. This is the reason why I try to appear strong and hide my grief, but they know I am not because when the night is closing in when everything is silent, and all you can hear are the buzzing sounds of cars that are passing through until the wee hours of the morning. The pillow takes on my sorrow and my solace as I stare at the blank wall. The loneliness I feel is unbearable until I find myself to sleep.

It will be my darling’s 1st birthday in heaven in a few days. His life here on earth began 53 years ago. At 17, he became a Christian. I was a witness of his love, dedication, and faithfulness to God for 34 years. Personally, and intimately, I saw him “perdure” in the ministry for almost 12 years since he resigned from his lucrative job. I never saw him complain, but I saw his disappointments, frustrations, and struggles, especially towards the end of his life. He wanted to serve God more. He said he still has much work to do, which is one reason I am grieving. It should have been me instead… In a few days, he should be 54 years and looking back, 53 years ago, there stood a man, with the material things of this world that he can get, left all and preached the Word of God to the “despised & neglected” and to people, he met- because it is his highest calling and his greatest passion. He knows how honored I am to be his wife and my children to be their papa. We were not the “showy” personality type. People never saw us show any PDA (Public Display of Affection). In social media, people can only count our message of affection to each other and our family but, within the confines of our home, the four walls can attest to this love and respect we have for each other and our family. In fact,  If he is here, I am sure that he will not approve of the publicity that I am doing in his honor; that is why I still keep my post private to friends only and my writing with anonymity including the one that is due to be published in an International Christian organization after getting approved.

I must say, over time, I am getting better. I was not hurting as I used to. There are still many tears. I am still broken. This feeling has already become part of me, and I have grown used to it. Humanly speaking. I know that the one I lost is the only one that can repair the brokenness and heal the wound, and I am aware it is mission impossible. Only God can fill this void and loss through His infinite grace and mercy in my life. I feel pain. I wouldn’t say I like for this pain to stop completely. I am learning to grow through pain, and I become stronger. This pain allows me to adjust and find a different way to live, and I can continue living productively. It is a reminder of my total dependence on God, and I do not want to be slack on it. 

I have been candid in this journal. Although better, I still cannot accept my new title as a “widow,” my new identity. It’s still so hard to admit that I am no longer married, being called “my wife, my mahal,” and I’m not going to lie – there is an identity crisis. This is a realization that I need to address, we rarely get to choose our circumstances, but we decide whether to react or respond to these circumstances. I don’t exactly know what God’s plan is for me yet. But I know I need to get up and get going not for myself but my children and keep and continue on my husband’s desire, to serve God and help people, especially the people in the “bonds” and missionaries and pastors in the far-flung areas, those away from the city. I do not know how this can be done, but by God’s leading, He will reveal it in due time. Meantime, I am taking my baby steps and allowing the Lord to use me through the Church.

This journal is very helpful. This is where I reveal my innermost self. The pen is very obedient to whatever I write and powerful because it has helped me release the overwhelming emotions I have without the guilt of burdening the person to hear of my heartaches. With my first article on the grief journey already due for publishing, I hope that people who read it understand what we are going through. The article is not just for the grievers but also for those who “think” and believe that they are helping in our grief.

I cannot say I am already ok. My progress is very slow as I am already in my 10th month. As a former pastor’s wife, I should have overcome this grief with all the support I get from all over, but I am learning not to mind this thought because we all grieve differently. It is not a competition in whoever recovers from grief the fastest wins and will be awarded the one with the most faith. 

To my darling in heaven, memories of you doing what you love to do and making sure that you’re living and doing the best for our God provide comfort to my fragile heart. We may not be together now and will never have a chance to be together in this life, but thinking of you looking down on our children and me, sharing the same sky, somehow brings me peace and quietness. Somewhere over the rainbow, higher than the eagles reach, you exist and live. I miss you very much. Agapi mou s’agapo.

The Uniqueness of Grief

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The loneliness…the memories… the I love you’s and the I miss you… I will never get tired of saying.

It is already the middle of the first month of the year. I survived the first day, the many “firsts” after 25 years. The first without my husband’s warm embrace as we watched the fireworks display in our home in the city, the first that we did not welcome the year there, the first that I stayed indoors, skipping the celebration, I deliberately slept through the night. I was hesitant to move into the new year, knowing that my husband would never be part of the year. Our calendar at home was left untouched since his passing, and I do not have plans to turn over the leaf, not yet. Not just yet, as I am not yet done with the “lasts.”

