He restoreth my soul

the Lord is my Shepherd...

I remember these series of Bible verses from my early years.  I have heard them over and over again in my thirty-six years.  But I have never really stopped to put thoughts to each word in these six familiar verses.

In my grief class one particular verse has been brought up and for the first time a few weeks ago I let each word sink in:

"yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." (Psalm 23:4 KJV*)

I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. The valley of the shadow of death.  That is where I have been walking.  The valley, the pit. Valley's in life are expected. No single person is free from the burden of life's valley's.  They are no fun and certainly test a person's faith. Add in that valley the shadow of death. The shadow of Kyle's death has been lingering over me the past few weeks.  I don't grieve for Kyle; he has been made new in Heaven.  He is in a place of no suffering, no pain, no fear. I have grieved over the lack of Kyle here on earth. The memories we make that he isn't here to be a part of. 

The shadow of death. I believe this may very well be what they call the grief fog.  Where you go through the motions day to day.  You do what you need to do to survive but you don't truly live.    

The past 10 months have tested me.  In fact there have been times over the last month or so that I felt like I was slipping. There has been a heaviness hanging over me.  I got to where I was pretty good at fake smiling when it mattered - but I have felt so empty. Blank. I noticed that I was starting to actually distance myself from everyone. I felt myself pulling away from everyone who had been such a huge part of how I have made it the past ten months. I felt like maybe my grief journey was starting to go backwards and, quite honestly, it worried me. I know that people say that grief changes you - but I honestly was fearing that I wasn't going to be "me" again. 

I was just going through motions.  

Imagine a flower that is so alive, it spends its days dancing in the breeze, standing tall, face to heaven - and then one day the life starts slowly trickling from it - it starts fading, it starts wilting. This is how I felt.  I was wilting.   

I started to feel like my valley had a valley.

But then Friday, October 28, 2016 happened.

I had to take a trip to Florida.  We arrived early Thursday. I invited my cousin to come with me.  Back story, my cousin, Erika, and I are more like sisters.  We did a lot of our growing up together.  We haven't gotten to spend a lot of time together and I wanted to her to come with me.
  

When we arrived in Florida early Thursday afternoon we spent about four hours doing nothing but sitting on the beach.  Yes, it was nice. And it was relaxing.  I took a journal with me to just write down thoughts as I had them.  One thing I wrote on Thursday was:

"God. It is so true that sometimes you need to allow grief to wash over you like the waves of the ocean.  I feel as if I've done that. I feel as if I do that.  When grief comes at me, I don't fight it because I know that the healing comes from feeling.  But, God, I want - no NEED - YOU to wash over me like the waves of the ocean. Envelop me. Let me feel You all around me, all over me, all through me.  God, I need You!"

And then I just sat there on the shore allowing these waves of the ocean to come and wash over me. Little did I know what God had planned for me the very next day. 

Friday, we had decided to take a day trip to Gainesville to go see Ben Hill Griffin Stadium aka The Swamp where my beloved Florida Gators play...and where almost exactly five years ago Kyle proposed to me.  We had decided to take the scenic route on the way out. We picked out a couple of places to stop along the way but otherwise made no itinerary. 

This trip was actually almost more relaxing to me than sitting on the beach.  I have always loved road trips. I saw parts of the country that I had never laid my eyes on before.  We had the windows down, music up, we sang our lungs out, we talked about ev-er-y-thing under the sun, we laughed until we nearly cried, and we actually did cry. We ate key lime pie on Panama City Beach, we drove over 4 mile long bridges (if you knew my fear of bridges, you'd understand the importance),we went to an island, climbed a lighthouse, counted political signs, and just lived life. I haven't done this in a long, long time. And it was during this part of the trip that God started chipping away at this wall I had been trying to build for the past month.  I felt actually alive for the first time in months.  

Panama City Beach

St. George Island Lighthouse

From the top of the lighthouse (click to enlarge)

beautiful coastal drive

And then we arrived at Ben Hill Griffin Stadium.  A trip that should have taken about seven hours ended up taking us about ten and a half.  But it didn't matter. We were there.  

Ben Hill Griffin Stadium

I haven't been to the Swamp since Kyle proposed to me in November 2011.  When I walk into the stadium it always brings emotions - the good kind.  I love that place.  Seriously love it. 

There was actually something very poetic about being in The Swamp at night. 

