Weight of the Date
This week will mark the three-year anniversary since my husband suddenly died. I started feeling the weight of the date the first day of the month. There’s a heaviness of angst in the anticipation of the day as I recall the experience of his abrupt departure.
Time takes on another dimension after the loss of a loved one. Grief marks the first year like the aftermath of a hurricane. You walk around in a daze trying to gather remnants of your life. I found the first year was about survival. Getting through the day was the goal. Making it through the first-year firsts; birthdays, anniversaries and the holidays was like moving a load of bricks up a mountain.
The second year I found myself struggling to gain my footing in a different space in an unknown landscape without my spouse. The grief remained, while I navigated the waters of being single. It was like learning to function again after getting out of a full body cast. It took time to recalibrate my routine and role without my husband.
In this third year, I have moved into a space of settling where I am learning to live with my loss. I miss my husband every day, and will continue to do so. I don’t cry every day, like I did the first year. There’s an obvious ache that makes me aware of others who have suffered loss. My life looks completely different. Amidst the loss, I am experiencing satisfaction and joy once again.
There’s been a deepening of my faith and relationship with God, below the surface where I take the Word as my daily bread, digesting and absorbing each word. I have a radical dependency on God as I move forward that strengthens and sustains me.
There’s been a widening of my life to include others who have suffered loss. Nothing has been wasted. God is unfailingly faithful to meet me in a different place as I continue to hold tightly to the Hope that binds up the wounds of the past, helps me in the present, and provides a look to the future.