For the longest time, years in fact, grief was my constant companion and every waking moment a sucker punch to the gut, breath caught between teeth as I struggled with the “new normal” (oh, how I hate that term!) of not having you at my side. Oh how I miss hearing, “How’s everything down at the barn this morning?” or “Were your helpers good help today?” or the worst, “Thank you, love” for a simple cup of coffee.
Ours was a marriage built on the foundation of friendship, built on a foundation of mutual respect. When love did show up, it was solid, strong, unshakeable, true. I would have fought lions and tigers and bears for you but I was asked to fight doctors and interns (that one cheeky twit doesn’t know how close he came to being shipped home in complete and total disgrace). They soon found me a formidable foe who would not only go toe to toe but prevail because I was fighting for you, for us.
Sadie and Sam struggled as well but perhaps they understood better because they watched as you breathed your last. Then again, maybe not as Sam can’t bear it when I have to leave and it doesn’t matter if I’m going to the grocery store or on a trip. When I return, his joy is uncontainable with his voice becoming louder and louder as he dances on hind legs, rejoicing in his pack being together again. Sadie is happy as well but I think she’s happy because she knows treats are soon to be handed out. She’s an opportunist, that one.
It’s been fifteen months since moving to the new to me farm. It’s been seven years, today, since you died. Once, while at a wake you said, “Now begins a year of firsts.” You were wrong. It’s a lifetime of firsts and I wish I didn’t understand.
You’d like the new farm, especially the pond. Everyone says so. Everyone also says you’d be proud of me. I surely hope so. Like the old song, “What a long, strange trip it’s been.” I’m so grateful to those Godly women gone before who showed me how to navigate strange waters.
God has been both good and faithful, protecting in ways known and unknown. The gift of travel you gave me has been used time and time again as I’ve continued to go, stretching myself, flexing my wings. God gave me the gift of contentment and I’ve even dipped into happiness although I find it to be a shallow pool.
As to joy. Well, joy is elusive (what is joy anyway?) but I have a small tinder of hope it may, one day, be mine. If not, that’s acceptable because I’ve been blessed so greatly, joy might have to displace something else. There’s nothing I would exchange but, then again, I would never have let you go had I been given a choice. Again and again I choose to trust God and accept His perfect, not permissive, will. He knows I struggle to do my best; I’m no competition.
On this anniversary of your Homegoing, thank you, over and over, for taking such good care of us. Of me and the animals. Thank you for being Provider and Protector. Thank you for making your peace with God. Thank you for the sure and certain knowledge you’re celebrating Our Father while doing your funny, hurky jerky dance around His throne. Truthfully, most days I’m in no hurry to join that great cloud of witnesses and I think, I hope, there’s much more God has for me to do. At any rate, my feet are planted firmly on the straight and narrow path and, in God’s sweet time, He’ll carry me Home.
For now, I’ll continue to enjoy this farm, our animals, my solitude and when someone came down the driveway and exclaimed, “You sure like your solitude, don’t you?!” My reply was, “Yes, I like people in small doses and at great distances.” If ever there were contemplatives, we were two, each in our own way. Life is, mostly, quietly good with contentment my warm shawl warding off the frostiness of a world gone mad. As always God is Provider and Protector, making the crooked path straight, giving His angels charge over me, over all of us on the farm. Missing you has gone from a constant worry to an old, even comfortable, longing and God broke the mold when He made you. Every morning day I put hands and feet to the day’s promises and Festina Lente has become my battle cry.
I miss you.
Sandra, dear, thank you for being you, for sharing the raw and the joyous, and for bringing folks like me into your world. Though I never met Dave in life, I often drop by to talk him when I’m in Richmond … to let him know that I think about you, and him. His spot isn’t suitable to plant a rose like I had hoped, tucked cozily there behind those sheltering shrubs.
Connie, thank you so much, I truly believe thoughts count as much as deeds when the deeds can’t be fulfilled by unusual circumstances. On my to-do list is have a small memorial stone made for Cathy, his first wife beside whom he’s buried. I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do and it will give me pleasure.
