Autumn Morning

Front Porch Summer View

Water Color by Jayne Heetderks

~ A Gorgeous Autumn Morning ~

A gorgeous autumn morning.  70º at 11am, yet predicted to cool down sharply this afternoon.  So here I am on the front porch catching a final glow of warm sunny weather for the season. 

Woke to this day with a sense of well being. That little extra nudge of feeling centered, at home in my self. OK. Not an 82 year old widow facing another day on her own with a remaining residue echoing an empty void even after almost 4 years. That sense of ‘something missing’ living on tucked into a hidden pocket in the backpack of my soul. 

That backpack in which resides all the fertile soil, the years and memories my life is rooted in. All the love, the lessons learned, the people I’ve been blessed to know - to grow with. Folks whose lives have molded me and helped put me back together when I’ve failed or fallen.

It’s quiet out here on the porch - except for the sound of gusty breezes rustling through dry leaves still clinging on. As the wind breaks their last grip, they drift down silent as mist, carpeting the lawn. Today is a bittersweet awareness of knowing all is well, yet framing a fond farewell to summer - knowing dark winter cold is just around the corner.

One large perfect oak leaf floats silently over the railing, lands softly on my hand and rests there. Not brightly colored, but rugged and beautiful. It hasn’t even touched the ground. I decide to keep it - pressed between the leaves of a heavy volume of Emily Dickinson’s complete collection. Another poem!

JoMae

10/15/20

Some find solace in pennies found, feathers on their path or butterflies who hover near. Today’s fair leaf spoke tenderly to me.

<><><><><><><>

When my friend Jayne read this story, she gifted me with a water color illustration of it. I treasure the painting - not only for the moment it captures, but as an icon of friendship the gift embodies. Thank you, Jayne Heetderks!

Water Color by Jayne Heetderks

My Fair Oak Leaf

Adapting

Rained Out? Have An Umbrella Parade

You should see these kids today! Life is full of adapting to change!

~  Adapting ~ 

I never know when a writing prompt is going emerge!  This morning, taking a quick peek at facebook, the first thing I saw was a photo and recipe of a decadent desert followed by comments about how yummy it looked. I immediately noticed something that prompted me to close fb until later so I could write. Because…

Some time ago I would have joined right in.  I still like a bit of chocolate and a little gooey sweetness - but this absolutely did not appeal. In noticing that, I saw a connection to other recent life changes.  I felt almost compelled to stop and examine it all more closely.

Several years back, I landed in the hospital where it was discovered I am diabetic. Determined to manage this, I changed my eating patterns and learned to control the disease with careful food intake. Soon thereafter, I was taken off prescription meds and so far have not needed to go back on them.  I know I am fortunate and many people cannot do this. 

The thing is, I use very little sugar - and as time went by, began to observe that beautiful deserts tempted less and less, until, as this morning  proved, brought quite the opposite reaction from that of craving!  Also, a little sugar is apt to taste far too sweet!  How things have changed! And how my body has adapted! My very notion of a treat is different today.

Which brings me to the other change my gut response to this morning’s photo brought to mind.  After living with loved ones my whole life, for three years now, since my husband died, I’ve been adapting to life on my own. A task at first unthinkable, impossible.  Yet gradually one learns how. Slowly moving forward into this unknown, new routines - unchosen, yet forced by circumstance, became small comfort zones. Small gifts, embracing and embraced. Until, one day looking back, an awareness sets in that while memories remain a wonderful place to visit, new joy has seeped in. New life. 

For me, that joy comes wrapped in endless hours to read and contemplate and write.  Long days. At first a nightmare, incomprehensible to survive, have become a welcome gift. An old gift/hobby, really - now multiplied.  A gift I open eagerly each morning and almost always find a sweet surprise to ponder and enjoy.  In this way too, my whole being has adapted! Thanks be to Godde!

