The most I ever did for you is outlive you....

I was not prepared to be left behind.  For what ever reason, both Terence and I assumed that (not only would we grow old together) but that I would 'go' first.  And yet, here I am coping with aloneness.

Outliving Terence was never a part of my plan.

I am alone. I am lonely, but when our grief counselor asked us today "if you were asked to decide between being the cause for sorrow, or accepting the sorrow of loss, which would you choose"?

I visited an old thought.  When Terence was alive- throughout the last 36 months (up until his last 2 weeks) we would have conversations like this:

 Me:       "I wish it was me, not you".
Terence: "No, I'm glad it's me and not you".
Me:         "but I hate seeing you suffer. You know, if it was possible I would willingly be the one to
                have the cancer instead of you".
Terence: "well then if that was possible, I would take it back"....

...and on it went, us telling one another that we would gladly give our life for the other.

Living in the moment we were focused on the one who was dying. But neither of us were thinking about the one left behind.   It is we, instead of our loved one who is experiencing the sorrow.  It is , in a way our gift to that person.  I guess we had it backwards.

"We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord"

2 Corinthians 5:8

I think Terence got the 'good side' of goodbye...

I am here to go on, 
to carry on the legacy of our relationship
into the generations ahead 
making bright our memories in their lives.

 

The winds of winter

"...a strong wind was blowing and the waters grew rough...." 

 Jn 6:18

The initial impact of Terence's death is starting to wear off.  
It's been 12 weeks.  Sometimes I feel that I am losing control.  
In fact,  I think I lost control a long time ago.

They say I may 'experience a feeling of temporary instability'...
yes, and it's a scary feeling.  
 I think this is an important time for me to
 remember that I have the ability to cope:

 

"God is my refuge and strength, A very present help in trouble. Therefore I will not fear, Even though the earth be removed, And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; Though its waters roar and be troubled, Though the mountains shake with its swelling." Psalms 46:1-3

 The winds of winter are blowing heartlessly 

and the waters have become rough... 

I am realizing 

that this is a time 

when much of my adjustment 

to widowhood takes place.

Heartache is when your love have no where to go

"Heartache happens when your love have no where to go"

I miss his smiling eyes

Last night I cried myself to sleep.  I had a great day and even went to be feeling at peace but woke up at about 3:30- my mind replaying Terence's last hours.  I tossed and turned- shutting my eyes tightly as if that would make the images go away... and the images brought on powerful surges of grief. 

Someone recently said "Heartache happens when your love have no where to go".  I can attest to that.  I miss Terence so much.  He's gone.  I can no longer reach out and hug him....it feels like my love has no where to go.

However, I discovered something new today. 
There is a love that is driven by compassion and it does have somewhere to go. 

I went shopping today- the cashier asked me if I wold like to make  donation to the American Cancer Society .  I said "Of course............my husband recently passed away from cancer".  The young man standing behind me joined in our conversation- he said " I'm so sorry to hear about your husband......I just got my test results back- I am now 2 years with No Evidence of Disease (NED)".  He told me that he has been fighting stomach cancer since he was 22. He is now 26. I have a son his age.

I started to cry.  Not because Terence had died, but because this young man had lived.  I was overwhelmed with emotion appreciating what it takes for someone to battle cancer.  Without thinking, I reached out and hugged him and said "I am so happy you are alive!!!"

He started to cry.  

Later he told me that he has no family and his wife left him when he was diagnosed. He had faced the journey entirely alone.  He was touched by what I did because there had been no one who appreciated his fight, or his life. 

I genuinely celebrated this young man's life with a hug.  I guess my love does have somewhere to go.

I can't explain what happened inside of me- but when I got home my heart ached less.

"Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn". 

Romans 12:15