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Yesterday and tomorrow and the “We” to “I”

“There are two days you should never spend a lot of time thinking about: yesterday and tomorrow. Many of us are crucified with two thieves. On the right is yesterday, and on the left is tomorrow” (Tony Evans)

I never imagined myself to be a widow at 50, and we just celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary just a month earlier. 25 at 50, two celebrated milestone years, both numbers broke my heart instantly. What seemed to be blessed numbers turned out to be the numbers I want to forget.

Grief is a lonely, difficult thing to endure. In her book, The Path to Loneliness, Elisabeth Elliott said, “Loneliness in widowhood is a kind of death. we can see it as simultaneous exit and entrance, an exit from the comforts and consolations of having a husband, and an entrance into the strange world of having to make unilateral decisions again and to learn to say ‘I’ instead of ‘we’.”

My husband and I looked forward to growing old and serving the Lord together, our future, our “we” together; we have plans already for this year as another school year is about to start. Most of these plan lets go of my desires and choices and the security of our “financial” future, so as not to depend on our children’s support. My husband had this faith that the Lord would take care of us, just as He did when he resigned from his lucrative job to minister to the prison. I was looking forward to it too. We prepared our children for what to expect, but plans for our future were erased in an instant, our life changed irreversibly, we did not choose this change; I did not want this change. My children and “I” are facing the loss of a one-of-a-kind father and husband. We grieve the person we lost and the many “nevers” that go with missing the person. These “nevers” that hurt, the never another call, never another “I love you mahal or darling,” never another smile, never another hug and never seeing your face again and the should haves and would haves of the future.

What many do not understand is that all were taken from my children and me; that is why it is difficult to move forward. (It takes time and faith and brings me to my knees every day). The one-time-all time loss hit me hard. We cannot recover anything except the memories left behind, and these memories become more trying and challenging. The more memories, the harder it becomes, but they provide me comfort and peace.

I hoard, preserve and recover all my husband’s memories as I can because there will be no more new ones to create. This journal is a memory of my husband; I know this is not beautifully made, just like his life, but it holds his memory in a tangible, more visible, and realistic form that even when I leave this world, my children’s children have something to look back. His other memories are in my heart; it is safe, I do not want to lose it, and it is my way of holding on. Nobody can tarnish, touch, and question these memories, good or bad, because when you love someone for who they truly are, accept them, and everything else becomes beautiful.

Grief is born when someone you love passes away – and as long as that person is loved– grief will stay. I learned that “You will never completely get over the loss of a loved one because you loved the person.” The fact that the loss is so difficult to accept is proof of this love. People often tell others who are grieving to get over it, but why would you get over the loss of someone who has meant the world to you? The grief will not be better, but it will change, the feeling will be different, it will still hurt, but I know it will not consume me, although I am expecting that there will be moments that it does.

Grief is the price of loving someone so deeply. The deeper the love, the deeper the pain. We live in a broken world where life is not fair, and suffering on earth is just a guarantee. We are all born to die. Nobody is exempt from this. It is the price of our sinful nature. Knowing this made me understand love better than I used to; it is more than just a feeling that changes according to your mood. You will learn how beautiful love is – let alone life! as Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, God …He hath made everything beautiful in his time: also, he hath set the world in their heart… “ And losing a loved one is a painful reminder that life is way too short.

“For the LORD will not cast off for ever: but though he causes grief, yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies. For he doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men.” Lamentations 3:31-33

My children, my biggest support system

By Walking Through the Storms

"Going through grief is like going through a tunnel. The bad news is the tunnel is dark. The good news is that once you enter into that tunnel, you are already on your way out." (Through a season of grief, Bill Dunn & Kathy Leonard).

Topics on grief as a tunnel have been in and out of the pages of the readings that I have been through, except that the tunnel is not only dark, but it is also rough, and stumbling blocks are everywhere. This is what makes grief more difficult. Until now, I cannot fully accept that my husband is gone. I was told that I would imagine him to be out in another country and never return to ease the pain or accept that his time is up and he already served his purpose in this life according to God’s plan, which I must and should do. “My heart needs more time to accept what my mind already knows.” I must admit that I cannot go through the dark and rough tunnel alone, I need help, and that help can only come from God, who I have been wrestling with.