The last time I was here it was day time, bright outside, there was excitement in the air because it was homecoming weekend, and the field was vibrant with that giant orange "F" marking midfield where Kyle proposed. 

This time it was night time, the big stadium lights weren't on so it was darker than I have ever seen it, and other than about five other people being there to run the stairs, we were in this massive stadium virtually alone. It was eerily quiet.  The markings on the field have been taken off for the season so the turf is bare and you can only barely see where the markings used to be. It was, to me, in some way, like this place of excitement and life was bowing its metaphorical head in solace with me and I wanted to just breathe it all in.

 I made my way to the 50 yard line. 

50 yard line

The stadium being so quiet and so still - it allowed for some time of reflection. I sat a few rows up so I could take in the vastness of the field.
I pulled out my phone and played one of our wedding songs.  I invited grief to go ahead and hit me.  I wanted to lean into it in this place - the place he asked me to spend forever with him.
  

Yes, I cried; that's nothing new.  

But something else happened there in that stadium at that very moment.  

I felt an actual, physical release happening. It was like God was peeling off this grief from around my heart. He was leading me out of the valley of the shadow of death.  He was restoring my soul. And I felt like Kyle was right there with me telling me that it was okay to live life.  It was okay to be happy.  It was okay to allow myself to feel actual joy.  It was almost like for the past ten months all of the times I've felt happiness (because I have felt happy many times) I would stop myself from feeling TOO much happiness because, in some way, if I allowed myself to feel TOO happy then it meant that I wasn't grieving the loss of my husband and maybe that meant I didn't love him as much as I should have.  BUT nothing could be further from the truth.  

Yes, grief is a souvenir of love.  But, the amount of grief I feel is not correlative at all to the amount of love that was and is there.  And in that moment it all made sense to me.  The greatest testament I can give to my late husband is to allow myself to feel joy, to feel happiness, to feel peace...to feel! To live.  And it was there in the place where our forever started that I felt him giving me permission to do just that.  I felt him releasing me from that cloud of grief.  I will miss Kyle every single day for as long as I have breath.  But, it is okay for me to move forward. 

(click to enlarge)

 

I felt peace.  So much peace there in that place. And walking out of there I felt the weight coming off of my shoulders.  

There is no time frame to grief.  And I'm not saying that my journey has come to a close (not even close)! But what I am publicly proclaiming is that the fog of grief that has been around me has lifted.  I feel as if I am coming out of the valley.  Psalm 23:4 talks about the valley of the shadow of death.  But if you jump back a verse, Psalm 23:3 says that "he restoreth my soul". And that is what exactly has happened.  My soul has been restored.  

Right after leaving the stadium we made a trek to Wal-Mart to stock up on orange and blue everything. It was late when we were coming back to the car.  The part of the lot we parked in was emptying out. But there was a vehicle parked next to us.  The hood was raised and a man was standing there looking at the engine.  

Let me pause here to say that believe it or not I am shy.  I'm introverted.  I typically don't start conversations.  But, before I knew what was happening my mouth flew open and I made some comment to the man about wishing I knew anything about cars so that I could offer some kind of help.  I asked if he knew what was wrong with it.  He told us that he and his wife had driven down from Atlanta that day.  He had lost his job in Atlanta (a construction job) that same day and they had started having issues with their car overheating. We stood there visiting with them for a second and, I kid you not, at the same exact time God moved in both mine and Erika's heart and we reached for our wallets at the same exact moment.  Pretty cool.  Obviously we didn't have much to offer them and they weren't actually even asking us for anything. Erika mentioned how if anyone knows that God can provide even when it seems impossible it would be me.  And I actually got a chance to share just a part of my testimony from the past ten months with perfect strangers.  I wasn't nervous.  I wasn't shy.  I wasn't introverted. In that moment I felt so much joy at what God has been doing in my life and I wanted to tell them all about it! God used me...shy, introverted Julie...to tell Rufus and Sharice that what Satan intends for harm, God can absolutely turn around and use it for good.  Their sweet faces lit up.  Sharice started crying.  We were all getting pretty emotional.  

Then.  I did something that I never, ever, ever do.  Ever! I asked if we could pray with them.  Trust me, I couldn't even believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. They said absolutely.  So, we stood there, held hands, and prayed in the Wal-Mart parking lot in Gainesville, Florida. Rufus gave each of us the biggest hugs before we got back on the road. Erika and I spoke afterwards about how much of a pull we felt towards them.  It was something that I've never experienced before. 

