Wednesday, May 26, 2010


Today I have been thinking about anger a lot. And I mean a lot. Last night I read a blog post by an acquaintance of mine who is so angry it just seethes out of her and then just oozes off the page to the reader. She lost her husband a year ago and her husband's killer gets out of prison this week.

As I reflect on anger in general, I wonder specifically if I have it. Am I angry because Brian went to heaven and left me here to be alone; to raise three kids by myself?

I have to say no, I am not angry.

Sad, yes.

Disappointed, yes.

Wondering, yes.

My circumstances are different than this acquaintance of mine, meaning the death. Brian left this world by suffocating, being found face down in his pillow. A few weeks prior, we had an amazing conversation about our past together and he apologized for things he had done that hurt me, intentional or not. He had never intended to hurt me but certain choices he made and actions he took did just that. And he apologized for those things -- specifically by name. There was nothing left undealt with between us.

The night before he died, I told him to keep his eyes on Jesus and he did... all the way home to heaven. There are things I won't know until I get to heaven, but right now I know what I need to know.

I know Brian loved me with everything he had.

I know he wanted to serve God and do what was right, even though it would have been difficult.

Tonight, the girls went to The Attic, the bereavement group for kids at our church. They did an activity where each person wrote on a plate all that they were angry about and then threw it on the ground to break it. Get that anger out! Turn it over to Jesus! I was asked if I wanted to take a plate and do it and I declined.

I am really not angry.

Everyone deals with loss and grief in their own way and EVERY person's experience is different. I hope that others anger will subside and that they will feel peace as I do.

Father God, help me to understand and be empathetic toward others who have experienced loss. Use me for your glory and let your light shine brightly through me.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

another "see you later"

I chuckle to myself as I remember something my dad always used to say to me when we would part ways. He would never let me say good-bye. It was always, "see you later." And now, I am so glad he instilled that in me. Because I will. I will see him later. Later in heaven along with my dear Brian, whom I miss so deeply.

My dad lost his battle with merkel cell carcinoma [MCC] yesterday morning. what an intense time it was. Thankfully mom and I had a friend here with us to keep watch over him through the night as his passing hour drew nearer. We rested, Dad struggled with his breathing, our friend prayed, and the nurse on duty desperately wanted to help my dad in those final hours.

Looking back, I cannot see that my dad would have ever been feeble and week as some elderly folks get. No, he was strong, really, to the end. Even though he could no longer eat or drink, his physical body, mental energy and heart were strong. The MCC didn't become invasive to his body but rather just took over his neck and face area, eventually closing off his esophagus so he could no longer breathe. If he had to have cancer, MCC was really the best for him. He saw it growing everyday, not worrying about where else it was going. He liked to be in control of things, and though he could not control the cancer's growth, he had a handle on where it was. Typically cancer grows on the inside and one cannot see it. It's slow and painful oftentimes. In Dad's case, no. It grew quickly [overtaking his throat area in less than a week] and painlessly [except for pressure he felt on his jaw bone and the occasional pain spike in his neck near the spine].

Really, God was so good. I shake my head as I write because I just can't believe i even write this stuff sometimes. But the feeling is real and genuine in my heart. Just like I believe Brian's death was a merciful one, the same rings true here.

Well, Dad, I miss you. I've got no one to help me out with the car now and I don't know who I'll turn to for those big bear hugs you gave. But you know, God is good. I am sure you see that now that you are with him for eternity. I love you, Dad. And I WILL see you later.