But God.

Grief is never really gone. 

It never really ends.

You don’t sit and have a good cry for twenty minutes and then continue on with no more grief like nothing ever happened.

You learn to live your life around your grief. 

There are so many moving parts to it, some are obvious.

When Kyle died, I knew I would be without my spouse, my partner. 
When Kyle died, I knew my kids would be without their dad – they would miss having their dad show up to little league games, roughhousing, doing “dude” things.
When Kyle died, I knew I had to make plans for missing out on an entire income. 
When Kyle died, I knew I would have to plan how I was going to navigate being thrust into single parenthood.

But then there are parts of grief that never even cross your mind until you’re in the middle of it.

One thing that I never really gave thought to was how my relationship with Kyle’s family would change.

But God.

Kyle has one of the most tightknit families that you could ever hope to know.  Kyle was so proud of his extended family.  His mom, brother, sisters, grandparents, aunt, uncle, and cousins are so close.  They remind me of a mafia family minus all the illegal activities.

This isn’t to say that their family is always sunshine and rainbows.  No.  They themselves would tell you they’ve had their moments.  But, as someone lucky enough to have insider access, I can tell you that they have mastered the art of communicating, working it out, and absolute love and protection for each other. At the end of the day you look out for your family.  It’s the kind of family bond that I pray that I can give my own kids. 

I remember the family Christmases at his grandparents’ house.  There would be giggling in the air from the kids running around, a huge spread of home cooked food, gifts, inside jokes, and games!  Not just any games, but games played for prizes – so you could count on some real competition!  Our first Christmas as a couple, Kyle and I played a form of the Newlywed Game with the other couples – we won! And Bingo. Bingo was a tradition.  Bingo could get straight up out of hand in the best of ways!

His grandparents have created this incredible legacy and it is inspiring to say the least.

But.  

After Kyle died I struggled to know where I would or should fit within their family.  Kyle and I didn’t divorce, so it’s not like there was a cutoff in that way where one spouse is now divorced from a family.  The love I have for Kyle is the same as it was the day he died.

The night he died, his mom and I were the last two to leave his room.  We left the hospital together.  Then, Kyle’s mom and siblings hunkered down with each other at his sister’s house.  I (with my parents and sister) went back to our home with our kids.  Looking back I really wish I would have been able to be with my kids in with their circle.  But I feel like that’s where my struggle with knowing how I should fit in with his family started.  I did go to a big family Christmas after he passed away.  For me it felt different, obviously.  My direct link to his family wasn’t there. But at the same time, I loved being around his entire family because where they are, he still is.  So there is a comfort with them. Deep down I just wanted to feel like I was still in the inner circle, still in the group texts, still in the direct line of big news. This is one of those places where I point out that, again, there is no guidebook to navigating any of this stuff after your spouse dies.

Then, I got myself in to a relationship that I should have never been in to begin with. 

Before I get into that story, let me just say that Kyle has now been gone just over 8 years.  He still pops into my head no less than a handful of times a day.  I say that with utmost honesty. Every single day!  Most of the time it’s because our boys have done something that reminds me of him - be it a face they’ve made, the inflection in their voice in a story they’re telling, their comedic timing, or something they’ve said immediately brings back a memory.  I do love that 8 years on he’s still a daily occurrence in our home.  A majority of the time the thoughts of Kyle don’t cause any big grief waves - he’s just a part of us and will always be a part of us, so the memories are just a natural part of our days. 

But God.

This man I was dating at the time didn’t like this concept and would often shut down any talk about Kyle. He would tell me that to continue to talk about him would only make things worse for my boys. He wanted me to refer to Kyle's family as something other than "my in-laws". He was so insecure in even the mention of Kyle, even if in passing. I remember him telling me, on Christmas Eve no less (if you’ll remember, Kyle passed away on Christmas day), that my kids and I just needed to “get over” Kyle being gone. 

I have a lot of patience for many things.  But that statement wrecked me and I seriously questioned if the way that I chose to keep Kyle such an active part of our lives was somehow going to make things worse for my boys. Deep down, I knew better, but he managed to create so much doubt.  

Those days (four years worth) and that relationship were easily some of the lowest parts of my life in widowhood. You’ll notice a gap in my time without blogging. That was it. That was four years, off and on, that I don’t get back. 

But God.

I am thankful that not only did God pluck me out of that relationship but that He has been at work restoring me.

Looking back I can see how during that time, I inadvertently pulled myself away from Kyle’s family.  I was so focused on toeing the line for this guy that I did direct damage to the ties that really mattered. (I’ll pause here to say that the boys continued to see Kyle’s family.  I did not try to create any form of distance with them). 

Only two people in Kyle’s family ever met him.  

It was actually a very long, concerned text from one of Kyle’s sisters after she met him that stuck in my head and started the slow, s-l-o-w unravel of that relationship.  She doesn’t know it (if she reads this, she will now)but even though I held on for so much longer than I should have - her words were always in the back of my mind. 

At the time she sent it to me, I just kind of shook it off. I had already felt distanced from Kyle’s family.  

So, I put up a wall.   

She had very, very real concerns.  As she should have.  But, she was being every bit of the sister that she knew to be – she was looking out for her brother’s little boys. But, I feel like she was also looking out for me.  

She planted seeds and God used other things along the way to water those seeds and eventually I woke up and realized that I could not ever be held to not being free to talk about Kyle.  Not only do my boys deserve to hear about their dad as much as they want to, but I should feel safe in talking about him.  The love I have for him is there, will always be there, as it should be!

