The unexpected journey into grief

That’ll be a life-changer…

And all the ways that is true play across my mind like a film. Such random things flash through my mind. Alone. I will be alone much more often much sooner than I had planned. I don’t need to buy slippers for Scott or curtains for Kaitlyn or…what were we even going to get Zach anyway? The food at my house will last so much longer. Christmas will be quiet, eerily quiet. We have too many steaks for Christmas Eve. 

Parenting… I don’t need to figure out how to help Zach learn how to study or how to talk to Kaitlyn about relationships with boys. I have a lot more time on my hands. I relish that though and fear it, but less than I would have even a few years ago.

I have to shift my dependence from Scott to a great, cavernous abyss. I know dependence on My Heavenly Father is always there, and He provided Scott as my go to here. I have no one I can go to like that- in complete freedom, vulnerability and trust. I am a great wife. I’m good at it. He made me good at it, desiring to be the best at it. Beautiful. Cherished. Intimate. Known. Loved. Oh so loved, so deeply loved. He saw the best.

Europe isn’t so appealing. We had planned to go there when we had an empty nest. I see opportunities to be away freely and the potential to invest deeply in our region. Africa? I could visit friends. I so wanted to do that with Kaitlyn. Sam’s senior trip to Gettysburg. We will make that happen. 

Details. Life insurance. Paying off the house. FAFSA. Income. Covering Josh’s flight costs. Paying for Sam’s schooling. Counsel on investing. Steep learning curves. The lodge. Summer trips. Summer. Coffee. Furniture. Bedrooms. My sons. No father. Where do they seek counsel? Vacuum. Void.

Three. Not six. Never six. Some day maybe 5. Spouses who never knew them. Never knew them. So many who never knew them. Too precious to share, too beautiful to keep to ourselves.

Here they are. My first words since…since I found out that half my family died. They won’t be making it to Anchorage, or anywhere else. The words are not flowing. Disbelief and blinking and shaking of my head. I’ll want to record it all, at some point, to remember. How will I ever forget?

Labor. Delivery. Waiting is over. Getting used to…? Learning how to…? walk my brand new story. Heart that won’t stop racing.

Eyes that are completely dry or completely wet.

An overwhelming sense that God’s got this and the glory is going to be amazing. The current reality that I don’t got this and really don’t want to have it. That I cannot do this one more minute. That surviving is the only option, but I don’t know how and I’m not sure I want to.

Mourning.

Weeping.

Laughing.

Smiling.

Talking to no one and getting calls from the press.

Release.

Withdrawal.

Acceptance.

Denial.

Relief.

Anguish. Anguish. That word resonates. Deep all encompassing anguish…

Fear.

Confidence.

Logic.

Rambling.

And always my heart pounding, racing, as if it needs to leave my chest. It lives outside myself now. A large chunk of it torn away and sinking, sunk to the bottom of an icy lake.

Gratitude it was probably very fast.

Gruesome pictures that haunt.

Desire to walk well by faith.

Uncertainty what that means.

Excitement for the future.

Dread for each moment.

Wanting to shout their stories.

Wishing I could only whisper it to those who will hold it close and cherish it.

With me. My story. My beautiful, terrible story. My people. My life. My Savior’s life through me.

Death. How does one live after the dying?

No words.

So many rushing, gushing words.

Sweet memories.

Bitter stabs.

Aching, piercing.

Silence.

Wailing.

Oh how I want Scott to hold me through this. To process and give me perspective. To weep with me and I can only weep for him and the hollow cavernous hole.

Gratitude.

Anger.

Despair.

Details.

Nausea.

Strength.

Weakness.

Others.

Myself.

Recoil.

Embrace.

Raw, oh so raw.

Here begins the journey into grief. Please read the “About” page. I’m jumping in to my story as the realization hits that the plane is late and search efforts are needed.

Heavenly Father,

You provide all I need, always. Your tender mercies are new every morning and in the watches of the night Your hand guides me. You hem me in behind and before. Your thoughts for me are more than the sands of the seashore. I am overwhelmed, overcome with Your care for me, moving me toward this moment of time.

I don’t know what I will look back on this time as since I don’t know how the story will unfold, but I don’t want to miss this, the depths of love poured out, the depth of weeping and uncertainty. All of it.

I do desperately want them all home. It is harder to keep hope that it will be my story as the hours go on. Right now I don’t have regrets. I didn’t hug Kaitlyn or Zach and barely kissed Scott this morning/yesterday morning, but what a sweet kiss that was; but I know they know they are loved by me. I have many hugs to draw from. How glad I am there was no tension as we all left. Thank you.

I know I don’t yet know how this will turn out but my mind still runs. How to celebrate their lives to include the most people. Life in Port Alsworth without them. Sam going off to college. An empty house. Filling it and being able to continue to love people well. I don’t know what purpose these ramblings serve but here I am.

Gratitude. My primary emotion and thought right now is is gratitude.

• People praying.
• Unlimited internet so I don’t need to think about listening to hymns on YouTube.
• A greater purpose than me to be confident of in all this.

Requests

That a critical spirit and complaining would have no place in what comes out of my mouth during the stress.

That I would walk by faith well.

That I would lead Josh and Sam well through this.

That Your kingdom would be advanced, darkness pushed back. Oh how my heart longs for that.

That my body would function well.

Your peace and strength are undeniable and so amazing.

My physical heart seems to be having the hardest time. It’s like its supercharged and working overtime. I do wish it would calm down. And my stomach isn’t so great right now either. May I not have any trouble with it right now, all day into the future of this story.

Oh, Father, help me to love well all those who long to help today.

Thank you for the technology that allows me to glimpse the people standing with us. That crazy time in your life when your whole Facebook feed is about you and you didn’t write any of it.

Isaiah 43:1-3
But now thus says the Lord,
He who created you, O Jacob,
He who formed you, O Israel:

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.