In Loving Memory Across Time

Thinking and remembering on this anniversary of your home going.

March seventh, 2018:

At this time last year, I was sitting on my front porch with my sister-in-law. We were waiting for the police to show up and confirm what I already knew. I had not been online, I had been nowhere near Facebook. I was sitting, watching people show up, answering the phone, I was staring off into the distance. A friend had come and spoke with my son James. I had spoken with my step-daughter, I had spoken with my sisters-in-law. I was functioning, barely. I was in shock, I was dumbfounded, I was lost. How many times, had he told me that he would go before me, and how many times had I countered that with, you never know, I could walk out of work and get hit by a truck.

But he did go first.

Life changed.

This new normal is not normal.. not yet, not today.

At my first break today, I thought, about now, was the very last time I spoke with him. And his last words, were, “Bec, let me go.”

I don’t know how soon after that he passed away. I tried to call him all day, every break, not getting an answer and not sure why. Until moments before 4pm. I was trying to help finish up, getting ready to go home. And the call came. And my world as I knew it, was rocked completely off its foundation.

So here I am, a year later, looking out the window at the bright sunlight, wondering what he would think of how things have gone. Wondering if he would approve, or not, or even care as long as there was food in the fridge and something to watch on television. I believe he would be very proud of James. I know he would be proud of his daughter, his kids were his everything, no matter how old they were.

A year, its been a year. Where do we go from here? Some think that a year is a decent time to mourn and then its time to pick up and move forward. I recall all of the times my husband would make comments if he thought someone remarried too soon after a loss. Its been a year, its strange, this being alone. I don’t suffer those bouts of loneliness like I once did. I’m learning, moving forward, making good strides. Relearning who I was and who I am.

Its been a year. I do miss him, but I know, that he is healed, he is happy and he is walking those Heavenly streets of gold. I wouldn’t ask him to come back for anything.

Forward..its time to go forward.

March seventh 2019:

Day 66– page 66- memories

I wasn’t sure how I was going to deal with today. I didn’t fear it, I didn’t dread it, there was no way to avoid it. Today, makes two years since my husband has been gone. My manager had to leave a bit early today, I’m glad as that meant I had to stay on top of what was going on until the end of the shift. That way, when 2 minutes before four came along, I was busy and the time came and went without fan fair. And without that deep, stabbing pain that could have happened.

Two years.

How can it have been two years?

Two years since I’ve heard your voice. Two years since I’ve answered one of many calls from you. Two years since I’ve searched for some place online, trying to find directions. Two years since you’ve pulled down my brother’s road, sounding that air horn to let us know you were there. (As if we didn’t hear that big engine, or see the dogs getting all excited) Two years since you’ve walked into this room and picked up item by item asking me–again– what it was, or what it was for, where I got it, then putting each thing down to pick up one of my many hats and try it on. Putting it back, you would then tell me you were hungry lets go eat.

Its been two years since we’ve made our regular run to Walmart together. Always gathering almost the exact same things, you always complaining about how much stuff costs. You really would be upset now.

You would be so proud of the man your son has become. He is an old soul, but in a good way. He works, he takes care of his responsibilities, he jumps when Grandma calls. I know sometimes he feels overwhelmed, someone always wants something, but he does it, even when its obvious he just wants to sit down for a while. He’ll get up and go.

I really miss Deanna, Eric and Devlin. Maybe someday.

Its amazing, this day. I wasn’t sure how it would go, but it really went well. I guess its true, it does get a bit easier. The pain is easing, the deep ache is easing, I’m able to breathe, I’m able to take care of the housework, I don’t remember the last time I stood at the gate, looking down toward where you once parked Sweet Lady Green. I miss you, I’ll always miss you, as you were a part of my life for so very long Your son a wonderful reminder of what once was.

While I sit here, thinking of what once was, I also think about how much better you are now. I know that now you can breathe again, now you can walk without having to stop and rest.. You’ve had two years of walking the Golden roads, walking with your and my family who went before You’ve walked with the saints, the prophets, heard the angel choir. You’ve stood face to face with Jesus. I would never, ever ask you to leave that to come back.

We’re doing okay. we’re going to be fine. Soon, Spring will be here. Soon, I’ll be able to get outside again, hoping to plant flowers, hoping to get things done. Knowing that soon, I’ll be able to sit outside on the porch, in your chair and enjoy the quiet…and hold close the memories.

March seventh 2022:

 Its been five years since you left us for your heavenly home. Five years since you’ve called me. Five years since you’ve walked in the door dropping your bag of dirty laundry in the chair from being out on the road. Five years since I’ve felt your embrace. How, could five years have passed and how could it not be mere moments? I wonder at times if you can see us. I wonder what you would think of how we are doing, if you would be proud of us.

 Memories linger still, of our time together, the good and the not so good. How we struggled, but how we made it work. All those times when events seemed hopeless, how God would answer prayers, give us a miracle and show us how He is always with us. Helping us, lighting the way through the darkness and being our shelter in the storms.

Memories linger of how you loved us, how you would do everything and anything possible to take care of us. Even going so far as to step so incredibly far out of your comfort zone and into driving that truck. One who could count all the states visited on one had before obtaining that commercial driving license. One who would push aside any feelings of illness and keep moving. One who was determined to protect family and all the things you had worked so hard to acquire. Even if it meant that in the end, you would not get to spend much time enjoying what you acquired. Even if in the end, your family stands without you.

 Memories linger of you on the porch, talking to the dog and asking me to bring you a refill on coffee. Memories linger of you at family gatherings. Memories linger when movies that you would watch on repeat comes on the television. Memories linger, when I step out back and wish we had been able to build that deck you wanted so badly. Where you would be able to sit in private and not worry about the neighbors across the road.

Memories linger, in the quiet when I am alone. Memories of feeling your arms around me. Memories of your kiss. Even as I recall all the times that were not the best, the struggles, the arguments, the frustration that comes with financial struggles, they are nothing compared to the good memories. It is the good, that brings a smile. It is the good, that brings the peaceful fondness and comfort.

Five years, has brought me a long way toward growth and healing. It has not taken your memory and your love away.

About rebecca s revels

A writer, a photographer, a cancer survivor. An adventurer of the mild kind, a lover of the simple pleasures such as long walks and chocolate. A Christian unashamed of my faith and a friend who is dependable and will encourage readily. Author of three self published books with more waiting to find their way to paper. An advocate of good things, a fighter against wrongs.
This entry was posted in encouragement, faith, family, in honor, inspiration, life's journey, memories, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to In Loving Memory Across Time

  1. John says:

    May I give you a virtual hug, Rebecca? 🙏🏻🌹

  2. Sheree says:

    Sending supportive thoughts

  3. Claire says:

    I know exactly how you are feeling, it’s six years for me (22nd March) and I still miss his voice, silly jokes, hugs and company. But they’ll never be forgotten, these loved ones of ours xx

  4. elvira797mx says:

    Dear Rebecca, send you a big hug!

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