God has given me a story to tell.  He has given me a testimony to share.  He has blessed me with this opportunity to tell others about Him and about how His hands have worked in my life. I have a desire to share my testimony. To share my story. If my story can bring any kind of hope to just one single person, then it hasn't been for naught.  I am excited, you guys.  I am excited to see how God is going to use me, use my story, for His kingdom!

That day/night in Gainesville has forever changed me.  Just the day before I was asking God to wash over me like the waves of the ocean.  And just like that - He answered.  

(click to enlarge)

This trip wasn't just "relaxing".  This trip was necessary. This trip brought about closure for me.  This trip brought a peace that's been missing. My heart feels whole again.     

*I generally prefer NIV, NKJV, or ESV translations of the Bible for the purpose of study - but there is something to me that feels so sacred and so intimate about the King James Version - so I like to read it while going back and forth with the other three.

turning pages

I'm writing my last blog post from our home in Oklahoma.  This is my last night in our house here in Oklahoma. Tomorrow I'll pack up this computer in the u-haul and on Wednesday the u-haul heads out and we begin moving into our new home. I can not even believe that it's here.

I've been in Missouri for the past few days.  I closed on our home this past Thursday and have been working like a chicken with her head cut off at our new house to get it ready to move in (with the amazing help of my dad, sister, and some incredible friends).  What a beautiful blessing to have a new home that we can make completely ours.  I will pause here, however, to say that re-doing kitchen cabinets is no joke and something that I don't ever plan to do again! Whew! I also joined a grief group at a local church in Missouri.  It's a small group, and though we've only met once so far - I can tell you that I really feel as if it's going to be a time of transformation for me.  I already feel a sense of camaraderie, a closeness, with these people.  I am looking forward to it.

But I digress.

The last two blogs that I wrote were hard.  They sucked.  They sucked for me to write and maybe they sucked for you to read.   

It was (obviously) hard to experience what I was experiencing - but it was also hard to feel what I was feeling while also trying to adequately explain what it was that I was going through.  By far the roughest days I've had.

I keep up with this blog, first, for myself.  It helps me to get things out.  And writing is something I've always loved to do.  I sometimes take pen to paper and journal that way - and then transcribe it here. I like to look back over my journey and be able to see where God is woven in and around it all. I also blog for those in my life who I don't get to speak to every day - and even those that I DO speak with every day.  It's hard to put my emotions into words sometimes and some blogs can take hours to write - others I just sit and let my fingers try to keep up with what my brain is spitting out.  But I want to give insight into my side of my grief journey and for you to also see God at work in my life.  I also keep this blog in the hopes that somewhere, some time, someone may read it and it may be of help. I have read so many different blogs of fellow widows - and they have helped me immensely to realize that everything I'm experiencing is normal.  So, I'm as transparent as I can be in hopes that if there is someone who is having a really rough time - maybe they won't feel so alone.  So there you have it - my hope is that this blog will honestly show you grief; the good, the bad, and the ugly. Grief changes a person - there is no doubt about that - but it's up to me how I let those changes shape my future.

All of that to say that I am in the final stages of packing our home. However, this trip here has been so much different than the last. I have had my music up, dancing around the house (trust me - it's less like dancing and more like Napoleon Dynamite meets a drunken llama), and a feeling of peace. That sweet, sweet peace that passes all understanding.  It's such a commonly repeated phrase "peace that passes all understanding" - but when you experience it first hand, it becomes so much more!

I ran across more of Kyle's things today - but instead of holding on to them and breaking down into a heap of tears - I was smiling at the memories attached.  I found myself actually chuckling out loud at some things. 

One year ago today (thanks Timehop) Kyle and I walked over to the Bluegrass and Chili festival.  Our house is right next to the open air arena that the festival is held at. Most nights we could sit on our front porch and hear it. It was a rare night out without our kids.  We took our lawn chairs, sat, and listened to the music. We had a great time!  There was a group there from my hometown of Branson, Missouri called the Cleverly's.  Please do yourself a favor and google them. I remember Kyle's laugh like it was yesterday. Most of the time he'd make a fist and kind of hold it up in front of his mouth and lean forward, shoulders up,  when he was really getting a good chuckle.  That night - I remember it so vividly.  We just had a care free time. The Bluegrass and Chili festival was this past weekend.  I, unfortunately, had to miss it this year - but these memories have really hung with me the past few days. But, not in a sad, somber way.  I have had these memories in a very thankful "man, we really had great times!" kind of way.

