It’s just been just over a year since Ken died from prostate cancer. It was a year of big feelings, big struggles, and big decisions. Some of those “big” things didn’t get finished. It was too much to take on, too much to think about, or too much to process emotionally. My indecision snowballed into self-critique, and then landed me in a pool of depression. It was “easier” to not think about them.

So I let them slide…

But now as I start the next lap, there’s a lot of pieces to pick up and tasks to finish. I admit that it was starting to overwhelm me (again) until I remembered that I do not have to do all of them in one day, or even in one month. (Who me? Unrealistic?) I do need to make progress, though. I started compiling the latest “list” which involves a lot more phone calls and even MORE list-making. Everything is do-able over the next several months. Maybe I have more bandwidth to deal with them now. Or maybe, I have discovered that some of these bits and pieces I worried about last year can wait I’m ready to make bigger changes and aren’t critical decisions right now.

Chatting with a friend who has been widowed twice, I noted that while I am not in the deep grief where I was a year ago, I still have feelings knock me over with their impact. She nodded and said that it seems to be part of the grief journey, and that she too has moments when she is overwhelmed. I realized I can’t predict when this will happen, but I can accept them when they do surface. Not stuff them, ignore them, or make light of them. Feel them. Braid them into my current journey and life experiences like the knobby, wobbly tapestry of my heart that simply IS.

There’s no control over when these emotions will pop up. A friend in my grief support group likens this to being in a snow globe, where something triggers a swirl of memories and feelings all around you. There’s not much you can do but wait as they settle down again. The emotional snowstorms aren’t as frequent as they were a year go. But they sure do show up, sometimes at the most inconvenient times!

For many months, I wore our wedding rings on a heart necklace. Someone who observed the heart was not whole asked me if I were broken-hearted. I said, “No… more open-hearted.” Circumstances broke some old habits and eased better ones into place. All to the good…

Jamie Anderson, English producer, director and writer best known for his work on the Doctor Who television show wrote:
“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in the hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”

Ken and I were together 39+ years. I can’t wipe away all of my feelings and memories (nor should I.) It is part of surviving. Part of growing. Part of carrying all that life gave us in those years: the good, the bad, and the ugly! It was deeply woven within me since we made a house a home, watched our daughters grow up and thrive in their respective gifts and loves, and grew in our careers and ministries.

On the one year anniversary of Ken’s death, I made time for a weekend Silent Retreat, where I worked through some of these stormy waves. I built a cairn in the Zen Meditation Garden. I topped my small pile of rocks with a memory stone I created at home, wrapped in burlap and tied with cotton twine. I set it down with thankfulness, tears, and acceptance of the spaces that I’m going to move into now. Before I left the garden, I decided I couldn’t just leave rocks… I found colorful leaves all over the garden, and carried them back to surround the cairn. Ken, a lover of trees and all things Tolkien, would have approved, I think.

There will be rocky days, and ones full of joy. I hang on the promises I know, and the love of God that carries me through them. One of my favorite Bible verses reminds me:

Why are you cast down, O my soul,
    and why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God, for I shall again praise
my help and my God. (Psalm 43:5 NRSV)

As with many events, the tincture of time will comfort and bring ease. I’ll gain more understanding and continue to find pockets of peace. Joy sparkles through everyday life. Friends and loved ones continue to encourage me. After all I have experienced in the last 4 years, I know that I need to process… remember… listen well to my heart… and hear Divine guidance at each turn. Easy? Oh… nope. But do-able? So far, I’d say yes.

Thankfully, I’m not doing this alone. Divine Love guides me today and every day.

Blessed be.