I used to be a confident, strong person, as people would describe me, and I realized that my husband made me feel confident and strong because he believed in me. He cheered on me every time I cast doubts on what I do, especially my decisions towards work and my students, and more importantly, he kept reminding me to pray. (This is one thing we will never forget of him. He always tells us to pray before we make a decision, even in simple things) and when we lost him, everything turned around, and after my real encounter with my children, I need to get up. It will be difficult to be strong without my husband, but I need to; I have no choice but to endure the pain to bring them to my fold and protect them just as my darling protected us, our safety net here. We are now vulnerable to all kinds of harm- physically, at least humanly speaking; with him around, we were assured that no bad people could harm us; he is going to “fight for us,” which he did until his last days.

I have always been on my knees and always keep in mind that the Lord is there, I have given up on life already, and I am ready if He is going to take me home too. But, I am afraid that I am way ahead of Him as I am also scared for my children. The devil can also take advantage of my vulnerability to trouble my wounded soul further.

My children are my inspiration now. They are my biggest support system throughout this journey. I truly appreciate how they patiently take care of me, hug and weep, and remind me of good memories of their papa and validates that their papa loves me very much. They saw how their papa took the first steps to woo me back when we have disagreements, which is not typical of him and his personality. Added to that, they know how poetic he is reading from our love letters. They are first-hand witnesses of the negative emotions like denial, loneliness, rejection, confusion, helplessness, anxiety, disappointment, anger, sadness, resentment, inadequacy, vindictiveness, depression, pain, loss, anguish, dismay, sorrow, abandonment, apathy, distrust, lack of control and positive emotions of laughter, hope, faith in between. They were able to endure these “explosive” emotions and are continuing. I am beginning to see their hardship and bravery to keep me going. My darling indeed, true to his word, “Many of us may not have possessions for our children to inherit. The best inheritance that we could give them is a godly inheritance.”

CS Lewis, in his book, A Grief Observed, clearly summarize this experience, “Grief is like a bomber round and dropping its bombs each time the circle brings it overhead; physical pain is like the steady barrage on a trench in World War One, hours of it with no let-up for a moment. Thought is never static; pain often is.”

Many people wanted me to rejoin life again just what I used to, to pick up the broken pieces, the small, sharp edges that hurt the most. It will be a long hard journey to healing, and I am willing to go through it even if it is painful because the empty space that occupied an entire part of my being is from someone who loved me beautifully. My darling is God’s greatest blessing to me; many people never get the experience of loving and being loved back by someone that much.

I know my love for him will move right along with me, into the life we have built and continue to grow become my motivation to move forward. How I long for that day that my darling will be looking down on me with approval and confidence that I will be able handle necessary things here until it is my time to depart.

“How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?” (Psalm 13:2).

Asking for Signs

By Walking Through the Storms

“Acknowledge the need for God, inform and express the pain, and that the feelings are valid. We must not allow the pain to cover the goodness of His character.”

My faith was tested in the days that followed after our soul-searching meeting. I have nowhere to run to but to God. My devotional readings and prayers challenged my troubled heart. I always pray for comfort and peace and ask Him to tell my darling that I love him and I miss him very much, added to my usual expression of pain and loneliness that I am going through. I also asked for signs because I never felt him since and as if he just existed and left. I envied those who dreamt of him or even “imagined that they felt him.” I wanted to hear his voice, smell, and feel his warmth, even just in dreams, the most likely place where I can connect, a place between goodnight and good morning.

I finally dreamed of my husband two to three days after. As a Christian, I know that dreams are things of the past, and God no longer works through them. I am aware that my dream is due to my emotional stress and overly stimulated mind, but somehow, I was relieved to have finally felt my husband even in my dreams, and it comforted me. I am being led to believe that God saw my misery, and He did not forget me despite my unfaithfulness. I had random dreams about him in the following days, but I cannot remember the dream. I find myself waking and thinking about what was in there, but to no avail; it was empty. I wanted more, and I am still looking for small “miracle signs” like the “orchids” we have at home to help guide and comfort me because I believe that the continuing bond we have does not end.