After that relationship ended, I started realizing how distant I felt from Kyle’s family. 

It hurt. 

It still hurts.

As much as my boys are a little piece of Kyle here on earth, so is his family!

I was embarrassed at how easily I was veered off of the path I had been on.  I wanted to be able to spend my life with someone, but I questioned my own ability to be able to do that. Maybe the scenario I had in my head of being able to love and be loved by someone who understood and even encouraged the love I still carry for Kyle didn’t actually exist.  And I couldn’t, wouldn’t again be persuaded to try to squash it.  So, maybe a relationship wasn’t in the cards for me.

But God!

I met someone in the summer of 2022. 

I told him immediately that I was a widow.  So he knew from the outset. On our first date I brought Kyle up.  It was a funny story just after our first kiss involving a cardinal.  

My knee-jerk reaction was thinking that he was going to be put-off that I brought up my late husband.  So I told him “hey you have to let me know if it bothers you if I talk about Kyle”. 

Without even missing a beat he says “why would that bother me?  I want to know about him!”  He followed that with explaining that losing a spouse to divorce versus losing a spouse to death are two completely different things – when your spouse dies you don’t just stop loving them, nor should you.  He said that he understood that I would always have a place in my heart that belongs to Kyle.  He also told me that he’d feel honored if he’d ever got the chance to meet Kyle’s family some day.

I sat there amazed at how I felt so safe in that moment.  

I realize that words are just that, words.  And time would be what would really confirm if what he just told me was actually what he believed or just words he was saying in an effort to try to woo me.

Since that day – I’ve talked about Kyle, he’s asked questions about Kyle, the boys talk to him about Kyle, he talks to the boys about Kyle. He asks about Kyle’s family – wanting to make sure he knows faces and names and birth orders and the way the family tree branches and family stories. 

And there isn’t a single time that he has acted the least bit put-off, annoyed, or insecure about hearing about him. Before Christmas came around that first years, he sat me down to just talk to me about how that holiday affects me so that he would know.  And he asks how he can best support me when my heart is heavy.   When the pockets of grief come knocking on my door, he’s the first person there ready to hug me and listen to me talk about it. 

I had known shortly after we started dating that I wanted Kyle’s family to meet him.  At that time, I felt as if Kyle's family and I weren’t superiorly close.  But, I was excited that I had found someone who just let me be unapologetically who I was – grief and all!  Not to mention, I knew I wanted Matt to be in our boy's lives. So, I wanted their nod of approval.  It felt almost as important, if not moreso, than my own family’s approval. 

Just about the only time that they’d all be together was Christmas.

It’s such a bittersweet holiday and I didn’t know how they felt about me dating (especially after the dumpster fire that was my prior relationship) and I especially wasn’t sure about bringing a new guy around on a holiday that has all kinds of emotions attached to it. 

But 5 months after we started dating, on Christmas, I brought him with me to take the boys to Kyle’s sister’s house.  A majority of the people who meant the most to Kyle were there.  I was so proud for them to meet him.  And I was equally as proud for him to meet Kyle’s family.  I wanted him to witness firsthand the family in which Kyle came from – so he’d have a much better understanding as to who Kyle was. It’s all connected. 

It went so well – and afterwards I didn’t get a long, concerned text from Kyle’s sister.  I got the opposite.  They welcomed him, talked with him, and made a place for him at their dinner table. They reached out to me either that night or days later to in one way or another give me the nod.  

But God.

It’s one of those very complex times that comes with grief because I would have loved for Kyle to have been there to see how welcomed his family made Matt feel. And if I’m being honest, I know that Kyle would like Matt.  I won’t sit here and say that they are so similar.  They aren’t. Which I’m thankful for.  I wasn’t looking for someone to replace Kyle.  No one could have ever replaced him!   I am not the same person that I was when Kyle was here.  Grief changes a person.  It has grown me in ways that I never expected! But I know that Kyle would appreciate how patient and delicate that Matt has been with me in navigating the emotions that have come with moving forward in this way.

Matt and I were married 8 months ago – in July 2023. 

(side note: I have an entire blog post about Matt that sits in my drafts from July 2023 before we got married.  I'll work on polishing that one up and post it!) 

I actually never thought that I would ever date again let alone get married again.  

But God! 

No doubt that God gave Matt to me and my kids.

I remember right after we were married, my youngest son ran down the stairs at home yelling to my oldest son “WE HAVE A DAD NOW!!!!!”.  They love Matt.  Matt loves them.  They say often that they have a dad in heaven and now they have a dad here, too!  It is work (lots of work and even more grace) to blend families and we are far...FAR...from having it figured out – every day we’re learning a little more about how to do it.  But, I have such peace with Matt – so I know that he is an answer to many prayers.

In the same time that I started dating Matt, Kyle’s sister (the sister that sent "the" texts) also met a man and they were engaged.  

She asked my boys to be in her wedding.  

Not only that, but she invited myself, Matt, and our entire family to her wedding.  I know that my boys were so excited to be getting another uncle (they love her now-husband!).  But, I was excited for the chance to be able to see many of Kyle’s family that I haven’t gotten to see in many years! For me, it was going to feel like a family reunion.

What I didn’t expect was the churning up of grief that her wedding would bring.

The wedding itself was so beautiful!  It was simple, but meaningful. 

The day before the wedding, she had asked me to have the boys to the church to start getting ready by noon.  Then she said “and I’ll need you all there at 1 for family photos”. 

I was stunned.  

Speechless. 

I did not expect at all to be included in family photos.

This was the sister that poured out her heart to me in those texts during my last relationship. Her influence on me means far more than she knows. 