This is what I mean by God giving us a lifetime of memories in the short time we had together.  It's so easy to get caught up in the bitter reality of him being gone (and it's perfectly okay to "go there!) - but I have to go back to the very words that flew from my mouth at his memorial service - he would want for us to go on adventures, to make new memories, to LIVE! Kyle would want for me to find reasons to smile.  He would expect for me to laugh again. Would he understand the waves of grief that pop up and knock the wind out of me?  Ab-so-lutely!  However, he would expect that I wouldn't pack up and live in that cloud of grief either.

While I'm almost certain that the next wave of grief is on its way to find me - I am most certainly welcoming times like these where I can smile and laugh at the memories we had more than I cry at the memories that never were.  

I honest to goodness feel ready to turn this page; not turning the page on Kyle - but turning the page on our time in Oklahoma.

bricks

I've heard grief compared to many things; earthquakes, the ocean, a wave, a river, a snowflake, a roller coaster, a fingerprint, a valley, an ugly couch. And if someone were to ask me, in my opinion, which is more fitting, I'd only say "yes". 

Back in January, before the older two kids went back to school after Christmas break, I met with their school principal, counselors, and teachers all at one time to discuss what had happened.  I remember that the principal told me that she couldn't believe what happened - especially since I seemed so "together" when I had called to request the meeting.  I think that at that time I was in complete and utter shock. It's like my brain knew - obviously - I was there when he passed.  I saw it happen.  I knew he was gone.  There were no "what if's" left.  But my mind and my heart hadn't been convinced. So I think for the first few months after he was gone - I just walked around in a giant daze.  In that same meeting with the school personnel I remember one of the counselors telling me "don't be surprised if in a few months it all hits you like a ton of bricks". 

So I would just walk around...waiting for it to happen. 

And then there were times when I would have little "aftershocks" and would wonder if this is what the school counselor meant.

  

I remember discussing with my mom on more than one occasion that I worried about myself because I didn't feel like I was grieving in a way that was "normal".  I felt really sad at times.  But I was worried that I wasn't breaking down and that I was somehow suppressing something that would come back up years down the road - and I didn't want that to happen. 

But then the past 3 days happened.  

I went to lunch with one of my best friends yesterday. After the night I had with going through Kyle's clothes (especially his socks) I knew that I had to get out of our house for a little bit.  Lunch was a breath of fresh air - talking about kids and life over our good old faithful Chicken Tikka Masala.  And then I brought it up. The packing of our house.  I cried.  

Then after I got in my vehicle to leave - I cried some more.  

I went to one of my favorite stores to try to get my mind off of it - and felt so claustrophobic and like I was in some nightmare that I wanted to run away from.  I kept having memory after memory of Kyle hit my brain one after another like the poor kid in a snowball fight whom everyone is throwing their snowballs at - and I couldn't escape it. It was very real.  I got my car and cried again. I couldn't get away from it - no matter where I went, no matter what I did. I was trapped in my own thoughts and I couldn't stop it.

What in the flip was wrong with me??!

Not a dang thing!!

Here it was - here are those proverbial bricks by the ton.  

I can't be in our house without having a giant knot in my stomach. I can't pack more than a few things without memories flooding my brain and the tears flowing. But what I'm discovering is that this is all a part of the process.  My sister-in-law posted something lately about in order to heal - you have to feel.  And it is so, so true.

On the way home from lunch that day I was literally sobbing out to God.  I felt like I was drowning in this giant wave of grief that had found me.  I couldn't shake it. I texted my precious mother-in-law to see if I could come to her house for a bit.  Partly just to hold my baby boys and partly because Kyle's family are my connection to Kyle and I NEEDED to just be in their presence for a little while.  And I know that even though our grief journey's are all a little different from each other - they get it. I can not tell you how much it helped just walking into her house.  I could finally breathe a little. 

I was able to pack a little more last night - but made sure to avoid any of Kyle's things.

It's been much the same today with packing.  I'll pack a little and then get out of the house for a break.  I also got to visit with Kyle's grandparents and aunt today.  Oh-so-needed!

