I'm sitting in my living room. My two youngest kids are playing at my feet in the living room. My oldest two are sleeping in after staying up with me last night to welcome in the new year. The last fire log from my garage is crackling in the fireplace. My Christmas tree is still up; the lights are twinkling. Presents have all been opened. Family has been visited.
And I have been a widow for 372 days.
I wanted to take a few days to digest our Christmas before I tried to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) to talk about it. And as I have thought and re-thought our holidays, I realized that we had a great Christmas. It was as it should have been; we laughed, we spent time with family, we reflected, we rejoiced at how far we've come.
I feel as if I stepped very lightly with every Christmas "thing" that we did this year - unsure as to how it would affect any of us. But, I found that many of our normal Christmas traditions (decorating the tree, hanging stockings, Christmas Eve light display drive, etc.) were met with a certain comfort - almost like a hug from an old friend. We also did as was suggested in my grief group and started a new tradition - nothing big and magical (going Mexican for Christmas Eve dinner) but it's ours, we've embraced it, and it's something that we can look forward to.
I will admit that buying Christmas presents without Kyle was odd. There was always something so exciting about going out together to pick out presents; especially for the kids. He, himself, was a kid at heart and he had so much fun. We often went over our present limit - but he got so much joy out of seeing our kids' faces light up on Christmas morning. I found myself a little lost with it this year - but I survived and the kids were overjoyed Christmas morning, so I feel like I succeeded.
Out of all of the possible emotional triggers surrounding Christmas - surprisingly to me it was a song. Not Christmas songs in general. Nope, one single stinking song. And not even a song with any sort of meaning to either Kyle or myself. In fact it's a song that I really never liked- even before he passed away - and even more so now.
The Carpenter's "Merry Christmas Darling" (sorry if you're a fan).
I wasn't even purposefully sitting and listening to Christmas music - I only had it on in the background while doing random chores around the house. That song came on and I was immediately transported back to December 23, 2015.
The hospital had a wing of rooms in an older part of the building that they rented out to family members of patients in the ICU. I decided to rent a room for the night so that I could be AT the hospital yet still try to get sleep. They had attempted to take Kyle off of sedation and the ventilator earlier that afternoon/evening and it didn't go at all as expected. I was a complete wreck. I wanted to stay with him - but also being pregnant I had to think about the baby as well. So I decided to take advantage of having a room with an actual bed to sleep in.
The room itself was a good five or six minute walk through various corridors of the hospital. One of the hospital employees had walked me over there during the day - but when I walked over there that night I was alone. Since it was late at night the halls were virtually empty; except for the random pictures of Jesus on the wall. It felt so cold, so lonely. And that song was playing - echoing in those empty halls. I can't tell you if was playing from the hospital speakers or if it was playing from some random office whose home was in the hospital.
I didn't really sleep that night. I couldn't stop physically shaking from the fear of what was slowly unfolding in front of me. All I could do was beg God for a miracle over and over again. It was also that night, in that hospital room, that I felt our sweet baby move on the outside of my belly for the first time. Something Kyle would never get to experience. I like to believe that it was that exact moment that Kyle was taken into Heaven - and somehow it was a connection with our sweet baby moving the way he was.
So - that song, every time I heard it this year, brought me vividly back to that day. And it seems like that song was played more this year than I've ever heard it before! I never really broke down - but it caused this really uneasy, heavy feeling in my chest.
It's so bizarre the way the mind works - what it holds on to.
We decided to spend Christmas day morning this year in our new home and then make our way to Oklahoma to spend the remainder of Christmas day and a couple of days after with Kyle's family. I could not imagine being anywhere else this Christmas.
Our trip to Oklahoma was so needed and we had a wonderful time with Kyle's family. There were some tears shed. But for the most part I just enjoyed being with them.
For me - everything didn't really hit until the days after Christmas.
In my grief journey I have found that grief doesn't hit when you would expect it to rather it just pops up in the least expected times.