Thank you for your thoughtfulness.
I agree, that was beautiful. Am planning on sharing this with another person.
So glad you shared your guest post on facebook so that I could discover your blog.
Patty, thank you for visiting and commenting. I’m glad to hear it’s helpful; death comes to us or for us, it’s best to help each other and face the future together.
Patty, can’t figure out how to comment on your blog but I LOVE it! Brings back such memories of Dave and my first sailing trip. Your photography is beautiful and a safe harbor…YES!
Keeping you close in thought and prayer.
Thank you so much Carol; greatly appreciated.
Beautiful. Just beautiful.
Susan, thank you.
Very helpful article, Thank you for sharing. I love you
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All righty then.
Oh my, dear friend, you have made my shed tears over this, because I realize that one day, probably far sooner than I would like, I will be writing a similar letter.
Vic, I know and I’m sorry. It helps me to write these Dear Dave letters and posts and sometimes it helps others as well. It’s terrifically hard, being a widow, but there’s nowhere to go except forward. Y’all are still on my prayer list.
Sandra, I love that you write these letters to your Dave. Do not let the fact they sometimes sadden me, upset you. Your posts are a blessing to me. Thank you so much for keeping us in your prayers.
Vic, you’re more than welcome and I’m glad they help. I don’t know how to help others except by showing what I’ve gone through. By giving like I’ve been given. By being here for others like others were here for me.
God loves you with an everlasting love and underneath are His everlasting arms.
love and prayers, S.
This is such a beautiful testament to your love and friendship, as well as the struggle with grief and your small triumphs over these years! I am blessed to know you and for sharing with us this part of yourself! Thank you!
Hi Karen, it’s not that it gets easier, it just gets not so THERE all the time. But when it is THERE it’s THERE with a punch. I tell people where do we go if not forward? I’ve not discovered another option.
Sandra, it has been a privilege to read your letter to Dave. Actually, I’m printing it out and will save it. I know it’s a love letter but it’s also kind of a blueprint for life, or so it seems to me at this stage of my life where the only truly heart wrenching loss I’ve suffered so far has been the loss of dear pets, some which seemed almost unbearable, and the thought of future losses which may come. And thoughts of that fear enter my mind more often now, as much as I try to sweep them under the rug.
Yours is such a strong letter, Sandra, but with all the vulnerableness of love and loss. But it’s not the letter of a victim, something that speaks volumes.
Dewena, when Dave died, I had 5 dogs and am now down to 2 who are beloved companions but both 10 years old in March. Late September I put down my old Grandma mare who was almost 30 and since have lost 3 barn cats. Loss is as much a part of life as breathing but that’s not to say it’s any easier each time it happens. Grief has no timetable; it takes as long as it takes and, trust me, returns at less than a moment’s notice.
I write these Dear Dave letters for a few reasons…one, it helps me with the “process” and to remember. This has been a week of remembering and most of it has been good. It also helps other people; I was blessed to have extremely strong women who showed me, by their actions and life, how to grieve the death of a beloved husband. Some never re-married, some married after a short time (mainly due to lack of finances…frightening!) while others grieved until the day they died. Every single woman grieved in her own way; there’s no right or wrong way to grieve and those who say otherwise simply not only don’t know what they’re talking about, they are also rude boors. As a friend told me, “It’s the largest “hood” in the world and one I don’t want to live in”…meaning widowhood. She was/is right but there’s nothing else to do except live the life God gave us. There’s no place to go except forward.
Sandra, your letters do help, your reply to my comment does too. You are the first person I would think of to refer a friend to if they lost a spouse and I hope I never have to.
Dear Dewena, another saying I’ve adopted since Dave’s death…Death comes to us or for us, but it comes. How does one prepare? Other than having a strong foundational faith in the salvation power of Jesus Christ and eternity in Heaven, I know of no other way. Knowing Dave made his peace with God only 5 days prior to his sudden, unexpected death has made the process easier…? bearable…? I think knowing he’s in Heaven has helped me…not that we’ll see each other again (there’s no marrying or burying in heaven…thank God!) but that he’s there for all eternity and, one day, there will be nothing save worshiping God.
