It has been more than eight months—eight months of dealing
with loss, finding a new normal, learning how to live again. We have come so
far. Yet at times, I feel as if I am standing still, searching for something
that I have forgotten. I pray for strength and stability. I pray for God to
remove the longing. And I wonder if this emptiness will ever be filled.
The kids are adjusting. Life without their daddy is
difficult at best. However, they keep moving forward, either denying or
ignoring the reality that is now theirs. Hunter avoids the topic at all costs.
Haley lives in constant fear that something will happen to me. And Haden is
worried that he will forget. I cry for them. Their loss is magnified by the
trauma that accompanied it, which creates a whole new level of complexity in
dealing with Woody’s death. Even friends who have lost a parent cannot relate
because they did not watch their mom or dad die in such a horrifying way. They
did not see their parent start to slip and fall over 100 feet. They did not
experience holding that parent on the side of a slippery granite slope while
blood spilled into their hands. They did not see injuries too horrifying for
words inflicted upon someone whom they loved with every fiber of their being.
No, it is difficult to find anyone who understands what they are going through
and what they have experienced. Yet, somehow, God is carrying them through it
and they are adjusting remarkably well—supernaturally well.
And me? I cannot think about that day. I cannot think about
the last time I looked into Woody’s eyes as he slid belly first over the
granite slope before falling over the ledge. I cannot think about holding his
hand and his head while we waited for the EMT’s. It is too painful. The tears
sting my eyes and fall unapologetically every time I do. I miss Woody every
day. I miss his laugh, his voice, his touch. I miss the way he loved me. I miss
the way I loved him. I miss being a wife. In every scenario I imagined for my
future, being a widow was not one of them. Yet, this is the path God has chosen
for me, and so I praise Him. Even in my sorrow, I find joy in my Father. He has
faithfully carried me through the darkest days and has set my feet upon solid
ground. The clouds are slowly fading away and the sun is beginning to emerge.
Hope is on the horizon. I will survive. Ever so softly, life has begun to edge
its way back into my heart.
Through all of this, one thing has remained clear—God is
love! He is merciful and kind. No matter what the future may hold for all of
us, He will constantly guard and guide us. We are clearly under His protective
wings. God is good, and if anyone had the right to question His character based
upon his or her circumstances, it would be me. Nonetheless, I still say God is
perfect in all His ways. And that will
always be clear.
