Sunday, February 4, 2018

What Ifs...


That’s the thing about grief and loss. That living, breathing entity inside of us breaks all of us, literally our entire existence. It brings us crashing to our weakest point.

I have written about how it claws it’s way from within and consumes all of us, and often this happens years later even when we least expect it. It rips and tears our organs (which give us life and hope and our heart that gives us love) to shreds and it snaps our bones (the parts to hold us up and keep us standing strong) like nothing. Literally every piece of my old self has not just been bent and bruised. Every piece of me has been broken, ripped, shredded. 

It has taken me three years of “hard time” in the throes of grief to finally feel a bit of a flutter at the possibility of happiness again. To feel a bit like my brokenness is starting to mend. 

I’ve never had a broken bone, but I know that sometimes the break heals back nicely and the bone is just as strong after. I also know that sometimes when bones break, they don’t heal properly or mend back together in this nice neat package.  There are ripples and intentions left; there is a bit of tenderness remaining where pain can easily return. Often times the person who has suffered a broken bone is cautioned by medical professionals to be careful so as not to re-break that same bone. 

But what do we do, the grievers, when it’s our entire existence being broken again that scares us? How do we use caution against literally living? 

In the end of my book, yeah I’m gonna have to practice what I preach, I write about the strength we all must gather, whether we want to or not. I write about the possibility of finding someone new who we will want to go tell our deceased spouse about (yes that may seem weird but it’s legit a thing) and finding the strength to speak those words, “I’ve met someone and I think you’ll like him.” I write about the strength it takes to actually want to get dressed up to look good for another man. I write about the jitters behind that first text or call, the plans for a first date, and then maybe another. 

But what I don’t write about in my book is how that glimmer of hope, that hope for actually moving forward (remember, we never “move on” from a loss like this, but we can and do “move forward”...in grace and hope and love) scares us beyond anything we’ve known. 

I have dated since Mike left, not much, but neither experience proved worthy of my heart or time. And neither brought that gut feeling of, “woah...this might actually be real,” kind of feeling that I felt with Mike. I SO want to feel that again. You know, the butterflies? The heart beating faster at the sound of someone’s voice? You know the feeling. It’s beautiful. 

And I have hoped and prayed for three years that God will send me, Conner and me, a man worthy of our broken selves. I have prayed that He will put His Will at the forefront of really anyone who comes into our lives. That He will bring us happiness again. So I sure keep praying for the people who come into our lives, for the man who will enter my life, to be who God and Mike sent. 

But all this hope does not come without fear attached. Of course as widows, we live in constant fear. Of E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. 

But when it comes to the idea of dating again post loss, it makes us feel batcrap crazy! 

What if he doesn’t fall in love me, respect me, value me, or appreciate me? 
What if he doesn’t do that with our son? 
What if he doesn’t believe in God and won’t go to church with us? 
What if he doesn’t recognize that my grief, my son’s grief, will always be a part of us but that it will never be our whole sum? 
What if he doesn’t turn out to be as great as he may seem? 
What if he breaks my heart? 
My son’s heart? 

And here is the icing on the cake: What if I fall in love again and he dies too? 

And my dear, sweet, broken wisters and brothers in widowhood, here is where the whole “practice what I preach” bit comes in. 



What IF he DOES fall madly and deeply in love with me, with all of me? 
My flaws, the ones he can see and the ones he can’t? 

What IF he DOES respect me and my hopes and dreams, and even my every day routines? Enough to hold me tight when I need it but to also give me space when I need it? 

What IF he DOES value me and my life and my time and my heart? Enough to send me flowers for no reason, to run me a hot bubble bath and cook dinner for us? Enough to spoil me as much as I bygolly deserve to be? 

What IF he DOES appreciate me and how hard I work and all that I do for my son and 
myself and others? Enough to respect and appreciate my widow advocacy work? 

What IF he DOES believe in God and takes us to church? What if we have prayed for each other? 

What IF he DOES do all of respect, value and appreciate my son, our son, a boy who is turning to a man without his father? 

What IF he DOES recognize the grief and wants to visit Mike with us so that we can tell him how great of a man God has sent us? 

Just what if he DOES? 

Guys, there is no textbook answer to any question in life, and there sure as heck is no answer to how we navigate life after we lost so much when we lost our husband or our wife. There is no “how to” manual with nice diagrams, well I mean there are diagrams of the “grief cycle” (GAG, I call Bull every single time), of how to put ourselves back together in proper working order. 

And we all have scars. Whether we are grievers or not, every single one of us who has been given the beauty of life have scars. Grief scars just tend to run deeper than others. 

But, my point is this - I lived with so many “what ifs” after Mike died. 
What if I had gone to surprise him with lunch that day? 
What if I could have saved him?
What if I had fought harder for him not to buy that damned concrete plant?
What if I had gone with him that day?
What if I had gone with him more often when he asked?
What if I had called to check on him sooner? 
What if...what if...what if...

None of those got me anywhere. None of them brought me peace or less heartache. None of them brought me solutions to why he had to die just as we were in the prime of our life together. None of them have healed me or my son.

So what in the world am I still doing with them rattling around in my heart?!?! 

I am SO tired of living in the “what ifs”. So you know what I am going to do instead?

I am just going to LIVE.
And I am going to LOVE.
And I am going to HOPE.
And I am going to BE OK. 

Remember? God has me. I am Still His, a daughter of The King. So I can’t go wrong with just living the life He has blessed me with. And neither can you.

Sending so much love and light to you today and always.
#stillhis
Love,
Roni 

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