What a day, glorious day, that will be!
Dear, dear Sandra ~ your letter to Dave really touches my heart. I’ve been dealing with my own loss this week, it doesn’t go away. The start of the holidays is bringing on the feelings. My Mark has been with Jesus almost 6 years now.
I enjoy my solitude also. Being around people too much, can be draining. That’s when I need to step back and ‘be still’ in God’s presence, and trust Him for His tender care.
Your post encouraged my heart and I thank you for that. Jesus is my strength when I am weak. Daily, all day and night long, I need Him.
Love, hugs & prayers ~ FlowerLady
Oh Rainey. I know. I KNOW.
Dear Sandra, your beautiful note to your beloved brought tears. Your soulful message speaks to the love you both shared. You are quite the talented writer that reaches down deep into your heart and you let it pour onto paper. Thank you for sharing the raw intimate pain you have. God bless you, dear one. ♥
Martha Ellen, Dave and I saved each other. The only thing that makes his death bearable is he made his peace with God. Not that we’ll see each other again but that he’ll spend eternity in heaven.
This is such a lovely tribute of life and love, Sandra…xoxo
Linda, thank you. It was a marvelous friendship.
This is such a lovely tribute of love and life, Sandra…xoxo
OH- I have tears in my eyes reading this. I KNOW that YOU know how greatly you have been blessed to have had love like that in your life. So often it is elusive and constantly sought but never claimed.
God bless you as you continue on your path that leads you home…and not too soon, I pray. I think you have much to do here yet and,as the poem goes, “promises to keep and miles to go before you sleep”….Love to you- and I know it is a sad, bittersweet time for you. xo Diana
Diana, it didn’t start with love, it started with friendship. We lived as neighbors for six years before making the decision to sell out, move and marry. Those first years were hard.; by marrying me, Dave felt he’d betrayed Cathy and it took him a long, long time to be at peace with happiness again. We both found happiness, in each other, in the marriage. I miss him.
Bless you, Sandra, for your courage, strength and deep faith. Your honesty touches my heart. Thank you.
♥️?♥️Sue Saubert
Oh Sue. It’s supposed to get easier; I suppose it does in that the grief isn’t constant. Some dates, some photos, some somethings still set off the grief. This week is a week of grieving. All over again.
My heart goes out to you. Know that I am sending thoughts of love, comfort and prayers that God will carry you through this difficult time. Take each day one hour at a time, half a day at a time or break it down into whatever increments your heart can bear until this deep grieving passes.
You are an extraordinary person, Sandra, and know that you are loved and loved and loved.
Love to you, my friend.
♥️?♥️Sue
Thank you Sue; I’m beginning to think I need to get away for a week…then I remember the 2017 taxes that still haven’t been done. sigh. A lot of paperwork is in boxes somewhere; please God, have mercy!
There are date triggers, the anniversary of his death is one. It builds until I have to write something, if only to help myself. Then, the angst and grief abate and life is good for a while. Seriously, life is mostly good but when the grief comes, it’s powerful. But we go on; where else is there if we don’t go on?
Sue, thank you for your note; you are tucked in prayer and loved.
Good morning…..here I am, your small dose of contact saying I am glad you enjoy your farm, your animals, your contentment and beautiful memories ♡
Sheryl, thank you! I am so glad you visit.
You are an inspiration to carry on. Hugs.
