The light in the darkness

Well, I have my first reason to like winter finally.  Ok, I lie - I love wearing boots (NOT snow boots), so that has been the only benefit I have found in it.  Until now.

Now, in the winter, while the leaves are absent from the trees, I can see the cross at Mount Lindo from my dining room window.  The cross that Brandon and I loved being able to see from our neighborhood.  The cross, which signifies the death of Jesus and the forgiveness of my sin.  And this particular cross, that my husband is buried next to.  It's bright light shines through the darkness, and into our home.  Just past the neighbor's satellite dish...

We had lived here since 2011, and never once did we notice that we could see it through the window.  But I noticed today.

It warms my heart indescribably to have discovered this.  It's as if Brandon is looking in on us.  I have taken such comfort in the cross shining over our neighborhood, but into our home in the grey of winter is even better.

I have already thought of asking the neighbors if I can cut down their trees so that I can see it in the summer, but quickly let go of that ridiculous idea.

Today I had the chance to pull into the park behind our house at dusk, as Aria was sleeping in her carseat and I did not want to wake her.  I have been wanting to try to catch the cross lighting up and took this as an opportunity to give it a try.

I sat there for about 5 minutes, just thinking and praying before I squinted trying to see if they indeed did just turn on.  The sky was still light, making it hard to see.  But as it gradually grew darker it became easier to confirm because the darkness illuminated the light.

Cross difficult to see in the light

I took a few pictures, but photos rarely do landscapes justice.  Seeing it first hand is the only way to truly experience it.

Today was also the Angelversary of a beautiful woman Brandon and I had the privilege to know, who one year ago, won her battle with cancer.  I remember we followed her and her family's journey through cancer and hospice in awe.  Their faith carried them through, praising God and trusting in His plan even in the darkest of days.  With children, the youngest a preschool aged daughter, I wondered how they could bare to find any peace in this terrible situation. I thought to myself that I could never have that kind of faith.  To continue to believe when everything is falling apart and life just isn't fair.

But like the cross lit in the daylight, sometimes our faith is also found in the darkness.

I'll be honest and say that prior to the recurrence of cancer, I was the farthest I had been from God since being saved almost 10 years ago.  I was allowing myself to be distracted with preparing for the baby, preparing for our dreams to come true.  I had mentioned this to a few friends, who lovingly reassured me that of course I was distracted, there was so much to do to get ready, it was totally normal.  I countered back a couple times with, "Yes, but what is more important then preparing my heart and my walk with God for a child?"  Yet, I did nothing but busy myself with painting, cleaning and nesting.  Our dreams were coming true...it was light out.

But like the cross on the hill, the love of God was easier to find in the darkness then any daylight of my life before.  I now could understand how that precious family clung to their faith and God's promises to them to get through.  For me there was no other way to find my way through the dark, but to seek the light.

Beautiful view of the cross at sunset 

Many people have told me that I have been an inspiration to them for the way I have walked through this with such grace and continue to trust God and love God in the valley of the shadow of death.  I don't know how to respond to this.  It is not my strength that has gotten me through, it is the strength of God.  All I can claim is allowing the Spirit of God to work in me.  That is it.

But until we experience suffering like this first hand, we often doubt the strength of our own faith.  I surely did.  And now, others are telling me that I have impacted them the same as that family impacted me.  It's quite a surreal experience.

I guess it's like being able to see the cross lit myself, yet a photo does not allow others to see that gentle illumination.   It takes our own eyes to see the strength of our own faith when tested in our own ultimate darkness.

Aria & I at the park
earlier in the day

But I found that in that darkness, God's light is easiest to see.

Right now, my faith is stronger then it has ever been before.  Maybe because I am in the greatest trial I have ever experienced before?  Like the saying, "Sometimes God lets you hit rock bottom, so you can discover that He is the rock at the bottom."

But I also know that I am human.  Just as the Jews doubted after Jesus parted the sea before their eyes, I know the strength of my faith will also ebb and flow.  But God knows that.  And I am forever thankful for His amazing grace, and always being that light in the darkness.

How to "be" around me - 4 months out

I have received such a positive response to my original post about what to do and what not to do around me in this stage of grief, that I thought enough has changed that another version would probably be helpful.  Grief changes, and those grieving change, as do their needs.

So here it goes:

What NOT to say or do around me:

-As for the harsh terms like: dead, dying, grave and such, I still don't use them much myself.  I don't feel like I got punched in the gut automatically when I hear them now as I did before, and can usually shake it off without much thought.  But it will probably be quite some time before I use such words as flippantly as I have before.