Well-meaning people already see me strong, even stronger than I used to. They mean well. I appreciate how they encourage me to continue and keep on; I do this because I need to get up every day. It is not because I want to, but it’s because I have to. I am still alive and can use this life to serve God and not waste it. I know my husband would trade his place with me to serve Him. For me, at this point in my life, it is easier said than done, I do not have my husband’s faith,  dedication, and strength of character not to give up no matter what life throws at him, especially when his ministry for the Lord is put to the test. I easily give up and throw in the towel and say goodbye. He was my support; he was frank in his opinions of me, to the extent of telling me to keep my hidden talents hidden, laughs, and continues to say to me because it is where it belongs-hidden. He was very straightforward and not a sweet-talker and when it comes to the things for and of  God, he gives his piece with all honesty and sincerity that hits us hard to the extent of sometimes asking us of our convictions. He holds no thread of holding back his words and backs it up with the scriptures.

Throughout the months that passed by, I began to master the art of hiding my emotions, especially from my children. Our relationship suffered greatly during the last few months, especially when we moved “again” in less than a year. I became very impatient and shouted at them for petty things. My daughter learned how to “shout” back at me, and I know that she is also hurting. She wants me to put the pieces of my life back together, to hold on, and not to let go because they still need me. The turning point was when she asked me, ” saan kami pupulutin mama kung wala ka na? hindi mo ba kami mahal? si papa lang ba ang mahal mo?”

As of this writing, my daughter is not with us. She no longer works from home. She has to go back to her lodging place in another town. As we talk each night, she tells me of her struggle adjusting to her new role as a team leader with the unprecedented 2-step promotion at such a young age. I have to encourage her that she needs to be strong by God’s grace, not to be intimidated, and apply her “controlling” behavior towards me to her people. I told her how she is inspiring me to be strong and accept my weakness with the loss of her papa. She said she is doing this for her papa, and if only he is still here, he could have been the proudest father; her daughter is growing and maturing and living up to what he is expecting her to be, our family’s “flag-bearer.”

We are already aware of her pending 1-step promotion, but this promotion is put on hold because of the pandemic. My husband already knew, and we can still remember how happy and proud he was of her, and with the added step promotion, he could have been prouder. My husband was her adviser, and they clicked; they understood each other, probably because they are graduates of almost similar fields. My daughter looked up to him and had a big influence in her life, especially in her decision making. They enjoy each other’s exchange of thoughts, especially when they talk about engineering stuff and even brag against each other’s know-how. Unconsciously, my daughter excelled in power plant engineering course where her papa was also good at during his college days. She could not hide her tears when she saw her name finally posted in their organizational chart and told us this promotion was dedicated to his papa. She kept wishing and hoping that he was still here to guide and provide advice in all her decision-making at work.

My daughter is coping graciously in her grief; she always tells me that she cannot feel that her papa is gone. She always thinks that he is just with us, which keeps her from grief. My son is also slowly going back to his feet after struggling with his studies. This is why I need to show strength and hide my grief. My children’s grief is different from mine. While many studies were made regarding this topic, it remains complicated as it varies from person to person, thus difficult to understand. Nobody can tell or dictate to a person how to grieve. It is a personal experience. It has many faces and affects people differently; that is why I cannot blame people for not wanting to talk to me or vice versa. This realization helped me process my grief slowly.

I used to expect people to understand or stand by me, but they could not. I have been in many grief groups, and that is where I finally found my place, and my reactions and response to grief are normal. Grief is closely entwined to our memory; it needs to be acknowledged. Memories that bring our loved ones to life by their remembrance, we love to talk and listen to other people talk about them. This will strengthen our bond with our loved ones and sustain the comfort we need. I also realized that aside from grief having no set time frame. It doesn’t end.

Moving forward does not mean grief will disappear. It will never be. It will just change its form, but it will continue to exist. Accepting this as a permanent part of your life is the first step in surviving its company. We will all get to experience living and dying, loving and losing in this world. This is what Jesus experienced, and having experienced this, he is very much capable of carrying us through. I am still grieving; people don’t see me when I sleep at night hugging my “husband,” as I long for his presence. People don’t see the me, who carries him around the house and speaks to him as if he is still here and in the wee hours in the morning where I wake -up every hour until I finally get up and begin a new day.

This journal is serving its purpose of relieving me of the multitudes of emotion. This journal practically takes the place of people, that instead of them listening to my long-playing stories, which in the end, leave them heavy-hearted because they do not know what to say. I am completely honest in this journal. I can say I am tired and exhausted without hiding anything. It is an acknowledgment that I don’t feel great yet; I am still tossed to and fro, and I can avoid hearing any judgment from people, especially the “holy” ones who believe I should have moved on because it’s been a long time already and I have God with me.