I slowly got up my feet in the days that followed, one foot forward, 2-3 feet backward. I cannot look far ahead. I need to go through the day, and thank God I did and think again tomorrow; I couldn’t plan things for two days earlier because it will change abruptly. I find that simple decision-making paralyzes and drains; I often snap and change my mood in a split second. (One of the reasons I don’t like to meet people is because I might hurt them unintentionally) I can tell people how I feel, but I cannot even recognize my feelings.

Every day is different, and that is what I have to deal with. The emptiness and longingness to feel the presence of my husband is filled with unique pain. Most of the time, I cry for him, but sometimes, I try to hold my head up high because that is what I know he wants me to do. I need to accept that his time here is over, and this hurts, and I don’t like it, but what else can I do? I need to be strong and brave, primarily for my children, who used to be strong but are now beginning to feel the absence of their papa. I need to trust God and cling to Him because, after all, He is our comfort in sorrow. He absorbs the sting of death because He already paid the price.

I know that I will change and grow from this experience; I do not move on from it but move forward with it because my darling was, is, and will still be part of my future. He will be my motivation to go through struggles, hard work, act without fear, and smile through pain as I watch our children that he left behind grow and mature and become independent on their own. I know it will not be long because they are now quickly maturing due to this experience. If that time comes and they will face the world without me and rejoin their papa in heaven, the love and the godly inheritance (love, faith, and hope) left by my darling will be enough if tomorrow will never come.

“Let thy mercy, O LORD, be upon us, according as we hope in thee.” Psalm 33:22

A Hermit in a Civilized World

By Walking Through the Storms

“Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.” (Psalm 46:10)

My world turned upside down when my darling passed away. I never imagined all the heartaches that would devour my heart. The darkness of grief was unbearable. That is why I wanted it to end. The world I once knew became a memory. I never felt the joy I had before with my husband.

My journey became more and more trying as time pass by; every day was a struggle; my children and I went and stayed in the province for more than a month to take a breather from our loss. My sister and her family, who lovingly welcomed us to their home, witnessed the worst part of my grieving. They saw me talk all by myself while looking at the sky as if I was talking to him. (He loves the view of the sky, his mobile phone is full of it). Odd because people will mistake me for being crazy. They wept with me in silence. At one point, my sister courageously asked me what I want, and I told her I want my husband back, and she said in surrender, they cannot do anything as God only has the power to raise the dead.

The first two weeks were the saddest, the days that I felt empty and lost a reason for living. I was like a hermit in a civilized world. I lost track of time and forgot to take care of myself. From sunrise to sunset, I stayed motionless in the corner of the house to the extent of developing edema. I felt a heavyweight in my chest that I have no desire to move and speak. All I want is for the night to come so I can close my eyes and sleep. I also had some “blood” issues, which I am not supposed to have. Grief taught me to be unsanitary. My daughter patiently took care of me as if I am a newborn babe, preparing my food, clothes, and the extent of wanting to bathe me.

I was different, and I cannot recognize myself. I lost my self-esteem. I was not the same person everyone knew me before. The turning point happened when my children finally got the courage to talk to me. Filled with sympathy, agony, and anger, they told me that I was not the only one who lost a loved one; they also lost a father that they love. They also said that I still have them, and they cannot afford to lose me. With my indifference, I told them that the love between a spouse and children is incomparable, and If it is “my will,” I want to follow their papa also. Anyway, they are grown-ups already, and they can take care of themselves. In pain, they said, we all might as well “die together.” At the end of the confrontation, my sister talked to me. She told me that I am blessed to have wonderful, loving, and responsible children and they don’t deserve the treatment they get from me, and I don’t deserve the treatment they are doing to me.

Grief is selfish. I failed to see my children grieve and suffer. Now, I know that they hurt, but they are surviving. They told me that they are trying to be strong because they knew how much I love their papa. They use the word “marupok si mama pagdating kay papa,” I must admit that I have difficulty grieving because my husband completed me; I only feel that I am just a half-person now. My children and I had series of soul-searching together in the days that followed. I have to acknowledge that I need God, and I have to inform him of the pain. Although I know that he already knows, I need to express it; my feelings are valid, and I must not allow the pain to cover the goodness of His character. I must recognize that God, in His mercy, stands by silently as we agonize. He is simply waiting until we realize that we have nowhere to run but to Him.

