Living after dying

I never understood the pain that comes with the death of a spouse. 

I do now. 

Agony and loneliness. Indecision. Awe at how one body could produce so many tears, a crazy incredible number of tears, and still not dry up and blow away. 

Feelings of abandonment. The hollowness. Anger. 

And yet. And yet, somehow, each day goes on. Resting in God’s sufficiency because there is no choice. Resting in His protection while working through every horrible emotion under the sun. The perfect set of people and events to help with coping. 

And surviving. 

I never thought I was strong enough to survive.

I am.

Work, books, children, friends. Putting one foot in front of the other even when two shoes don't match. Wondering if life will be merely routine moving forward. The same routine. Day in. Day out. 

Standing in the middle of the library crying. It’s ok. Even routine accommodates break downs. Telling people I'm fine, even when I'm not. 

I never fully appreciated the comfort provided by routine. 

I do now.

Ready to shake things up! New challenges at school. Taking some trips. Buying a car. Going to the theater. Initiating activities.

What is this new feeling? Contentment? Acceptance?

I didn’t know I could feel settled. I didn’t know I would find peace. I didn’t know I would stand here, analyzing living after dying and say, Thank you, God. Thank you for the fire, the trial, the heartache you provided to sharpen me, strengthen me.

I couldn’t fathom how much stronger this would make me. From the very depths of my soul. My character. My entire being. 

I do now. 

Settling into this new life that is just me will be a snap. I’m ready. I’ll fix up the house, I’ll stay in this job, I’ll start a new blog, and, oh, how about a little business venture. 

So many possibilities. Glimpses of the pathways ahead. Peeking into the future. 

I’ll put on my inner Star Fleet uniform and tackle those strange new worlds prepared just for me. Shades of paint, summer jobs, taking control. Learning when I need help and when I can do things on my own. 

Satisfaction. A deepening sense of satisfaction. Confident I can do this new life God has given me. This life of living after dying. 

And then, a twist in God’s plot. A new person enters my life. Shared grief. Moving forward with similar stories. Conversations. Commonalities.

His smile! Wait! What’s that new feeling? Am I really lighter, brighter, more energized just thinking of his smile? His voice. Yes, that one. The one that stops me in my tracks and forces me to hang on every word. His eyes. My heart. 

Joy. A long forgotten friend. One I thought might have moved too far away. So far. Never to be seen again. And yet. Two of my favorite words. And yet.

And yet, here Joy sits with abundant delight and love. 

I didn’t know that God might lavish a new love on me. A new love found while living after dying. 

I do now.