The day after Christmas I was in my mom-in-law's backyard with our new puppy. And my mind brought me back to the last time Kyle was in that yard - he was playing frisbee with the kids. It felt like it was just yesterday!
Two days after Christmas there was a post online from a girl who was looking for recommendations for OBGYN's who deliver at the same hospital where our youngest was born. Because I believe that my OB is without a doubt the best in the business (he handled my situation so delicately), I felt compelled to write this girl to let her know about my experience. For whatever reason this brought up the same exact feelings I had on Christmas Eve 2015 when I had an OB appointment. My OB's office shared a sky bridge with the hospital Kyle was in. I remember that walk to his office. I'm pretty certain I looked like a deer in headlights the entire walk over. And then I had to tell my OB what was going on with my husband at the hospital right next to his office. He and his nurse could not have been more compassionate; they both spent extra time with me, listened, spoke words of encouragement to me, and he did an extra ultrasound for me so I could just see my baby. He pointed out little things, like the baby's toes and fingers, and then just let me watch the baby move around on the screen. But still there was a knot in my stomach the entire time; that sinking feeling. And in writing this girl I had flashbacks to that feeling. That was the first time since Kyle passed away that that particular feeling came up.
That same day I took my older kids out for a late lunch. We ran to McDonald's before going to the store. The McDonald's we ate at had a direct view to the place where we had our now-three-year-old's first birthday party. It felt like it was just yesterday. I could see the back door that we had gone through to carry decorations in and out. And again the knot in my stomach came back - the nearly-nauseating feeling of grief. That feeling of knowing that no matter how much you could possibly want to - you could never bring someone back.
This coupled with the knot in my stomach from the post about my OB and I felt the tears coming. And you know what I did? I let them. I sat in that McDonald's and let myself have that moment. It didn't last long - but apparently the release needed to happen.
We did.
We did it.
God did it.
God has surrounded us and made it possible for us to have made it through this past year. We have made it through a year's worth of holidays and special occasions. And we have made it through the first anniversary of Kyle's passing.
I know that he would be so proud of all of us for the way in which we have faced and conquered the unknown without him; the way that we have all rallied around each other.
I have lived 372 days without him.
The most important words in that last sentence: "I have lived".
And now, another new year is in front of us.
I feel like the last 372 days have taught me so much about continuing to live (genuinely live - not just exist) when, to quote a famous philosopher, my life got flipped, turned upside down.
In any situation I know that my God goes before me. He knows the end from the beginning. There is peace in that.
Trust me, I fail God on a daily basis. I don't have it together when it comes to my relationship with Him. At all. I can't stand up and quote scriptures. I really don't know as many Bible stories as I should. I don't make it to church every Sunday.
But, His love for me has never failed. Even when it seems like maybe He's made a mistake - in the end it ends up that He was so, so right. If we're keeping score - He has yet to get anything wrong. Those are some pretty great odds. That is why I can have absolute faith that He knows what He's doing.
This is the story He has given me. It is my job to live this life in such a way that He is glorified - that others might see that it is He in me that has allowed me to come this far.
It is because of Him that I have hope.
My Grandma Esther wrote to me in 1999 about her own husband's passing when she was a young, pregnant mother. She said "I dearly loved him and thought I could never live without him. But God showed me otherwise. Because when he died, God was so close and protective and helped me in every way. It was a terrific experience to have God to depend on solely".
When Kyle first passed away - I couldn't imagine I would ever be able to say such words. But now 372 days later - I feel as if I could have written those exact words myself. God has been so close and so protective. I never thought I could live without Kyle - but God has shown me otherwise.
So what's next?
I have set some goals for 2017. Not necessarily resolutions. I want to get to know me; I want to discover who I am. Not me as a wife. Not me as a mom. Me as an individual. I want to know me again. It is so easy to get lost in the identity of "wife" or "mom" or "student". But at the end of the day, I'm still an individual. I also want to better myself (physically, mentally, spiritually). I want to learn to not fear the loneliness - but to appreciate it.
Where 2016 has been a year of change, I pray for 2017 to be a year of growth.
