12 years

To go from this

 

to this


in a dozen years is not at all what we thought would happen. No one plans for this. 

On May 8, 2004 the sun was shining and there was nothing standing in the way of me and Jake living a wonderful and full life together.

And on May 8, 2016 I cried bitter tears alone as my body, heart and soul ached for my Jacob.

I miss him so much.

I will miss him for as long as I live.

It is incredibly hard to spend your anniversary without your spouse.

For me and Jake, our anniversary was a day we celebrated us and stopped to reflect on our previous years of marriage and remember highlights and lessons we'd learned.

We decided early on not to buy presents for each other. Instead, every year we would pick out a new fancy restaurant and treat each other to a great meal and night out. A few years we even stayed overnight at a resort hotel in town.

I loved all of those celebrations with him.

It would be dishonest to say that the day was totally horrible. With it being Mother's Day, there was also a sweetness tinting the sorrow as my kids gave me homemade cards and presents expressing their love for me and gratitude that I am their mom. It made me feel more grateful than ever that I have these children who need me.

My sister was in town and was so good to me. She had the kids help make me breakfast in bed, a tradition that Jake had been doing for years. She also made the sweetest book, with notes and pictures collected from our siblings and parents sharing their observations about our marriage and my motherhood. Their assessments were very generous and kind and I spent an hour crying and reading their loving words. That Claire would have thought of making a book in advance and gone to the effort to put it together was so meaningful to me.

Matt and Jessica (Jake's brother and our sister in law) came over in the evening and helped Claire make and clean up a delicious chicken alfredo dinner. Jess listened and hugged me while I cried and Matt was so compassionate. I am grateful for them being here and for how they continue to stay with me through these lonely days.

I cry-talked to both of our parents that night and they listened with so much love and concern. I know they wish they could take it away.

But they can't.

No one can.

That is what I am learning about grief.

It is a lonely, solitary, individual process that you must go through alone. It is part of gaining experience. 

It's just that sometimes experience sucks.

I finally fell asleep and put an end to that difficult day.

Monday, May 9, dawned bright and lovely as more than a dozen friends came over to work for 3+ hours deep cleaning my house. I was preparing to list it later in the week and these wonderful women worked like slaves getting our house clean down to the very minute details. I was filled with gratitude for their service and love. It was a salve on my aching heart.

And later in the day Lauren brought in the mail. She came to me with a letter, with this letter, asking if it was really from who she thought it was from.

It was.

With tears streaming down my face I read out loud words of condolence, love, and peace from one who has always been so very mindful of widows.

I have learned through these years this truth: Heavenly Father cannot always compensate in this life. But the help He sends is always enough.