Just Another Day

Here it is again.  Its the 24th of the month.  I anticipate its coming, and am relieved when its over.  Its a reminder, a marker, a measuring stick.  It reminds me of when I lost my husband.  It marks how long ago it was, and all the things that have happened in that time.  It measures where I am in the healing process.  And each time it comes I hope it will bother me less, I hope that I will be further along in my healing, and closer to my future.  All other days of the month pass by as normal, only moments where I reflect on my life that was and the loss I faced.  But on the 24th it changes.  On the 24th I'm focused. Its a continual reminder.  And it keeps coming... every month.  I hope that one day, the 24th will come and go without me even noticing.  That the 24th will be just another day.

Today is a reminder. 10 months ago my husband took his last breath here, and his first one in heaven.  He is whole. He is healed.  He's hanging with Jesus, with my dad, my sister and his best friend.  I don't know if there are pranks in heaven.  But if there are, my late husband and his best friend are doing them;  Sliding down the streets of gold in their socks, and asking Jesus to pull their finger.

Today is a marker.  We've made it through so much since then. I've assumed leadership in the business, and completed almost every task that needs to be done.  I've developed relationships with our employees, and vendors. And I've fallen in love with the business, something I never thought would happen.  On the home front: I've potty trained my son, and he's growing and changing so much.  He's started preschool now, and I faced parent night alone- with very few tears.  I chartered every holiday, and started creating new traditions.  Two more months to go until I have made it through the first year.  It will be a relief to have made it through every event, season and holiday alone; a bittersweet accomplishment.

Today is a measuring stick.  Where am I in my healing process? I still hurt sometimes at the loss and the waste.  I still have those breath taking moments where reality sets in that he is really gone.  I face regret that I gave things away too quick.  That I didn't keep that purple shirt of his, or that I gave his Bible away to his daughter, because now I want it. I was so confused when he left, that I thought I had to erase him and his memory from my life.  But that isn't how it should be, and I am understanding that.  I'm starting to release the hurt of the hard times, and to remember the good ones.  I've forgiven him.  And I'm not angry at him any more.  I'm healing. I cry less, and have much fewer moments of grief, such as the one I experienced last week.

I've started to move away from dealing with and feeling my personal loss, to grieving the loss of my son's father.  I noticed it for the first time two weeks ago.  I was having a moment of grief and healing, and it was so clearly about the void my son has in his life.  I prayed for my son very earnestly.  And I cried.  I cried for my son.  He needs a daddy. He wants a daddy.  And he had a good one.  There is a vacancy.  He feels it and so do I.

I'm in a place where I can honor my late husband again.  Next month our business is joining a local race, and running in his memory.  We call it "Run for the Boss".  We are honoring who he was, and donating money in his name to Teen Challenge USA.  I want his memory and legacy to be a positive one, to his children and to those in his company.

I'm comfortable talking about who he was in an honest way, and not let his weakness cancel his strengths. I'm much more aware of speaking of him in a way that is honoring, for we don't stop honoring someone just because they are dead.  I'm more and more ready to share my story, and increasingly sensitive to whom I share it with and when.  I'm ready to move on in life. I'm ready for the next chapter.  And the best part is even though I'm still on this road of healing, I can still begin a new life.  Healing is a process.  I don't have to be completely through it to start moving forward.