-Hugging me while I'm crying.  This will probably never change.  I know it is strange, Brandon thought so too.  However, I think this statement needed a little further explanation.  I still love to hug hello and goodbye.  A grasp of my hand is appreciated by me at tender moments, but locking me up in a hug is just not a comforting thing for me. But if you need to do something, simply grab me a tissue.  :)

What TO do or say around me:

-Don't be afraid to talk about Brandon.  Sharing memories, how you miss him or mentioning something he would have said or done keeps his memory alive for me.  Yes, I may get a little salty, but it's ok.  Don't feel bad.  Truthfully, the best gift one can give me is a story of him I haven't heard before, or a picture of him I haven't seen before.  It's like a new memory for me, and sadly those will be few and far between now.

-If something in your day reminds you of him, don't be afraid to share it with me.  Text, Facebook, email - whatever.  Knowing he is being thought of and remembered touches my heart more then you know.  One afternoon I received a text from a friend that on his way home from a ski trip he stopped by and visited Brandon at Mount Lindo, and it made my day.

-Tell me what is going on in your life.  Good, bad and ugly.  I still ask for others to be mindful of the severity of what is going on in mine, and use good judgement and perspective - but really, isn't that what we all would hope for from others?  But leave the drama at the door.  I just have no room for it right now.

-Know that I will usually put on a brave face for you.  If you want to know how I am really feeling, go ahead and ask me how I am really feeling.  Most know that I am an open book, but I have a hard time sharing my burdens without invitation, especially ones this heavy.  But I know that not every relationship is cut out to carry that weight, and I understand that, so don't feel like you have to.

-Continue to have patience with me.   This is a loooong process, and in actuality, will never be complete.  But it will be a while before I am capable of much other then surviving.  I can no longer multitask at all, my thoughts are gone before they were even fully formed and I walk around in a fog.

-If it's on your heart to do something, get ahold of me or someone close to me to help coordinate it.  Tell me what, and ask me when.  If left up to me to ask for help, even if previously offered (vaguely or specifically) - I likely will not be able to do it.  I have accepted so much help that I feel burdensome asking for more.  I have learned to say "yes" to help, but it is still very difficult to ask for.  (Written communication, text/email, is best)

-Help me capture some memories by taking a few photos or short videos of Aria and I, and whatever we all are doing together.  Now that it's just me, I rarely have any photos of us together, other then the dreaded selfie.  Just snap a few if the moment is right and send them to me.  It will be so appreciated.

-Share inspiring things with me.  A sermon, quote, image, scripture, song - whatever.  I literally have a list of mantras in my phone because reciting phrases like "One day at a time", and "The only way to do it is go through it" have been pivotal in getting through this.  I also have a list of scripture verses and songs.  (I should make a list of all my lists! lol)  A fellow widow sent me a CD of praise & worship songs that helped get her through this, and it has spoken to my heart in glorious ways.

I think that is about it.  I hope this is helpful?  Thank you, as always, for taking the time to walk this road with me.

7month / 4.5 month Update

Well, my little Aria is now 7 months old.  Yes, it has gone fast.

She is an active little one!  Very interactive and expressive.  Many people comment on how many faces she has.  She definitely gets that from me!  She is clapping, scooting around backwards on her belly and even scooted herself forward sitting up.  In no time she will be crawling....uh oh.....

She is eating some solid foods now, and has not yet become a picky eater.  We have enjoyed some playdates and lots of mall walking on evenings and weekends.  Oh how I can't wait for spring and summer and outdoor walks!  However, Colorado has been good to us this year so far with quite a few sunny days in the 50's or 60's.

Aria brings so much joy to everyone.  I wonder if someday she will look back on these posts and marvel at how just being a baby helped hurting hearts.

Brandon had asked me when on hospice if we had known this was going to happen this way, would I have still wanted to start a family?  I was taken aback by the question.  I thought for a moment before answering.  I told him I didn't know, and what was the point of examining the thought further, when it is what it is?  This was very difficult to say to him, because I wasn't able to give him the reassurance he was probably seeking, but he would have known if I tried to pacify him with what he wanted to hear.

I thought on that a lot that night.  I'm going to be very candid here, so bare with me.

Initially I thought, hell no.  Why would I choose to put myself into this predicament?  We knew we wanted to start a family back in 2011 when we made it into remission.  But we chose to wait until 1 year cancer free.  Then we still felt too unsure, and waited till 2 years cancer free just to feel more confident in Brandon's response to the treatment, so we could hopefully not be in this situation.

My greatest fear was exactly this.  Not many people choose to be a single parent.  Let alone someone who is widowed with active Lupus and in my financial situation.  I thought of how hard it was to find Brandon.  How hard we worked on our marriage, and how beautiful our relationship was.  If I come to a point in my life where I am looking for a relationship, not only will my standards be high because of Brandon, but add a child and the chances of finding someone good enough for me and my child?!  Psssh...good luck!  Then just add in thinking of all the details of life with a child and no partner to give you a hand.  Every choice, illness, bedtime, errand, all housework, yard work, homework, sports and school activities and such - on your own.  No live-in help.  No time for yourself.  Then add life altering grief as the cherry on top.  I would have been crazy to have thought this through, and signed on the dotted line.