I grieve because I miss the person I loved and lived with for more than half of my existence, and only those who are in my shoes will ever understand. This journal exposed my grief, with the wound it created. It  was very raw at the beginning, when I barely acknowledged God’s goodness and slowly, very slowly, the wound is no longer raw as they were once. I began to trust God and witnessed how He is getting me through.

A tissue scar  is appearing, signifying it is healing, but from time to time, it opens, and when it does, I see God’s grace showing me glimpses of joy from my past to this present time with my family, friends, and church and as I allow Him to carry me. I am often weak, but I know it is ok with Him because He is strong.

To my darling in heaven, I miss you. I know I cannot do anything now. But I wish for this unbearable pain to stop every time I realize you are no longer here. The feeling of emptiness and the constant need to talk to you every day like we had for 25 years. But until then, I will celebrate your life for the remainder of mine and hope to finish well like what you had for God.

Job 5:11  “To set up on high those that be low; that those which mourn may be exalted to safety.”

 

A Different Kind of Strength

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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. 

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The Essence of Christmas and the “Empty” Chair

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The holiday season is getting hard for people like me who will celebrate the day for the first time with the loss of a loved one. I wish I could skip the  day, including the new year and other significant events in our family. Just listening to Christmas songs played in our church service for the first time brought me so many tears, and sometimes, I can feel a lump in my throat for every word coming out of the song and continuing as Christmas carols are being played on-air.

I conditioned my children not to celebrate the holiday and treat it like a normal day since the “ber” months arrived. But as the day drew near, my heart began to soften. My conviction was redirected to focus on the season’s real meaning when I saw my children hide their excitement. (They did not complain nor argue, but I could sense their sadness) Only then did I realize the significance of the day; it is a day of thanksgiving for God’s greatest gift – Jesus Christ, and my husband is now enjoying  this gift in heaven.  Christmas is not about me; it is for me – for all of us.

I have to stay grounded with this conviction, and I need to constantly remind myself that our lives and those we love here on earth are not ours to keep. This world is not permanent, and the Christ of Christmas provided us with a permanent home. He was born… to die.  Let us thank God that He shared their lives with us as they have been part of our journey, even for only a short time. Although brief, we became so close to them, and we feel that we could not continue that journey without them, but again, though painful, we need to accept (by God’s grace) and realize that not everyone is meant to stay in our lives forever. There is no such thing as forever in this life, and that forever is only beyond the sunset where our loved ones are waiting on the condition that we accept the gift of the holiday season, Jesus Christ.

For this reason, I will try to put aside my sorrow, and I will try to withhold my tears and concentrate on God’s love for us. The essence of Christmas is Jesus Christ. He is the reason for the season, the very reason and person why my husband wanted to live longer – to serve the Christ of Christmas.

The holiday is tough because I lost someone dear (who should be here with us during this important and most celebrated occasion); my heart is yearning for my husband’s presence and the thought of him just being here. (Added to the recent loss of my father, who is also dear to me).  It is not easy and not even okay. I don’t hold a grudge or ask for understanding.  People are telling me this experience gets better with time. I also thought it to be so because I know that I have improved over time but, today, I cannot say it is, but it is different- the randomness of grief.  I am still struggling with pain. Sometimes, the pain hurts too much that not even a single tear comes out from my eyes anymore, but most of the time, when it is also “too” much; I cry my heart out until tears run out that I can no longer pretend that I am hurt, and people can see straight through me.

As we celebrate the occasion in a few days, I will ask my sister’s family (with whom we are celebrating the holidays) to spare an empty chair and fill the void of our first Christmas without my husband and prepare his favorite food for the occasion.

We will celebrate God’s goodness as a family through my husband’s life.  I will try to laugh and be with the people who knew his smile and how he joked and teased them. I will try to appreciate and show concern to the people he loved (based on our quiet moments together where he openly poured out his heart and soul). In due time, by God’s enabling grace, include and reach out to the people he got disappointed and frustrated with and those he offended. My children are doing these things unknowingly, especially our daughter, who is developing to be like – her father. She is more objective, sets aside unwanted and undesirable emotion, and move forward. O, how my husband and I are so blessed to have them, especially how they keep his legacy unstained and support me with my desire to continue with what he started.

“To my darling in heaven, I wish I could literally send a letter to you. Inside is a message full of beautiful things about us, our children, your love, life, and the people who love you, and, more importantly, your work for the Lord that is continuing.  But until then, I will hold and keep you in my heart, and there you will stay so I can move forward with you until I can hold you again somewhere over the rainbow.  Merry Christmas, from this side of the world,  I can only wish and dream that you are here with us or I am with you this very day. ‘Missing you very much.” Agapi mou s’agapo.

This is my journey to healing

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