I spent the morning and early afternoon feeling a little out of place; not knowing where I needed to be as far as family was concerned.  As we (Matt, myself, and my other children) were making our way to the sanctuary for pictures, I saw Kyle’s grandparents.  I haven’t seen them in, maybe, 5 or 6 years or more (that I remember).  I hugged his grandad.  And we had a brief conversation and I got to introduce him to Matt.  I was so excited to see him! Our oldest son is named after him, and for good reason.  This man is a true man of God.  He’s just one of the best humans I know! Being able to see him again meant so much.  So, so much!

Then I turned around to see his grandmother.  This precious woman has always been so fun, so full of grace, and has just one of the most welcoming smiles of anyone I’ve known! I remember the look of pride on Kyle’s face when he got to introduce her to his firstborn son, her great-grandson. 

I hugged her. 

And as I heard her sweet voice say my name, the tears started. 

Oh my gosh how I’ve missed this entire family!

I glance over and see his aunt next to us. 

When Kyle was in the ICU and we didn’t realize how bad things were, his aunt had come and taken myself and Kyle’s mom to lunch.  It was one of the few times that I left the hospital and it had been a relief to be outside of those walls even if just for a few hours. His aunt had always felt so much like my own aunt.  She was always ready to give an encouraging word or just share a fun story about Kyle.  To be able to hug her again after so many years was so good.

We go into the sanctuary to be present for photos.  I mainly helped with corralling my youngest son so they could focus on getting through photos.  But then I heard the photographer “Matt, Julie and family – you’re on deck!”

........I stopped in that moment - wondering if I had actually heard what I thought I heard.

Not only was his sister including me in a family photo – but she was also including my new husband! This meant far more to me than she may ever really know.

But God.

Already there were a plethora of emotions hitting me for so many reasons, but then the ceremony started. 

Our boys had very important jobs. Our oldest had the duty of escorting a couple of very important people to their seats.  Our youngest was part of the ring guard and he was to carry a briefcase with the rings inside and deliver it directly to the bride and groom during the ceremony. 

The music began and the double doors in the back of the sanctuary swung open. 

I looked back. 

I gasped.

The tears were far too many for my eyes to contain.

It was our oldest son and his great-grandmother walking down the aisle. 

But, my brain saw Kyle and his grandmother.

I haven’t laid my eyes on Kyle in over eight years.  I’ve only had the same photos to look at.  But for those moments it was like he was here on earth all over again. It was like I was seeing him full of life again. The way he was so delicate with his grandmother.  The seriousness he had towards the job at hand. The way he smirked when he caught my eye.  It was Kyle.  And my heart was simultaneously swept away with joy and completely crushed.

After the ceremony we were walking out the sanctuary and I heard my name from behind me.  I turn around to see more family that I haven’t seen, probably, since Kyle’s memorial service!  One of his cousins, I had never even met.  I introduced myself “I’m Julie, I’m Kyle’s wife....well...widow”.  And in the back of my head I realized that that was the first time that I’ve introduced myself that way.

It’s such a paradox! 

I am Kyle’s wife,
I am Kyle’s widow. 
But I am very much Matt’s wife.

There are no hard and fast rules with this.  And over eight years in I’m still learning.  It’s ever-evolving.

We mingled with family.  I got to introduce Matt to people he’s only ever heard me talk about.  I was so glad that he was getting to match faces with names.  And they were all so welcoming to him.

Once the reception was winding down we decided to go ahead and head out.  I made sure that I found everyone I could to hug and say goodbyes to. 

One of the last two people that I found were Kyle’s aunt and grandmother.  His aunt gave me the biggest hug.  I told her I loved her so much and how happy I was to finally get to see them after all these years.  We both discussed how blown away by how much our oldest son looks just like Kyle. 

Then I hugged his grandmother.

She gave me the tightest hug.  We pulled away for a second, but she held on to my hands and in such a soft, gentle, thoughtful voice, she said:

“I love you Julie.  I always loved you as family and you’ll always be family”

Words that I don’t think she knew I needed to hear.  
Words that I don't think I knew I needed to hear. 
But words that resonated with me and repeated over and over in my head on the drive home. 

But God.

I know that I was quiet on the drive home.  My brain was flooded with so many thoughts.  I was hit with regrets from the past eight years:

I wish I would have voiced more of my feelings/hurts to his family. 
I wish I would have been strong enough to stand up to my ex and push him away instead of them.
I wish I would have fought more to be a part of their family. 

But I was also flooded with so much joy at how, for this weekend, I felt like I was a part of their family again.  

And it made Kyle feel so close! 

Somewhere along the drive home, a wave of grief made its way to me.  And when we got home and got the kids unloaded and squared away, I snuck time to go sit in the car and just cry - a full-on ugly cry. 

I missed Kyle so much.

And paradoxically it made me so incredibly thankful for Matt.

He is such a safe place for me to process through grief when it hits. 
He is a rock for me when I need to be able to let my tears talk.
He loves me, but he also, without hesitation, leaves space for Kyle to be there.

But God!

God has known all along what I needed.  

I do hope that this is the beginning of being able to restore relationships with Kyle's family.  But, in the mean time I will relish this past weekend and all of the mending for me that came from it.

As I've said so many times before, the grief journey has no end.  

I'm not working towards a "finish line". 
It's not a race where once I figure it all out - the grief will never hit again.  

It's fluid.
It ebbs and flows.

I have no control over when and where it happens, but I can control who I allow in these spaces with me. If my last relationship taught me anything it was that not everyone in your journey with you is FOR you!  