Keep in mind, I'm being asked this as I'm sleep deprived from care taking for my 2 month old newborn and my dying 33 year old husband.  My world has been turned upside down.  No, just adding a baby turns one's world upside down, but the pieces settle. This...this was spinning out of control with no end in sight and I was utterly overwhelmed with fear.

Then I thought of how I would always have a piece of Brandon in Aria.  How she and I are now a team.  Loving her brings me joy and is indescribable by words.  I couldn't imagine not having her now that I have held her in my arms and call her mine.

The next afternoon, I sat down and told Brandon with honesty that I absolutely would not change the decisions we made.  The hope and relief that I heard in his voice when he said, "Really?" was worth every challenge I have and will face as a single mother.

But God.  He's a wise one.  He knows.  Would I change the decision we made?  Emphatically NO!  But, our choice to wait to start a family till we were further away from cancer says it all.  If we had known, we would not have started a family.

Again, but God.  He has a plan.  And it was for Aria to be here.  If left up to me, and what I would have thought best for me, what I thought was "logical", I would have missed out on one of the biggest blessings in my life.  We don't see the big picture, so we are left to simply trust that each stroke is exactly as it should be by the Master Artist.  But it's hardly simple to trust.  Especially when up close the canvas looks like a total disaster, and nothing you thought it would be.

Every time I get angry with the way things turned out, I look at Aria and am reminded that I am not my own, I am not the author of my life - but the One who is, knows best.  Always.  Even in suffering.

"Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." Luke 22:42

Well, that didn't quite turn into the update I sat down to write!  Oh well, hopefully soon I can actually share with you some of the other things that have been going on, including the ways I have been putting to use some of the generous gifts and donations you have blessed me with.

Til then...don't forget to sign up for notifications on this blog for new posts if you were getting them from CaringBride.  (From a mobile device scroll to the bottom and click on "View web version", and "Follow by Email" in the right column, or become a "Follower" below the "Blog Archive".

(Feel free to share on FB/Twitter/Email.  I've been told if I ever follow the suggestions of many to write a book, having a successful blog following is key to getting published...)

~Blessings~

Boiling Over

I'm feeling so supported today. God's timing is just so amazing.

However, last night was difficult. Aria went to bed a little early, allowing me more evening quiet time. I thought this was going to be a good thing...

I ate toast and bacon and had a glass of wine. I chuckled at how Brandon would be shocked by this new me. She who always obsessed over food. It has to be the perfect temperature, everything has to be ready at the same time and could never eat the same thing over and over. I have always been a picky eater. And here I am calling this dinner?!

Well, now I eat for necessity, not pleasure. I rarely have time to eat sitting down or while it's hot, and I'll eat pretty much anything put in front of me.

Toast, bacon and wine on a Friday night. Then I cried myself to sleep. Not quite the evening I had hoped for. But I know this part of the grief has to happen.

It's been hard to cry. I can tear up all day long, but to just cry it out has been a rarity.  It's tough to allow it to boil over, but I'm learning that I have to surrender to it when it comes on.

I woke this morning feeling a little anxious. Three of my girlfriends were coming over to have a cooking afternoon. I wasn't sure if I would be much company, let alone capable.

But God.  Oh, he knew how I needed to be surrounded by such loving friends.  I think He allowed me to fall into despair last night, knowing they would be there to lift me up in the morning.  We laughed and we cooked. 

And I had to remind myself that I don't always have to be 'on'.  I don't always have to appear to be OK.  Because the truth is, I'm not OK.  And that's OK.  And showing our hurt, vulnerability, and need isn't a bad thing.  It's freeing actually.  And it's often where I've found God showing up the most.  And being surrounded by such loving, giving friends always helps.

And not only did this afternoon serve me, but it served all of us!  We all have 4 full meals in our fridge for the week to come. 

I seriously recommend this strategy to others.  I mean, you get to hang out with your friends and then have meals ready for the upcoming week.  For me, since there is only myself eating, I'll have lunch and dinner all week long.  For the others, they will have 4 dinners, and likely 2 days of leftovers also, and it only took us 3 hours including a pizza lunch break.  Now all of our evenings this upcoming week will allow us extra time not cooking.

Here is our strategy in case you want to give it a try:

-Up to 4 people.
-Each person picks a meal to make. Pick different proteins or style (Mexican, Italian, etc.) for variety.
-Each person supplies the makings for their dish, with enough for 2 - 4 servings for all who are cooking.
-Each person supplies the 'disposable' Tupperware for their dish.
-Pick a day and help each other cook and assemble the dishes.

