15 years ago, a little after midnight, on June 19th, 2006, I said goodnight to my husband and my best friend; not knowing that would be the last time I would look into his eyes. As I knelt beside his hospital bed in our living room, I touched his head gently, as to not startle him from his rest, and I whispered, "It's just me...I want to say goodnight." He opened his eyes, looked at me and said, "Just you? There is no such this as 'JUST' you." And then he smiled back at me.
And those were the last words he spoke to me.
It was a Monday morning, the Monday right after Father’s day to be exact; it was then my whole world changed. A line in the sand was drawn and it was a distinct marking point. A point in life that would define every moment going forward. I didn’t know it then, but life would forever be sketched between days prior to June 19th 2006 and days after June 19th 2006…a line drawn.
Sometimes, I would prefer that this day didn’t exist on the calendar any more, that there was some way I could ignore it…go to sleep on the 18th and wake up on the 20th; but then again, doing that still wouldn’t erase the pain or change the journey.
Grief can be so tumultuous. I tell people all the time how grief is a journey, and it truly is. You never know when grief is going to creep in, there are some moments when a song, a word, a smell, a dream, a book, a picture, a memory, or a verse will suck the air right out of me. I can’t always anticipate the exact moments when these things will happen; however, there are some days when I just know that the grief will want to stay awhile and no matter what, it comes, there are the usual holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, and then there is this day. June 19th.
I remember it like it was yesterday, and then at the same time it feels so long ago. It was going to be “our” day. We had had so many visitors lately, which Daniel loved, but it took a toll on me to keep up with the hosting and the socializing on top of all the caretaking.
On this day in 2006, we stuck a note on the door that requested no visitors for the day; except my grandmother. She was there to help just in case we needed something. My brother dropped her off around 7:15am and when she came in, she turned on the kitchen light (the hospital bed was in the living room and I was asleep on the couch next to him). I rolled over to greet her in my sleepiness and saw him laying in his bed asleep. It had been a late night, our friend Matt had stayed with me until about 3am and so 7am came very early. I opened my eyes just enough to look over and watch him sleep. I noticed pretty quickly that something wasn’t right.
I saw him take a breath, I could see his chest rising and then realized a long period of time went by before he took another breath. I got up and went to him and tried to wake him, but could not. Things got frantic and I yelled to my Nana that something was wrong with Daniel.
I was pretty hysterical when the hospice nurse arrived and told me “you need to call everyone to come”. I thought I was “ready”, but you never really are. Our hospice nurse, who had become family to us, told me to come and sit with him, she pointed out the tear rolling down his cheek and told me that he could still hear me and even though he was ready, he was sad to leave me. I felt ashamed that he heard me crying hysterical. I wanted him to know I was ready and that I was going to be okay.
The moments sped by but also felt like slow motion at the same time; for me, it felt like a true out of body experience. Like it wasn't really happening, but it was. My body's way of kicking into protection mode, a coping mechanism.
By this time, it was almost 9am. I did what I knew I had to do…let him go…as hard as it was going to be, I knew it was time. I leaned down and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay Daniel. You can go be with Jesus now.” And just a few seconds later, he took his last breath. She called the time of death at 9am. June 19th. It was going to be OUR day but God had other plans that day.
I’m not mad about that. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there are times that I felt bitter, frustrated, sad about the unknown, the “what-could-have-beens”, etc. but I’m not angry at God. I wasn’t that day either. Confused, disappointed, sad…yes. But not angry.
It’s hard to put into words what it is like to be a young widow, I try to share with others when I can, to help people understand; to help them see the Glory of God. So many AMAZING things have happened to me over these last 15 years; yet, he is still not here and no matter how many years pass by, his absence will always hurt. I will always miss him. I wish I could help people understand that about young widows.Grief doesn’t just disappear when life goes on or blessings occur (oh how I wish it did sometimes!). Grief is a journey, one that I presume I will be on for the rest of my earthly life.
“The joy of what is will never erase the pain of what was lost. On the flip side what was lost, makes our redemption all the more sweet. That's the literal representation of beauty from ashes. The beauty doesn't erase the ashes, but the ashes make the beauty all the more glorious.”
~ Sarah Rodriguez, “Journey of Sarah”
Seek Jesus in all things. My relationship with the Lord is the only thing that can explain the feeling of peace and the blessings that I have daily as I walk this journey of grief. A peace that goes beyond the understandings of this world. (Philippians 4:4-7 ESV)
I pray this for everyone I meet that is grieving and going through trails. Peace only Jesus can provide, you will not find it in this crazy world.
And even though June 19th can be a painful day for me, I try to focus on how Daniel loved me BIG, all the things he prayed for for me, and how sweet our reunion in heaven will be. That was his legacy.
Daniel's Courageous Journey in Pictures:
For more information about Daniel's brain tumor battle check out
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