But God. 

I took a detour.  

But God, in His infinite glory, used that detour to grow me and make me that much more wise about this journey He's made for me.

consider it joy

Two years ago I watched as my husband’s heart pounded out its last beats.

Two years ago I was being thrust onto a path that I did not ask for nor did I choose for myself.  

Two years ago God was working behind the scenes in my life in a way that I could have never imagined; writing a story that I never thought possible.

There will never be a day when those scenes from Kyle’s last days here on earth don’t replay in my head, especially around the time that it happened. It was traumatic and life-altering. His heart stopped beating - yet mine kept going.

However I’ve noticed that as I look back on my life two years ago, not only do I remember the crushing pain that came with being forced to say goodbye, but I can also see the hand of God surrounding me, holding me, and creating a way for me.

I was recently talking to a friend of mine about the goodness of God.  It gets so easy to get caught up in the day-to-day of life’s disappointments that we fail to look at the overall picture to see where God has been and is at work.

It would be so easy for me to sit here and choose to be miserable at the fact that my husband isn't here.  It would be easy for me to choose to be angry that my children are without their dad.  It would be easy for me to choose to be bitter at those around me who have a partner to do life with, whose lives continued on even though my life felt at a standstill. And trust me, I have days where I struggle to fight off the temptation to get caught up in listing every thing that I wish I had.

But. When I find myself knee-deep in self-loathing I can always look to one fact to bring me back to a place of joy.

God has always been faithful to me! Always! 

I look back over the entirety of my thirty-seven years and I can see the different times where God absolutely carried me. I can see the times where God was working like a master stage-hand; gathering and planning things behind the curtain that I would need for the next scene without me even knowing.

But the past two years have been especially meaningful. 

If you'll recall, in the week after Kyle passed, I wrote about a letter I had received back in 1999 from my Grandma Esther. In this letter she had written to me about the loss of her own husband at a young age.  In her letter she wrote:

"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"

I remember reading these words after Kyle passed and being in awe of my grandma's faith. She was one of the most faithful, graceful women that I've known and I always aspired to be able to be just a fraction of the Christ-follower that she was. 


One of my friends actually made a wooden placard with my grandma's handwriting of that entire paragraph on it. It's hanging in my living room and I stop to read it often. 


As I stopped to read it this past week something occurred to me and it brought a smile to my face. 

Two years later and I realize that I could sit here today and write those exact words myself.

I stopped in my living room and marveled at the way God has encompassed me these past two years. Not only that, but I was filled with gratitude at how far He has brought me.

I dearly love(d) Kyle.  

And I really, honestly, and truly thought I could never live without him...

Satan would love for me to stop there. End of story. 


But, here's where the grace of God comes in.


I never thought I could live without him...but God has shown me otherwise. 


God has been so close and so protective.  Not only of me but of my children.  


God has been so helpful. So present. So near! 


And it has been an incredible experience to have God to depend on solely. 


The first year after Kyle passed my life felt like it was being flipped all kinds of ways. There were some high's and there were a lot of low's.


Within a nine month period: my husband died, I finished my undergraduate career, had a baby, three weeks after my baby was born, my toddler broke his femur and had to be in a half-body cast, I bought a home, moved myself & 4 children to a different state, and then my toddler fractured his ankle. This doesn't include all of the little pop-up things such as illness, kid's adjusting to their new normal, bills, and other mundane grown-up stuff.

It seemed like every time there was a little bit of peace in my life, I still couldn't quite relax because I was just waiting for the next ball to drop.


But then something amazing happened.


God caused me to slow down. 


Don't get me wrong, life was still life complete with mountaintops and valleys.  But God caused ME to realize that I had to slow down.

I started feeling like God was gently pulling on me.  He was trying to pull me back in to His arms.  I know I have written before about how I invited God into my grief journey, but I had stopped inviting Him into the rest of my journey. 


God helped me to take a step back and realize that I needed to re-center myself with Him. 


So, I vowed to spend 2017 working on myself, by myself, for myself. 

And what an amazing experience that has been!


I wanted to become the healthiest I've ever been emotionally, spiritually, physically, and mentally.  I put off my desire to apply to graduate school and decided to use 2017 as a year to take a proverbial deep breath and re-focus.


It's been during this time of introspection that I've been able to look back over my journey through widowhood thus far and see how God is woven throughout it.  And I also feel like God has given me tidbits into the future that awaits.


And it has brought me so much joy. 

I feel like in this past year God has not only restored all of my broken pieces but He has brought me to a better place than I have ever known before.  

I don't feel like I'm the same person that I was even two years ago.

I could have very well chosen to stay in a constant "woe is me" state of mind.  I could have chosen to walk around expecting everyone to feel sorry for me and take pity on me.  And I'm sure that people would have.  

But, at the end of the day, I have chosen to find the joy in my circumstances. 

I feel as if choosing to be angry, be upset, be miserable are all ways of not giving my  circumstances over to God.  And if I  don't give my  circumstances to God, then how can He work on them? I like having control over situations as much as the next person. I'm a mom; we're used to having control and being able to schedule and plan our our days.  That part just comes naturally.  But, there came a point where I realized that I couldn't have control AND have faith. God knows the end from the beginning.  He has insight that I certainly will never have.  He has known about my life and where it's going to go long before he ever formed me in my mother's womb.  So, I have to relinquish that control over to Him and trust fully that He will fulfill His promises to me. 