When I had lunch with Kristin yesterday I told her that when I first started packing a few weeks ago it wasn't that bad - it was pretty exciting.  But that was all stuff that was on the surface that we use all the time: towels, dishes, DVD's, kids stuff, etc.  But now we're down to the stuff that hasn't been touched since he's been gone.  I think this is where it's gotten so hard - I can remember the last time that certain video games were played were when he was here and we were having a family game night, or the last time his T.A.R.D.I.S. USB port was used was when he was here to use it and now I'm unplugging it to pack it away. I've put on each of his coat's and jackets - and soaked it in like his arms were around me again. And then - his still unopened Christmas presents.  With every thing there is a memory attached.

Some things I just toss in a box before my brain has any chance to stop and think about it. Other things I just sit on the ground with them in my hands, close my eyes, and allow my brain to take all the time it needs. I cry as much as I need to cry.  I sob to God as much as I need to sob.  I allow myself feel all the pain and heartache I need to instead of fighting against it.

Life has been SO hectic since Kyle passed away.  I rarely don't have at least one kid with me at all times.  If I don't have any kids then I'm cleaning or doing laundry or something mundane like that. Then let's throw in finishing school, graduating, having a baby, having a toddler break his leg and be in a cast for 6 weeks (yes that actually happened - which is why there was a big gap in blogging), buying a house and moving and all that that entails. I have not allowed myself to simply just sit in the sorrow for a little while. And the past couple of days I have been forced to do just that. No distractions to hold my attention away from the memories. And it's uncomfortable, and it makes my entire body ache with an indescribable pain. I have cried more in the past few days than I probably have in the past 8 months combined. I want nothing more than to run away from it - yet at the same time I want to feel every last bit of it. This is where my heart begins to start putting itself back together - or at least as together as it can be.  

The packing won't get finished this trip like I had planned - and I'll need to come back sooner than expected to try to finish. But, that's life - and that's okay.  I know that this will only get harder in the coming week with the loading of the U-haul and the finality of locking these doors and leaving this house for the final time.  But I am so grateful that the memories will be going with me.

  

socks

I am not immune to feelings of anger.  I realize that it can seem as if I have a good handle on what's happened to me - to my family.  And for the most part I feel as if I have done and am doing a pretty good job of moving forward.  But today, I am angry. And I'm not even trying to fight it right now.

I have been staying at my parents home three hours away in the town we are moving to waiting to close on our new house this coming week.  Don't get me wrong - I am completely excited to purchase a home to make our own - a place to make new memories.  I didn't want to be in the home we shared with Kyle at Christmas as I felt as if the memories would be crushing for all of us.

Today, I am at our old house working on packing.  Our older kids are with my parents as they have school this week.  Our youngest kids are with Kyle's family to visit.  So here I am - alone in this house filled with all kinds of memories.

I feel like I have subconsciously compartmentalized a lot of life over the past few months, and especially as I begin this journey of packing up our home to move.  I feel like this is what has kept me from really breaking down. But something happened and today the "excited to have a new start and new memories" me has met up with the "very sentimental, still raw" me and a perfect storm of anger- filled grief has ensued.

I can't pinpoint when it happened. But I feel this absolute despair in my chest.  I've found myself holding on to many of his things today and saying out loud "it wasn't supposed to be this way" and  "you were supposed to stay with me forever" and "why aren't you still here"

I have absolutely dreaded the day that I have to go through his clothes drawers.  Dreaded it.  I've gone through most of his other things over the course of the last 8 months - his books, art supplies, colognes, desk drawers, etc.  I'm not sure what it is about his clothes that I've been so anxious about but it was every bit as torturous, and sad, and unfair, and painful, and anxiety provoking, and maddening as I imagined it could be.  

I always used to joke with him about the number of socks that he owned.  And now the thing I joked with him about is an absolutely cruel, crushing reminder of my hard, harsh reality.  It felt completely wrong to just simply toss his socks. Of all things, that made it feel so real to me that he's not here - and he's not coming back.  

Socks. 

And I had to have an actual conversation with myself to not pack every pair of socks he owned to bring with me to our new house - though I did keep a few pairs for myself and also for our boys.

The process of packing is taking so much longer than it normally would because, you see, when I close this chapter at this house - one of the main characters from this chapter isn't coming with me (physically anyway) into my next chapter.  So I'm trying so hard to really take it all in - to make sure that my brain holds on to every last memory we've made here.