When the Adrenaline Rush is Over

By Walking Through the Storms

I left the hospital that hot noonday in April alone, agitated, confused, and anxious. It was Sunday; the “remains” of my darling is now in the church, his “first” Sunday. I was told to have five more quarantine days despite the negative COVID19 result, which should have been seven days, but I already served at least 1 ½ days waiting; it was the longest wait ever. My daughter, who arrived a day earlier from another city, was also told to do the same, despite also a negative COVID19 result, and worst, we were advised that we should not be together. My son is also separated from us as he is in an isolation facility. These conditions became more painful to us as we grieve together virtually for days. However, I thought these days were the most painful, but I was wrong. I was not prepared for more.

The most challenging time for the grievers is not the hour or days from the passing of their loved ones. The suppression and alleviation of the pain can be attributed to high adrenaline levels in response to stress and the immediate state of shock. These are the days where many people rush in to show support to the grievers, but the grievers need more help in the days and weeks, and months ahead. Their hard work begins after the service is over, the affairs settled, and the reality of the depth of loss is starting to sink. But sadly, these are times that most people have already gone back to normal and have “forgotten.”

“The immediate support that you get from the loss of a loved one is like having a newborn baby. Everyone is there at the beginning, but when the real hard time comes, you are all alone.”

I learned of this already when I heard a lovely Christian widow a few years back who testified about this reality. She talked about people coming to her house become scarce and eventually stopped once his husband’s body was laid to rest, and she felt alone and lonely. She finally reached out to her friend and found out that her friend also passed away…

It saddens me that I have to experience its truthfulness. Many people were quick to show support, but a lot of them also fade away quickly. What is even worst is the ones who left were the people you expected to stay. I cannot blame them, though because, it is their choice. I have no control over it; I can only assume that perhaps they care, but they want to get on with their lives, not willing to be affected, or it may be too painful for them to remember. This form of “avoiding” is most painful to the griever because the grievers are “rememberers.”

The biggest lesson I learned from this is to appreciate and thank the people who check on you even if they don’t understand. What is important is, you know that they are there, they hear you, and you hear your voice. This brings some normality and breaks some of the emotions that are tearing your soul (especially in your silence).

I want to thank those few who stayed with me until today, to my “weeping partners,” for the tears, pain, hurt, and desperation shared, for accepting my vulnerabilities, when I am bitter or angry and sorrowful. Thank you for giving me that room to grieve, for comforting me and allowing me to know that “I am hurt, and you care that I am hurting” and to those who are perjuring, those who are not giving up and waits for me to step out of my silence and isolation.

I know I am still blessed and the Lord is slowly working with me through you.

The Limitation of the Human Mind

By Walking Through the Storms

In the early days of my grief, I met God amid all the support I received; I asked Him why? I know that He was there when the medical staff was reviving my husband. I can feel all the prayers spoken for him (that is why I never said goodbye). I was so full of faith and hope; he wanted to live; he fought for his life because I know deep within, he was thinking of God’s unfinished works and plans through the church and us. But I saw tears rolled from his eyes, as if he is telling me, I am sorry.

I am well aware that we do not have the right to question God but human as we are; with my world crushed and crumbled and my heart torn into pieces, I cannot help it, and I have to admit, I found God to be distant and I never found comfort no matter how hard I try to reach out to Him. I put on a different mask during the wake, appearing as if I am ok. I still had the strength to have a hand on the program and how amazing I was able to pull it off until the inurnment.

CS Lewis, a person, grounded in faith and committed to God in his book, A Grief, observed, also felt abandoned by God and addressed the common thought or experience of those struggling in grief. Job and David in the Bible also met and “complained” to God in their trouble, and God still allowed them to endure pain in their own time. These godly men were not exempted from presenting their case to God. How much more to us in today’s generation?

My reading of Isaiah 55: 8-9 reminded me that God’s thoughts and ways are higher, just as heaven is higher than the earth. I know this is an answer to my why, and no matter how much I try to understand, I will not be able to. My human mind can only know that we all die, but as to why my husband, who can still be used for Him, can only be answered when we meet face to face. Since his passing, I find heaven very real and more beautiful now than before. I find comfort that I will be meeting him there. I can only wish it to be sooner, so I can let go of this unbearable pain.

