Four Years Closer to Forever

It has been four years. Charles took his last breath on April 1st, 2014. On that day, we all had to breathe in the fact that he was really gone from this world. The cries of my children, after hearing of their daddy's death, still haunt me sometimes. The weeping and wailing is not something a mother forgets. The tears still fall now for all of us, but not as violently. We have all learned it is OK to feel, and OK to cry. 

A good cry can be very healing, like an ointment on a lingering battle wound. 

These last four years have changed me, and my family. The way we view life has been altered forever. We all acknowledge that our hearts have been changed for the better, despite the bitterness of our loss. I feel like I have grown a new heart. My heart sees people more clearly, and loves people more deeply, but sometimes my heart is so mushy towards others that it hurts! 

I can see in my children a level of charity and understanding that I certainly did not possess as a child. They will live their whole lives seeing life through a unique lens, after losing their dad. I hope their experiences will be for their good, and that they can help to make the world a better place, because of what they understand about love and loss. 

Four years ago, Charles struggled for his life in our living room, right in front of me. My love was being ripped from this world and into the next, without my permission, and without warning. I called 911. I prayed my guts out. But I could not save him. 

His last words that I heard were, "I can't breathe!" He was still alive when he left our home in an ambulance -- fighting with all his might -- but by the time I arrived at the hospital, I found him physically altered, no longer himself, and surrounded by medical personnel performing CPR, trying to bring him back to life. But he was gone, and I knew it. 

When his heart failed, so did mine. 

Oh, my heart. My love. My Charles. 

I will still wake-up in the middle of the night sometimes, and feel the sharp reality that he is gone. Time takes away the constant sharpness of the stabbing grief-knife, and the feeling becomes more like a fork that pokes me from time-to-time, testing to see if I am ready to come out of the emotional oven, or if I need more time to bake in my sorrow. The grief-poking is better than the grief-stabbing, but it is still a nuisance to be prodded in such a way. 

Sometimes I am triggered by something, that creates the dreadful imagery of that death-filled day, bringing it to the forefront of my mind, in realtime. These memories are in my mind, lurking, not always dancing center stage, but waiting in the wing for their moment to perform. I have learned to embrace these memories for what they are: moments of truth. They are pieces of my life, my story, and even my strength. When the triggers come, I am reminded that I have lived through every moment, whether good or bad. And I will continue on living through such moments with courage, as I keep moving forward in a happy way. 

I am OK with moving forward. I really am. 

I know that I'm supposed to march on into the future, and I will. I promise, I will. But I move forward, I do not "move on." I will take my memories with me, as I march. 

My memories are me! 

I will always be a widow, even if I get married again. I would like to "shake-off" the widow label, and run far from it, as fast as I can. But I am a widow. I was made a widow by life circumstances, it is not a label I chose. I do not know why it is my lot in life, but it is. And so, I am trying to embrace my widowhood more fully. And by that I mean, I want to take what I have learned as a widow, and allow it to fuel my life full of love and compassion, for all. 

I want my pain to fuel my purpose, and passion for people. 

It would also be easier if I could just "move on" from Charles, as if he never existed. But that is impossible! Charles is a part of me, he is woven into the deepest parts of my soul. We had become "one" in this lifetime. And not only that, he is also my future. We are bound together through time, space, the Cosmos, and the Heavens... forever.  

Thank goodness for forever. 

I will need at least forever, to love Charles. 

Anyway, enough of that... moving forward. ;) 

Last night, I took the children out for a walk. I decided we would go to the river, a place we loved to go with Charles. We gathered rocks, and I asked the children to make a commitment in honor of Charles. We wrote our commitments on the rocks, and we threw them in the river...

My commitment is to "Love More." (Charles had a loving heart, and was a great example to me.) 

Sammi committed to "Fear Not." (Charles was fearless in trying new things.) 

Daniel committed to "Get Ripped." (Charles was really strong for his size, and Daniel wants to be strong like his Daddy.) 

William committed to "Write in a Journal." (Charles was an avid journal writer.) 

Henry committed to "Love Daddy." (I asked him what he wanted to write on the rock, and he said, "I love daddy." 

We threw the rocks in the river.

 And had some fun together as a family.

We went for a walk just to breathe. Daniel was practicing his balance.

 We smiled a lot.

 And made silly faces.

Even though Henry doesn't have a daddy in the home, he does have a Daniel to carry him up high on his shoulders. Actually, Daniel's shoulders are much higher than Charles' were, so it is an even more thrilling ride. The Lord sends compensatory blessings. :)

 Beautiful flowers.

 Life is made new again.

We keep moving forward... to forever.