That's not to say that it's easy to just give it to God.  And there are some things in my life that I am having to daily pass back over to Him. But, I realized that whether I'm choosing joy or choosing misery - the time will still continue to pass.  Do I want to pass my time looking at everything that has gone wrong in my life?  Or do I want to pass my time being able to look at all the places in my life where God has made himself so abundantly clear?

I want for my life to bring God glory.  I want for this incredible story that He has written and is writing (valleys, mountain tops, and everything in between) to be used for His purpose.  I want to be able to look back on this part of my life in a few years with awe at how God was behind the scenes working even when I wasn't aware.  

It's so easy to praise God on the mountain tops.  But we are also supposed to praise in in the valley. 

In ALL things give thanks!

I have come to the end of 2017 feeling stronger in many ways.  I know God on a much deeper level.  I know myself more completely than I ever have before.  I feel more like a whole person on my own than what I ever imagined possible. 

And trust me, it hasn't necessarily been easy.  I have had many valley's along the way.

But, I know that God will bless my efforts and He will certainly continue to bless my journey.

the best of me

I apologize in advance if this blog branches off into all different directions.  I don't really have a set topic in mind that I wanted to talk about - but my heart has felt the need to release for a while now and so I knew I wanted to come here to let it do just that.

My laptop bit the big one and so writing hasn't been as easy to do as I have to pen it by hand and then transfer it to the big computer downstairs as I get a free minute.

It's been four months since I last wrote. That seems like an indicator that there is a healing of sorts that's been taking place.  

One thing I do know as a fact is that there will never be a day that I can or will declare that I am officially healed of all the heartache of my husband dying. There will never be a complete healing of my heartache until the day that I see Kyle again.  And honestly I don't wish for there to be a complete healing either.  Feeling this heartache in the background of my otherwise chaotic life is a reminder of the love that is still and will always be there for him.  The grief journey is just that - it's a journey.  There isn't an end destination (other than heaven itself) so no matter how my life moves forward, grief will always remain.

You may recall that last October I had quite the experience on a trip to Florida.  If you have a chance to click this link to give it a read (or a re-read) - please do.  It may be one of my favorite blogs to go back and read because I can feel the restoration that took place during that trip every time I read it. 

It was during that trip to Florida (more specifically to Ben Hill Griffin Stadium in Gainesville) that I felt Kyle forever sealed in my heart.  I have tried and tried to figure out how to put into words what I mean when I say that.  So I'm going to attempt to do just that.

When it comes to the average age that women become widows - I am an outlier; I am in the minority.  I consider myself fairly young.  And even according to the social security administration I am too young to be a widow - I concur. I was 35 when I assumed my title as "widow". 

I can not see myself being alone for the rest of my life. 

There I said it.

I miss the companionship.  I miss having that person that I could tell anything and every thing to.  My life is hectic.  But at the end of the day once homework is finished, kids are in bed, dishes are done, and laundry is folded - it's just me and this staggering peace in my home that I didn't ask for. I'm having to learn what to do in that peace.  But, I surely miss having my person.

I'm not dating anyone.  I'm not in a relationship.  I haven't gone on any dates since Kyle passed. 

But, when I had that experience at Florida Field last October - I felt like Kyle was with me.  I felt like he was giving me permission to live, to find happiness, to feel joy...to move forward; and not just where relationships are involved - but in life in general.  

And it was during that time that I felt like Kyle and all of the love that I have for him was sealed into my heart in a place where it would always be protected and would never be able to be touched.

Back when my oldest son played baseball he was given the game ball for one of his games.  His team had won that game and part of the reason was because my son had a double RBI.  His coach wrote the date on the ball as well as my son's stats for the game and all of the coaches signed it.  

That ball is SO special to all of us, especially to my son.  So, I bought a glass case for it to be displayed.  Because it's in a glass case we can look at it, read the words on it, reminisce about that day - but at the same time it is protected from any outside dangers - dust, water, my four-year-old's creative mind...haha! It sits on a shelf so that should he get any other awards, we can add those to the shelf as well. But, there will never be another Roughnecks game ball.

That is like this seal that I'm speaking of around my heart.  It is there to protect this love that I have for Kyle.  It keeps it safe.  It's still very much accessible, but I don't have to worry about anything happening to it. 

At the same time my heart has still has love in it to give.  I think I've mentioned it here before but I can't imagine not being able to love again in this lifetime.  Whether God has that already in place as a part of His plan for my life or not - I can't say.  But, it's also something that I have discovered that I could be open to.

I'm going to be open for a second; that seems to be the general theme of my entire blogging history.  But, a few months ago I made an account on a dating site.  I know, I know. It really wasn't with the intent to find someone - but more or less to see what kind of proverbial fish there are out there.  I closed it down almost as quickly as I signed up.  It became quite obvious to me that venturing into any dating world on this side of grief is going to be completely different from venturing into the dating world as a divorcee.  

And that is what makes me completely hesitant.

One big reason?  I honestly think it is going to be difficult for any man (who isn't a widower himself) to fully grasp the concept that I will always love Kyle, that Kyle will be talked about on a regular basis; not only for my sake but for the sake of my kids.  I can't really say that I would fault someone for not being able to understand that idea,  I'm sure I wouldn't have be able to fully grasp it either before I was in these shoes.

So this has led to God really working in me to work ON me.  

My focus at this time in my life is on me. 

When Kyle first died I was focused so much on our kids.  I wanted to make sure that their needs were being met.  There was nothing wrong and everything right with that mindset.  I needed to make sure that my children were able to transition into this new normal without Kyle and I knew that I could put myself on the back burner. And that I did. I let things on my end go downhill.