Grievers want to be heard not to be told

By Walking Through the Storms

The topic of grief dominated my Facebook account last month. I knew many people are not comfortable with it. It could be because they want to move on, forget, or may have regrets or could be a reminder of their mortality that one day, they too will lose their spouse or uninterested. It is this reason why this page is born. I do not want to suffer and grieve in silence and isolation anymore. It crushes and pounds the heart. I want to be heard, not to be told, and I know that the pen has a voice, and the paper listens.

People are quick to tell the griever to stay positive, be happy, there is hope at the end of the line, or on the other hand, “you lack faith,” “Stop the crying and move on,” “there is nothing else you can do.”, while their intentions are good and authentic, these words will not help. Grievers are forced to embrace “toxic” positivity, suppress their emotions, hold back their tears, show their “strength,” but deep within, they are actually feeling another death from this. The most comforting words at this point would be “no words” or simply praying for you. “No words” doesn’t mean you avoid them, They want to feel your presence and be heard, and at the same time, they want to be silent. This is what makes grief complicated. Do not push them to hide, fix or silence their pains. Do not be threatened by their unpredictable emotions; they cry, yell, laugh, and sink into sadness; understand that they are very vulnerable, choose to stand with them in the place they did not choose. These are way deeper than words.

Please do not question their faith as God is patiently dealing with them in this journey. Do not rush them to heal. Allow them to grieve at their own pace; it is not a race that, the more mature, the higher the faith, the faster is the healing or recovery. The healing process is not a crash course where the learning curve is predictable, measurable, and time-bound. I believe that the length and depth of grief depend on the quality of the marriage you had. I had the best! My husband and I disagreed and fought for many things, but these disagreements made our relationship better and stronger at the end of the day because we learned to let go of our pride and personal preferences.

My Journey to Healing

By Walking Through the Storms

This journal is my very heart and soul..

”…and they lived happily ever after..” This phrase is what you and I can remember when we watch or read fairy tale stories during our younger years and O, how we dreamed of our Knight in shining armor!. These fairy tale stories led us to believe that there is such a thing as living and loving forever here in this world. Growing up, my love for reading love stories continued with the likes of Mills & Boons and Barbara Cartland (I give credit to her for the term Agapi mou’ s’agapo) to more passionate best-seller books of Danielle Steel. Reading these books stopped when my brother called my attention to read the Bible instead. But, reality check, my very own love story nor anybody’s love story will never be what we desire or want to be. This world, though beautifully (and perfectly) created, will leave us heartbroken, destroyed, and eventually die and will be buried, and this is the price we have to pay.

Twenty-five years (25), one (1) month, and twenty (20) days of wedding bliss, on top of nine (9) long years of engagement, at 50, I lost my darling husband to the dreaded COVID19; I was with him until his very last breath. Some say I am still blessed to be with him because others are not. They never saw their spouses until their final moments. (I was advised to say goodbye, but I was full of hope and faith with many people praying and claiming for God’s miracle.) As soon as he agreed to be intubated, the medical team came rushing through, and all I can say is I will see you later, darling.

My hands are trembling, and tears are flooding my eyes as I pen this journal. I realize that I am still ill-prepared to bare my whole heart and soul, especially when I think of my husband’s last days. The plans that we had, the “should have been, “and “would have been,” the “selfless” future we are supposed to have.

Nobody is equipped for the emotions that go with losing a loved one, let alone your husband whom you have so loved deeply and truly. The pain is indescribable; it is likened to a knife that cuts right through your heart. It is a ruthless master, and the grief the goes with it is exhausting; you are like fighting a lion, with its teeth and claws tearing you apart, and as you hold on fighting, your fingers slide off and find your hands empty. It is suffering at its “best” and “worst” that only those who have loved and lost can understand.

I am into my 3rd month of loss. Many people already expected me to have moved on forward because of my strong personality and strong faith in God. However, my posts on my Fb page prove that I am not because I am still struggling with words and thoughts that are not in, of, and for God. He is still dealing with me until this very day.

Walking Through the Storms

This is my journey to healing