If something takes a while simply prep that part the day before (ex: slow cooking pulled chicken).  We even had a vegetarian and a 'meat-on-the-side' preference to work with, and successfully accommodated both.

We had a great time, in a short time, was inexpensive, accomplished a daily need, AND we all have healthy home cooked meals to enjoy.  Win-win-win-win-win.

Anyhow, I was excited to share this idea with you all since it was so successful for us.

God bless.

6 month / 3.5 month Update

I can not believe my sweet girl is actually 6 months old already. God has blessed me with a beautiful baby with a beautiful temperament! I have been told by many on airplanes, in stores, and at restaurants how well behaved she is. I truly believe God has everything to do with this.

Aria is sitting on her own now! Still supervised, because she hasn't quite figured out the consequences of gravity completely. She has done a full 360 degree pivot on her belly following Tobey (the cat) as he circled the room. She is holding her own bottle and we also started some solids this week which has been a delightfully messy experience!

She cut two bottom teeth over Christmas too. I didn't even know, she was teething, then there they were! My goodness their new developments happen so fast.

Oh, she is just the most precious little thing to me. She wakes up with a smile and does this cute little wiggle of excitement when my face pops into her view over the crib. It melts my heart. She would have Brandon wrapped so tightly around her finger.

As for me, I think I am entering the next phase of my grief. The shock is starting to wear off. It's strange how that works. The fog is lifting a bit, revealing everything with more distinction. The good part about this is that it is allowing me to finally feel the deep maternal love for my daughter. That feeling people talk about having that can only be known once you become a parent. Don't misunderstand, I have loved Aria from the moment we knew she was growing inside me, and even more when I finally held her in my arms. And every day, as I get the blessing of being her mother, that bond grows stronger and stronger. But grief is all encompassing, and shock dulls both the bad and the good. It becomes about survival, and numbness has seemed to be my ticket through the past 6 months.

However, as I start to feel again, that means that I am more attuned to the ache of Brandon's loss now too. It's harder to push that pang of pain aside to “keep on keepin' on”. It lingers, and demands to be felt.

Like every morning as I pour my orange juice, I now reach for only one cup. Lately this mundane daily task brings about so much heart ache. First I think how I used to pour for two. I'm taken back to how our mornings used to be. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I remember how I had to set 2 alarms. One, about a half an hour before we had to get up that stirred Brandon so that he could come over and cuddle before we had to actually get up. He was not ashamed of his love of snuggles!

Then, instantly I feel like I have been punched in the gut, missing his embrace so deeply. I think of how off it feels to be sleeping on his side of the bed. The whole room looks different from there even though it hasn't changed. It looks like the difference between a house and a home. The presence that made our bedroom feel warm, loving and safe is gone. Now it's a shell of what was.

My mind auto pilots on this roller coaster of beautiful memories and deep hurt, each one leading seamlessly to the next.

Suddenly I snap out of it. I don't know how much time has passed as I stare blankly at a single glass of orange juice. An unlikely trigger for bunny trails of memories, thoughts and anguish, but yet every day the most absurd thing leads to this viscous circle of events, and it has only gotten harder lately as the shock wears off.

But God has remained faithful. Just as the shock has begun to wear off He brought my friend here for a visit at the perfect timing. To laugh with me, cry with me, and give me just a little taste of what it's like to take care for a child with a partner. The fun of just sitting on the floor watching this precious little girl discovering this world around her with such excitement and innocence, and having someone else there to enjoy it with.

It's hard to explain the loneliness of doing it all alone. Surprisingly it's the seemingly insignificant moments that so significantly hurt. It's the down time. The time in between. It's so very, very quiet.

Yes, I know - soon it won't be very quiet around here. I'm sorry, but knowing that doesn't help. Then I'll be longing for my partner to help me through the chaos, not the quiet.

And the quiet is so much more then just a lack of "noise". It's the quiet in the space that Brandon used to be. No amount of noise will ever fill that space.

But, on a more positive note, I do also see some improvement over the 3 months since Brandon has passed.  I have come to accept that this is my reality.  The moments where my head spins and all I can repeat in my mind is "Is this real? Is this real?  Is this real?" are less frequent.  It has moved on to "Why did this happen?".  But I'm not looking for an answer. It's just a different kind of disbelief I guess.

So we will keep taking it one day at a time.  I have found some wonderful support groups that I look forward to attending a few times a month.  I am getting a childcare schedule figured out and am attempting to find some "normalcy" in this mess.  And God continues to direct each step I take.

Note:  Again, please feel free to sign up for email notifications to continue to follow our journey, as I will no longer be updating on CaringBridge.  Thank you!