Early 2017 I really started doing some introspection.  I started trying to examine who I am, what my goals are.  When Kyle was alive we had goals as a married couple that intertwined with our individual goals.  But, as it happens when life changes - goals change. And I realized that my goals needed an update to fit my present and future circumstances.  

One thing that I decided to do was to start a bucket list of sorts.  Not a list of things that I want to do before I die - but a list of adventures to adventure while I am single.  It's a list of things to stretch my comfort levels, to push my boundaries, and to really be able to explore what it is that makes me, me.  

Some of the things on my list are easily doable such as go to a movie alone.  That may sound like a walk in the park but do you know that I had never been to a movie by myself in my entire 37 years? I already crossed that one off my list back in May and it was actually rather enjoyable.  

Other things that may be a little harder are things such as going out to eat at a nice restaurant alone.  I'm trying to figure out exactly how awkward that might be. 

Others include taking a conceal/carry class, do a 5K, sit in a coffee shop for an afternoon, take a weekend trip alone, etc.  I'm still adding here and there to my list.

I may very well never date again.  So I figure that this is training me to be able to do typical "date" things by myself. I want to get to the point that I'm completely comfortable with that.  

Another huge part of my focus has been on finding a church.  I hadn't been to church since before Kyle passed away.  I tried a couple of churches here and there over the past year, but about four months ago landed in a church at not only I felt at home in - but 75% of my kids love! :) My youngest is in an "attached to mom no matter what" phase so he's having to learn to be comfortable in the church nursery. But, this church was a big answer to prayer for us.  

Kyle and I had previously had discussions about the type of church we wanted our children to grow up in.  We had such fond memories of our youth group days and a church with a strong youth group similar to our own experiences was high on the list.  This church that we've been going to has a large youth group and as I read through their activities and missions - it reminded me so much of my own youth group and also of how Kyle would recall his youth group.  It has been a weight lifted off of my heart to find a place like this to grow with my family.  

And bonus - going to "big people church" alone is stretching out those "single wings" of mine.

One part of my grief class talked about taking care of your health. It was highly recommended that we see our doctors, get regular check up's and stay on top of our health.  Grief can do all sorts of things to your health that you may not even be aware of and I have four children to raise by myself.  

So, my health has been shifted to one of my top priorities.  

I found a doctor last October to go see for a physical.  Luckily my genetics have helped out with me being a pretty healthy human and all of my blood work and vitals came back normal - except for my weight which I already knew wasn't "normal".

So at the end of June of this year I started really zoning in on developing healthier eating habits as well as getting myself moving. I'm not sure what shifted with me - but I've hit a stride with my health that makes me so excited and often makes me say I don't even know who I am anymore. haha!

I'm down about 25 pounds since then (but not stopping there...), I am at my lowest weight as an adult,  and have remained faithful to going on a walk/jog four times per week at least. 

I saw my doctor again this month for my annual physical.  All of my "normal rage"  numbers from last year have all come down even more.  He said "whatever you're doing, keep doing it!". 

I have so much more energy and I can tell that overall my mood has seen a big shift. I feel so much joy in knowing that I'm taking care of myself. 

I feel myself getting stronger physically and mentally. Becoming healthier - exercising regularly - has been one of the best medicines I have found for my grief.

This has lead to me wanting to sign up to do a 5K next year as well as participate in what they call the Warrior Dash in May. 

I have clung to the mantra of "becoming the best version of myself" and I have determined to do just that.  

The song that Kyle and I danced to at our wedding was called Best of Me by Michael Buble.  It's a beautiful song about a person who had a failed relationship the first go 'round and how they found their "one more chance" and hope that they saved the best of themselves for their new love.  

Sometimes I feel guilty that Kyle didn't get this version of me; I truly feel like I'm morphing into this version of myself that I've never even known.  At the same time - I know that I gave him the best version of myself as I knew how.  And even still he is inspiring me, pushing me, to keep going on this journey that I'm on.  I hear him in the back of my head telling me he's proud of me for working so hard, and with that smirk on his face saying "I told you so".  

Do I still grieve?  Yes!  And I will until the day I die.  Grief doesn't ever just "go away".  The only difference is that I'm learning more how to cope when it does come; to embrace it.  The best thing I've learned is not to fight it; give in to the grief when it comes knocking.  

I no longer wish for the grief to just leave.  It is a reminder of the presence that Kyle still has in my heart.  Instead I have learned to appreciate the grief and the reason it is there.  

It's there because of the amount of love that I had and will always have for Kyle. 

one last step

I'm sitting outside, pen and paper in hand.  I've lost the cord to my laptop so I'm doing this old school style and will transfer it to the computer later.

I wish all of you could sit here and take this in with me; sunset, the sounds of summer (crickets and frogs), watching lightning bugs pop on and off all over the backyard.  It really is almost magical.

I wanted to share a few things that have been on my heart as of late. 

A couple of months ago I was in a dark place.  I'm not kidding. It was such a horrible place that I knew I was going to need to seek professional help by way of counseling.  A few weeks into this place that I had found myself, I had actually begun contacting a few counselors to discuss appointment times and fee information.  And I had left a message with my regular doctor to schedule an appointment to come in and speak to him about the possibility medication. I've been in the dumps before.  This was something different.

