I was on a girls weekend with my two best friends when I received my call. If you have lived through losing a spouse, then you always remember that call, or event better than the birth of your children. It hits you that hard. I was hundreds of miles away from my children and spouse when he passed right in front of them. I had just gotten off the phone with him not more than five minuets when he was found on the ground by friends that they were visiting. I was the last person to ever speak to him. While that sounds like something out of a movie, it is true, and while at the time it wasn’t good enough, now I am so thankful for it. Nothing hits harder than flying down a highway trying to get home while an ER doctor tells you “I’m sorry ma’am, there just wasn’t anything we could do.” over the phone. You slowly watch your life just stop. Breathing is hard, moving is hard and your in too much of a shock to even really cry. Of course if you are reading this most likely you’ve been through that or something similar. I would say “Sorry for your loss” but if you are anything like me, you are just tired of hearing it. I haven’t quite made it to the first year anniversary, but it is slowly creeping up on us. I have made it through many tough days though. The holidays, our wedding anniversary, my birthday, I made it through it all of those. The sad thing is the hardest day for us as a family is still a simple Thursday. Why? Because it was the day that he would come home from his job. Getting the first hug from dad, was a real contest and the winner had bragging rights all weekend. To lose that meant that we felt like we lost it all.
Ed was the leader of our family. He was the life and joy of the house, it just felt like home with him there. But this isn’t about losing him. It’s about finding me. I have said it a lot lately, “it’s almost sad that it took my husband dying to teach me how to live.” And maybe that is a little cliche but those who have been in this trench and made it out to the other side know what I mean. I have met many widows who still trudge down in the rough for many reasons. There’s no timeline to grief. No finish line, because it will always be there. What there is, is the day you wake up and think today I move forward. And to be honest, there are days you wake up and think this, and by the time the day is over, you find yourself back down in the trench. Guess what, that is perfectly okay. I am different, from everyone. I decided right from the start that the word Widow would only describe who I am not define who I am.
Widow…..that word is so heavy it becomes tied around your neck sometimes feeling much like the Scarlet Letter. Especially in a small town, and I love my small town. Here grief is done as a whole town not just as a family. We mourn as a community. Here in this small town I am not the only widow. I mean young widow. I believe I may be the youngest, but if I am it is not by much. When you live in a large city, people become young widows every day. It becomes common, what it doesn’t become is easy. I can’t imagine trying to do this without my community. I thank God for them.
As my one year anniversary comes up I am suddenly wondering where can I find the silver lining in this mess of a hand that I have been dealt? I’m talking a pair of twos here. Then it hits me, just because I have the easiest hand to beat doesn’t mean that I can’t bluff. Somewhere God has a plan and I just have to find what it is. Now I know most people will say be patient God will come to you, he will reveal his plan in time. Naw God knows me, I’m gonna knock on his door, no not knock, pound on his door and ask straight up. What’s the plan. Not because I don’t have patience but because sometimes the only way to find God is to get off your ass and look for him.
So I prayed I asked for very specific things. I mean very, no walking around the topic just laid it out. And then I received answers. This blog is about getting those answers and how they affected me. And I hope that it inspires you to start asking God for answers. To stop asking for signs or word of encouragement. I mean answers real answers, things that when I reveal each one will give you goosebumps. Because it did me.
One last thing for you in this opening post. Why call this blog “The Journey of a Lioness”? In a pride of lions it is the females that hunt and provide for the family. Then once the hunt is over they are usually the last to eat. They put everyone first. I set out to find God that way once my husband died. I set out to find answers of why, why me, why my children, why our family. And I learned why they were not easy lessons to learn. And hunting the way I did left battle scars that are still healing. Yet what I found and what I hope to inspire you to find is worth every tear, rip, and hole that I got. Welcome to the hunt my friends, this hunt isn’t for the strong for they are too closed minded to accept imperfections. This hunt is for the weak because it will force you to become strong and while it will leave you broken and bleeding, one day you will wake up and you will be the fierce lioness, that no one saw coming.
The Journey of a Lioness 