What a beautiful heartfelt post sweet lady. My mother passed away 16 weeks and one day ago and my heart literally aches for her. I miss her with a weight of grief that only those who have experienced true loss know and understand. Like you, I KNOW that my mother is in heaven, rejoicing with the angels around the throne, praising the Savior. My mother was a faithful follower of Jesus all the days of her life and I know her reward is great. That brings me great comfort. Also like you, my feet are bound to that same straight and narrow so that one day I can be reunited with her and meet my Jesus face to face. Oh what a day. Until then, I “press on.” When people ask how I’m doing I smile and say “I’m doing OK.” But some days I’m not OK. Some days I just want to go out to her grave and bawl my eyes out. I want her back. Like you said, I would never have let her go if God had asked my permission, but He didn’t, and I trust Him. Life goes on and I try hard to focus on the going forward because I believe that is part of that pressing on that the Lord requires of all of us. We know that all of us are born to die, and death is a part of life. But oh it is a painful part. There are good parts of life and I’m about to experience the best of life, or so those who have done this before me say . . . I’m going to be a grandma in just a few hours!! Our wonderful daughter in law is just past 40 weeks pregnant and will be induced tonight, so by this time tomorrow morning our first grandchild (a boy named after my husband) will be here. That fills my heart with true joy. I like to believe that my little grandson is at this moment sitting on my mother’s lap in heaven, and she is telling him all about the wonderful family he is about to join. Holding him will be bittersweet for me. My mom wanted so desperately to get to see him, and when I hold him for the first time my heart will be full, believing that he has seen my mom since I have. And if that’s not how heaven works then I’m OK with it. But it makes me smile thinking of my mom holding her great-grandson in heaven before I hold him on this earth. Maybe that’s why he’s taking his own sweet time arriving . . . great-grandma’s lap is a wonderful place to be. Sending a hug to you dear lady. Trusting Jesus to comfort both of us. I know that you and I will probably never meet on this earth, but I am confident we will spend eternity in heaven together. I can’t wait to introduce you to my mom, and you can introduce me to Dave. Blessings from Missouri.
Dear Robbin, You have had such loss and are on my prayer list. It’s easier to say, “I’m doing ok” than see the panic in someone’s eyes when I say how I’m truly feeling. There are few who understand; seems like most want to run and hide, pretend life is fine even when it’s hard. I believe the Grand has been sitting on G-Grand’s lap, being cuddled, loved, whispered to. When you’re holding him (how wonderful he’s named after his Grandfather!), whisper to him of Jesus. Ask him if he remembers Jesus and watch his face light up! Sing Jesus Loves Us…watch his face light up. Yes, I’m looking forward to our Heavenly meeting…to meet that great cloud of witnesses gone on before, to worship in truth and love our great Redeemer and our God. YES!
How beautiful and truthful, heart felt and raw. You still love Dave so well. God be with you, friend.
Karen, Dave wasn’t an easy man to love but it was a worthwhile love and a marvelous life.
This is beautiful, sad, hopeful, sincere oh I could go on with words to describe this beautiful letter to Dave.
Tears are flowing as I read this. True love that is taken is such hardship but the lesson we learn from God during this part of our journey shows what a gift Dave was in your journey. As your journey will continue there is a beacon of a light and a less heavy heart and hope maybe even joy. Big hugs to you today. I will remember you in prayer this evening and thank you and God for sharing this beautiful tribute and special letter to Dave.
Kris
Kris, Dave was the biggest gift I’ve ever been given…aside from Jesus. Thank you for your prayers, much needed and appreciated.
What a lovely letter of tribute and a glimpse into your love and strong faith. I will pray that you will always have such a wonderful outlook on life in dealing with the sadness of loss but the promise of life ever after. Many blessings!
Debbie Valentini
Debbie, thank you for your prayers and comment. Especially your prayers!
God bless you, my dear.
Thank you Erika.
Sweet, sweet post. I believe he reads and knows every word.
Thank you Mary Katherine.
A very poignant and touching post. May our Lord give you extra strength to continue to go forward.
Amen to that Barbara!
Beautiful tribute to your husband, you are so brave and determined, God bless you and keep you safe. Maybe we’ll meet again someday. Gwen
Gwen, where else does one go if not forward?
((HUGS)) This post is beautiful, your loss is real and you told the truth. Keeping you in my thoughts and prayers.
Deborah, someone told me I shouldn’t be so transparent. It helps me so much to remember Dave; if it helps others, that’s a bonus.
Beautifully expressed. With tears in my eyes I comment here…
I think I’ll share this with my sister who just endured the 3 year anniversary of her husband’s death.
Ellen, please give your sister my condolences. It’s not that grief becomes less weighty, it becomes less burdensome. “The severe weight of nothing”