(I want to pause here to say something.  Guys, there is not a thing in the world that is wrong, or humiliating, or embarrassing, or weak about seeking mental professional help.  If you feel as if you have a broken leg - you don't sit at home waiting for it to heal up, you go to a doctor.  The same is true about mental health.  If you feel like you are on that ledge and that you need help, please ask for help!  If you feel ashamed or embarrassed - I will go with you and hold your hand!  I am not even kidding! I think there is a disconnect in our society today and most definitely a stigma that goes with mental illnesses; people are seen as broken or damaged and when someone is depressed their friends and family think that it's easy to just "snap out of it" or "think positive thoughts and it'll go away" or "just count your blessings".  In some cases, sure.  But, in cases of genuine depression, those statements do nothing and may even make things worse. I have no shame in saying that after my daughter was born I suffered from un-diagnosed post-partum depression and post-partum anxiety. From there I dealt with anxiety and panic attacks almost daily for nearly six months and then off and on for over 9 years.  I was on medication [which helped me tremendously!] for six months.  I will tell my story any time and anywhere with zero shame if it can help even ONE single person to not feel the stigma that can be attached to mental health issues! It was because of my own battles with post-partum depression that I knew pretty quickly that what I was currently experiencing wasn't just from grief or being "down in the dumps")

I was mad at everything. I was mad at friends who still have husbands for still having husbands. I was mad at people who were going on vacation for getting to go on vacation.  I was mad at people who were losing weight for losing weight.  I was mad at people with jobs for having careers.  I was mad at women who could do a perfect contour on their face.  I was mad at moms who were making healthy meals for their families. I was mad at people who seemed to have it all together and still had a couple of hours left in the day for themselves.  I mean if anything was going the least bit right in someone else's life - I was mad because of it.

The anger quickly gave way to bitterness which gave way to absolute despair.  I was at the point that I didn't even like myself anymore. 

I don't know when it started or why it started. My guess is that it was a grave that I was slowly digging - shovel by shovel - each day for who knows how long.  I just know that one day I felt like I was in the middle of a sinkhole filled with quicksand and no clue how I got there.  I was suffocating on the inside.  I felt so claustrophobic in my own thoughts. I spent most days in whatever clothes I had slept in the night before, not sure how many days passed between showers, and I cried - a lot - many times a day.  I didn't want to leave the house and some days even walking to the mailbox felt like a chore.   

I was pretty good at hiding it from most people. 

On the one hand I didn't want to let anyone down.  See - when people comment or act amazed at how I handle my chaotic life - internally it sets a standard that I feel the need to live up to.  I felt like if people knew that I was falling into this pit - then somehow I would appear as a failure in their eyes, and the last thing I want to do is to look like a failure to anyone. See, I have huge hopes of being able to play a part in transforming the lives of others.  If I myself am failing at transforming my own life then how could I possibly help anyone else?

Also, I didn't want to bother people with my issues. 

And, honestly, I didn't want to hear people advising me to "cheer up" or "it'll get better soon" or "I'll pray for you". 

I was engulfed in such hopelessness and I knew it was far greater than a simple "think about the good things you have in life" would help. 

It wasn't until I had been completely consumed by this depression for a few weeks that I reached out to my cousin, my sister, and my mom. Each have their own life experiences and I knew that I wouldn't get the old, run of the mill "chin up" talk from them.  I told them I knew I needed help.  I told them that I can only blame so much on hormones. And each one of them immediately encouraged me to seek help; go to my doctor and set up an appointment with a counselor. 

I didn't pray.  I didn't "cry out to God" to help me.  I just lived in the misery. 

I started keeping a hand-written journal about three weeks into it.  I wish I could offer some deep reason for keeping it, but I wanted to look for patterns and I also knew that should I see a counselor it would be beneficial to know what I was feeling day-to-day.  When I read those journal entries today, I can literally feel the hopelessness in my words.

4/30/17 "some days I feel like I really have a handle on things - those days are few and far between though.  For the most part I just really can't stand myself"

I remember one day being consumed with sadness that this was the life I was given.  See the thing is that to any other person, I have a great life!  Yes, my husband died and that sucks.  But, I'm healthy, I have four healthy children. I own my own home, live on a beautiful plot of land that is filled to the brim with gorgeous flowers and a breathtaking view.  I am able to provide for my little family.  I'm able to pay our bills every month and not wonder if this will be the month that I have to choose between electricity or water.  So there weren't really any big issues with my life that warranted me falling into this sadness.  Nothing!

Comparison is the thief of all joy and I can say with zero doubts that it literally robbed any and all joy that I had.  It was a double-edged sword because I would have these deep regrets of knowing that this was my life and the life that my children had to live.  I played the "what-if" game a lot! When I would allow myself to feel that regret then I would feel so guilty because I knew so many people have so much less than I do or have been forced to overcome so much more than I have.  So I'd feel mad at myself for allowing myself to feel so sullen about the life I have.  Wash, rinse, repeat. 

This was so much more than grief.  In fact I was pretty sure that this was actually not part of my grief journey at all.  This was a new beast in and of itself.

I feel like I met my grief head-on.  I knew enough to know that I needed to make sure I was addressing my grief and not pushing it down only for it to resurface later.  And I feel like I have and am succeeding in that. I have learned so many great coping skills for handling my grief.  But, I have failed in taking care of my relationship with God outside of my grief. And so when I started falling into depression it was confusing to me.  I wanted so badly to blame this depression on my grief from my husband's death because that would make sense; it would have been so much easier to rationalize - plus it wouldn't put the blame on me. 

But, it wasn't the grief - it was me!

I invited God into every part of my grief but I had stopped inviting Him into every other place in my life.  I was picking and choosing where God was allowed.  He was definitely okayed to come into the grieving part of my heart.  But, every other door was a no-go. 

