No New Pictures
Today is the day David left this Earth and it is the close of year three. Every year has been a different set of emotions and this year has been particularly hard for so many reasons.
The end of the first year I went out of town to get away from house construction and other situations. I rented a small house on the river where David loved to kayak and wrote this:
A year without you
“A year and I finally feel like I can breathe again, even if just short breaths while treading water. I am not sure where to start, one minute you kiss me goodnight and the next day you’re gone.
The fog clears sometimes and I find myself going through the motions of getting on with my life. I really don’t know what that looks like yet, or feels like. But I am not ready to get on with my life so I am closing my eyes to this past year and going back to when things were semi-normal. I remember how tired you were from not having your steroids. I remember we both were going to bed early because neither one of us had slept well. I remember you came in there to kiss me goodnight like you had done almost every night you weren’t away. But that night you sat on the bed and just stayed. I didn’t understand it then I was so tired. But I understand it now, you knew. In some way you knew that would be our last moment together. I wish I had let you linger a little longer but I didn’t. I will never know what the unspoken words would have been. But I can imagine that we would have talked about you getting better. We would have made plans for our next cruise or our next adventure. We would have smiled about the grandkids and figured out what we would do when your treatments were done. We would have shared one more memory to last a lifetime. I know there was room for one more.”
After I wrote it I remember having a peace about all the decisions we made during that short time, and I realized as hard as it was, everything I did for David I did out of love. No more, no less. So I decided that I would cut my trip short and go home that evening. It was the night of August 9th and I knew my house would be empty so I could just be surrounded by our lost lives together. I was so proud of myself for surviving that first dreaded year.
That evening as I was watching TV, tears started streaming down my face which was weird. I did not even feel like crying but there they were. I looked at my watch and it was about 5:30, around the same time David took his last breath. I remember I walked to the back door and looked out at the porch where we spent most of our time, the pool with so many happy memories and the moonflowers you loved. And that is when it hit me: it wasn’t about surviving the first year, this was my life now. Everyday for the rest of my life will be without him. And it hit me HARD, fetal position, sobbing out loud hard. It honestly set me back to the emotions of the day I lost David, like a rewind to the worst day of my life. I was not as strong as I thought I was, nor did I want to be. It was what it was and I made it to the next day.
Year two was going through the motions of so many changes in my life. Selling the house, moving to an apartment, and a horrible situation I found myself in. But the main thing I remember about year two was no new pictures. Everyday on Facebook, memories pop up. Especially if you post as much as I do! My whole life is on Facebook but I was glad that first year because I could see our happy times over and over. Then came the reality check: no new pictures. I kept seeing the same pictures from the year before and I suddenly realized time had stood still for David and there would be no new pictures of him on Facebook or anywhere. It is something you don’t really think about until reality slaps you in the face.
On August 9th of year two I had to work but I was able to stay in my classroom and avoid people. There were hugs and sad eyes but overall I survived and I felt good about it. Then it happened…
I was sitting on my balcony at the apartment having a glass of wine, and I was thinking about all the happy times. I remember I felt at peace and that I was going to be okay. I remember looking to the sky and smiling at David, and I actually felt like he was smiling back. Then I saw it, a heart shaped cloud. I did a double take to make sure I wasn’t imagining anything and I took a picture so I could see I wasn’t crazy. But there it was, just for me. And I lost it again. Though I wasn’t in the fetal position this time, it was a hard cry of so many emotions. Pain and peace coexisting in my heart, mingling together to pour out over a loss that I still could not understand but had accepted. Anticipating this new life once again without David.
Now year three is coming to a close and I will write about it at a later time. I have training today so this will be a harder day than the last two years, there is nowhere to hide. But I will put on that I am okay face, do my best to hold the tears and pray to God to walk with me today. At this moment it feels like David is missing me as much as I am missing him and maybe a tear is rolling down his cheek too. I know that isn’t happening, but this is my moment and that is what I feel. Maybe it is the fact I want him to miss me so much he comes home. Yes, I think that is it.
So I am asking for prayers today, for myself. I rarely do that but between turning sixty without him, the end of summer and the beginning of a new school year, and the three year mark it has been an emotional time. I know God hears every one of the prayers. And when He wraps me up in his loving embrace today, He will pass all those prayers and love into my heart and I will be able to smile and find peace.
