On a Personal Note

This Sunday families will gather to celebrate Father’s Day.  This Sunday would have been my 40th wedding anniversary.  I’ve had a few months to consider the duality of the day for my children and myself.  There’s a wide expanse of emotions that I’m already feeling. 

Memories loom large as I consider the date and how I want to honor it.

I’ve come to a couple of conclusions.  The first, of course, is my children would not be here if my husband and I had not said “I do” in the front of the church where we said some of our vows in Spanish.  My daughter, Alicia, and my son, Kenny, are the two greatest gifts in my life.  Tears are welling as I write this now, representing the profound gratitude to God for making me their momma and the love I have for them.

The second option that comes, as I ponder this Sunday, is the collision and coexistence of opposing responses.  I was blessed to have 36 years with my husband, Fred.  Our last anniversary celebration was in Boston where we walked the Freedom Trail and ate lobster.  Two of his favorite things together; history and eating fish.  I hoped to have more than 36 years together.  However, I am grateful for the years I did have and grieve the ones I don’t get to have.  There’s so much good in knowing we have space for both.

The coexistence of gratitude and grief began after Fred died 3 years ago.  I realized in a gentle, yet profound way that I was filled with a depth of appreciation for what I had in my marriage while standing in a gaping, wide hole of grief and sorrow.  It was a strange dichotomy. 

June 20 will always be engraved in my mind and etched into my heart as a day of celebration.  This year I will be with my children and we will celebrate and toast the day I married their dad.  There will be tears and there will be laughter.  Once again a reminder there is room for both at the same time.  Truly, I am grateful to be able to honor, remember and grieve what I had and embrace, enjoy and experience what I still have. 

"Grateful Yet Grieving"

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download

Not Made to Forget

Some habits are hard to break.  Last week I was signing a card for a friend who is getting married. As I signed the card with my name, I then continued to write the first letter of my husband’s name, before I stopped.  As I removed the pen with a jerk, I came to a slow awareness of how my thinking brain knows he’s gone, but my memory brain automatically kicks in.  I’ve heard of people who even after their spouse dies still pour two cups of coffee in the morning or set out two place settings for a meal.  It’s a strange phenomenon.

 There’s a unique process on how we adapt to life after loss.  Our heads hold facts and information while our hearts hold onto the patterns of doing things the way we use to when our loved one was alive.  There’s a saying, “our bodies remember what our mind forgets.”  Research has demonstrated how our bodies have a place for memories that we experience.  We are whole beings, with all our parts connected, body, mind, soul and spirit.  Psalm 139:14 reflects the beauty of our wholeness; “I will praise you because I have been remarkably and wondrously made.” 

 Our loved one is forever etched into the fiber of our being. We aren’t meant to forget. There’s a sweet mercy in remembering our loved one and talking about the memories we made together. We were attached to our loved one when they were alive and we are still attached after they are gone. There’s a quote by Helen Keller that reminds us of how true this is; “What we once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes part of us.” Loss allows us to remain connected as we remember our loved one. Because we loved, we grieve. And because we loved, we continue to love and always remember our loved one.

"Grateful Yet Grieving"

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download