God, no doubt, has held me so close in the past year and a half.  I have made no secret out of the fact that I know that it is God who has carried me through my grief. 

He isn't the one who moved away from me. He has always been so faithful to me and my little family. (when you get a second watch this short little video from Craig Groeshel of Life.Church - he pretty much hits the nail on the head!)

Let me be transparent for a second. 

I have not had a one-on-one, intimate relationship with the One who created me in years.  I have not regularly attended church in over four years (with the exception of Kyle's memorial service, and a visit or two to a church here in town while looking for a new church to attend). 

I've prayed from time to time - mainly in times of distress.  I don't remember the last time I had just sat and simply talked to God.  I had allowed myself to step away from God while at the same time being upset at all of the blessings in other people's lives.  I have missed it - I have missed Him. 

I knew I had to get back to God. I wasn't wanting to throw myself at God in hopes that He would heal me from this sinkhole I was in (yes, I know He's able - I also know that God puts doctors and counselors into the positions they're in for a reason as well!) - but I knew that God would be the best "right-hand Man" I could have while I journeyed through it.

So, one day I just decided to do it.

I started using what once was a journal about all of these dark emotions as a journal about my daily time with God.  Some are just short entries about what I'm doing that day along with anything meaningful that I get out of my time. They aren't pages and pages long.  I just wanted something so I could look back and be able to see how God's working. The transformation in the entries the past four weeks has been amazing to me and I can see with my own eyes how God is peeling back all of these dead layers of my heart and causing life to once again spring up! 

I almost feel like a "new Christian" and I guess in some ways I am. I'm having to re-learn how to have a relationship with God - not just praying when I'm desperate.  I had gotten so far away from Him that I had forgotten how to just talk to Him. 

I had no clue where to start with reading my Bible or even hearing God's voice. I remember when I was a kid I was determined I was going to read the Bible from cover to cover.  I started in Genesis.  And stopped reading somewhere in Numbers. Ha! That was not necessarily a plan I was going to try out this go 'round.

I pulled out all of my daily devotional books.

I have four total. 

One actually belonged to Kyle, so it feels right to have it in the mix.

They each have blurbs every day along with Bible verses.  Some days the blurbs speak straight to something that I've just prayed about (God speaking!), other days the Bible verses themselves speak, and some days the Bible verses lead me to cross-reference another verse that speaks to me.  But, every single day since I have started God has used one or the other to talk right to me. 

I've also committed to reading a chapter of Proverbs each day.  There was no huge earth-shattering philosophical revelation about doing this.  I had read on someone's twitter account one day that there are 31 chapters in Proverbs and that coincides with how many days are in some of the months and so I thought that seemed like a great place to start!

Some day I hope that this will lead into a deeper study - but for now it is helping me to get back into my walk with Him.

I have attempted (in the way-long-ago past) to dive into trying to set a "perfect" quiet time with God where there are no kids around and everything is still and quite literally...quiet.  I attempted to fit God in where I could and this strategy was never successful.  It would usually end with me getting frustrated because our schedule was off and I couldn't get the kids to turn their attention elsewhere so I'd just not do a "quiet time". 

But a few days into my trying to get back with God I had an epiphany!  My "quiet" time with God doesn't have to be quiet per say.  God isn't sitting around up in Heaven refusing to meet me on my deck until my kids are inside and not able to be heard. 

No.

Quiet time is me choosing to meet God as I am, where I am.

If my kids are at my feet and making random noises and playing with the birdseed on the deck - God is still there. Oftentimes my "quiet time" involves little feet walking or running back and forth on my deck.  They turn chairs upside down to make "playgrounds", and my toddler will call out the names of different birds that come to dine at the feeders. Some times the big kids will come sit with me for a few minutes.  A few times as I've been talking to God, my toddler will say "who you talkin' to mama?".  At first I felt a little embarrassed that he'd think his mother was talking to herself.  But then it hit me that this is an opportunity to teach my littles about God, about talking to God. 

I remember as a child seeing my mom pray or reading her Bible in the mornings before the day started.  Looking back now I realize what a precedent she set for me - seeing that she started her day inviting God in makes me want to be that same example for my kids!

"quiet" time

If there are 100 steps between me and God - He will always take the first 99 steps towards me.  It is up to me to take that last step to Him.  And for the past 4 weeks that's what I've been doing - and you know what?  I can already tell a difference in the way I view my daily life.  I can tell a BIG difference in my emotions.  I feel actual gratitude for this life that God has entrusted to me.  I feel actual happiness to see the blessings in the lives of those around me. I feel excitement about what lies ahead for me. I don't feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest 24 hours a day. I feel like that cloud of bitterness and depression has been lifted. As of right now I am in such a great place emotionally that I have felt peace about cancelling my appointments with the counselor and the doctor.  I know that should I ever need them - they'll be there.

Someone asked me last week how I was doing.  If you read this post you'll know that that hasn't been my favorite question over the past year and a half.  But, I've noticed in the past couple of weeks when someone asks, I haven't been saying my usual "I'm good" or "Oh, you know, as good as can be expected" in an effort to squash the conversation and not have to drudge up on I feel life is really going - but the words "I'm actually doing really great!" come out of my mouth.  And what's even better is that I mean it! (gasp!) I do not remember the last time that I was able to tell someone that I was great with all honesty. And I can not describe how that feels.

If you or someone you know is struggling with depression and/or suicidal thoughts - please do not hesitate to seek help. We can all help prevent suicide. If you’re thinking about suicide, are worried about a friend or loved one, or would like emotional support, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline network is available 24/7 across the United States. 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255)