Eight-Year Remembrance

Last week marked the 8th anniversary of my husband’s death. In one way, it seems like last week, and in another strange way, it feels like a lifetime ago. My life has changed so much.

 Over the past 8 years, a greater distance has occurred, allowing me to see things in a different dimension. It’s as if I have been taken out of the front row and moved into the balcony of my life. With a wider view, I can see how far I’ve come. I didn’t stay in the same place as I was. There is life after loss. It’s, of course, a different life. I’ve experienced what they call post-traumatic growth.

Post-traumatic growth (PTG) is the process of change involved in developing beyond previous levels of functioning, and it can help us make sense of our world and our lives.

Some of the growth I’ve experienced can’t be measured precisely, but comes through awareness over time. Like with most losses, change is inevitable. Change and loss bring transition.

What I now know and have is a greater appreciation of life’s moments, being present, and developing a deep sense of gratitude for what I did have and what I still have. Gratitude has accompanied my grief from the very beginning.

My relationships have taken priority. Time spent with people is intentional, deeply satisfying, and life-giving. I’m moving away from taking people for granted and trying to pay closer attention as a listener.

My perspective on daily life issues, problems, and challenges has shifted. Big deals before are downsized. Not getting the parking spot I wanted is minimized. When you’ve experienced a major loss, a lot of what used to bother you becomes pretty minor. In the big picture, life’s little things stay small.

My faith has deepened as I’ve grown in my relationship with God. In the depths of my sorrow and sadness, I found hope, comfort, and solace from God through His Word, and prayer; both wordless and laments.

Our losses change us. We can grow in our grief. The pain will lessen, and love will remain. David Kessler, a grief expert, says, “What is the goal of grief? It’s to remember with more love than pain, in your own time, in your own way.” We loved, so we grieve, and we can grow.

‘‘Grateful Yet Grieving’’

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download

Remembering My Friend

Brenda and I became friends in 1981, the summer after we both got married at College Avenue Church in San Diego. We shared a friendship that lasted over 44 years.

The past 7 years brought us closer. Brenda and I would have scheduled weekly phone calls where we would talk, listen, share, cry, laugh, and pray together.

Before her diagnosis, Brenda would listen to me as I entered an abyss of grief as a widow after Fred suddenly died in 2018.

After her diagnosis, I would listen and watch her navigate life at City of Hope, with her long-extended stays and weekly and biweekly appointments. We both experienced a life we didn’t expect, but found hope in our faith and knowing God’s unfailing faithfulness and presence.

When she was at one of the extended stays at City of Hope, Brenda told me about going to the laundry room to wash some clothes. Another patient was doing her laundry. And you know, Brenda was going to ask her her story and how she was doing. In those ordinary moments, Brenda chatted with her and prayed with the woman. Brenda’s hope was real, and she wanted others to have it.

When you were with Brenda, there was always laughter. Brenda’s laugh would light up the room. Her joy reflected her faith and hope. Her faith was an anchor, and her hope was steadfast.

Brenda had a living hope and an anchor for her soul. It says in Hebrews 6:17, “we have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.”

Brenda’s hope was a result of her journey, enduring the season of infusions, surgeries, chemo, and medications. Her endurance was inspired by hope in her Lord and Savior, as it says in 1 Thessalonians 1:3.

In closing, I want to read you what I wrote to Brenda in my last note to her. It was August of last year; the last time I saw her when she and Tom were at Newport Dunes. I had sent it to Newport Dunes, but Brenda and Tom had already returned home, so it came back to me. Not by accident, I know—Here are the last few sentences:

“I consider our long-lasting friendship a true gift from God. As we age and face things we never imagined in our 20’s, God’s faithfulness, presence, and peace have been displayed in the darkness and pain.  And the sweetness of God’s presence has sustained us.” 

Brenda was a gift to me…She was a gift to all of us. As with most gifts, they are temporary.   However, we have hope that sustains us, and we will see Brenda again in heaven. 

A woman of faith who loved her family, friends, and her Lord and Savior.

I’ll leave you with a text from Brenda from June 27, last year, describing her latest chemo treatments. She ended the text with “Keep praying, keep trusting, and keep hoping.”

Romans 15:13 reminds us of this kind of hope Brenda possessed.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

‘‘Grateful Yet Grieving’’

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download