~ Adopting Change ~

JoMae

7/27/20

Psalm 56 Echo

~ Finding Peace on Dark Days ~

(Pondering Psalm 56)

Psalm 56:1-4 NIV

For the director of music. To the tune of “A Dove on Distant Oaks.” Of David.

A miktam. ^b When the Philistines had seized him in Gath.
https://biblehub.com/niv/psalms/56.htm

Be merciful to me, my God,

for my enemies are in hot pursuit;

all day long they press their attack.

My adversaries pursue me all day long;

in their pride many are attacking me.

When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.

In God, whose word I praise—

in God I trust and am not afraid.

What can mere mortals do to me
<><><><><>

How can David’s song inspire my day all these years later and as far removed by situation as by time.  I am not oppressed by enemies wanting to harm me.  I know others in my day are. I know that many in this very summer live in the palpable fear of being attacked by the covid19 pandemic and/or its accompanying crisis, while I live rather isolated in my comfortable home, cautious yet protected by family and friends willing to care about and shop for me. 

Yet I wonder if Psalms like this, while reminding of life threatening fear and suffering many endure, also hold a template to help express the agony of non lethal life struggles. 

Godde was certainly merciful to me when my enemy, death, was in hot pursuit and with one last hard pressed attack, won the battle. Removed the one who loved me more than any - and in so doing caused the self I knew, to die as well.  No. Physically I did not die. Yet in the twinkling of an eye, ALL changed for me as well.  Life norms, so long familiar within the safe circle of ‘we’ were now gone. I’d been transplanted into a foreign world whose terrain, customs and culture must be learned. Whose language I did not understand. 

So I found refuge in the safe embrace of the familiar home we built together - loathe to leave its walls and all the memories they held. So much the same, yet even here each room held an ’elephant’ named silence. Deathly quiet formed a huge black hole, a vacant void holding the deafening echo of John’s absence, his missing presence.  It seemed only half a home without our mingled voices.

——

Now over three years on this path of being on my own. Of being ‘me’ - no longer ‘we’ - I’m finding ‘home’ again.  Still rooted in the old yet discovering new skills and interests, (while honing the old) polishing emerging gifts, learning new ways, embracing the joy of solitude.  At first, alone and lost in the void, unable to focus even on reading a book - which had always been my escape and rescue - I grabbed the only other lifeline within reach.  I began to fill a page with words - another long loved habit/hobby. I’d often written notes to myself in an effort to sort out the chaos inherent in raising our wonderful boisterous growing family. In thinking through the best way to respond to unexpected questions and challenges. It had become a pattern for reflecting on life and truth. 

As I wrote and pondered, the loss didn’t go away, but out of it, new gifts appeared. Small skills developed. Poems popped up.  A dream to share them was born.  I felt thankful, not for death - which by now I had accepted, but for silent time to read, think and write to my heart’s content - which did flow from death’s wake.  I am now thankful for this new life to which I've been transplanted and for all I’m finding here. Thankful also for this era of online media where one’s work can so readily be shared and find a home. And most of all, for the joy of writing born anew.

Thankful for friends and family far and near, including those online I will never meet in person, yet whose writing and voices steadily sustain.  And for my Godde whose Love encases all, who holds me safe with frequent rescue and guides me back when wandering. When I am afraid, I put my trust in Godde whose Word I praise — in whom I trust and therefore need not be afraid. 

<><><><><>

When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.

In God, whose word I praise—

in whom I trust and am not afraid.

What can mere mortals do to me

 (Ps 56:3-4 NIV)

JoMae

7/25/20

Today's reflection prompted by Psalm 56

Prompt: Psalm 42 Echo

Photo by Bonnie Kittle @bonniekdesign

~ BE STILL ~

As a deer looks for flowing streams

so my soul reaches out to you, O Godde

cries out to behold the face of living Godde

my soul turns to you, my ever present help

yet surrounded, held by your love as in a womb

I’m apt to miss the flow ready to quench my thirst

- prone to let the noise of my loud panicked cries

drown out the object of my search: your touch

your quiet answer breathing in my heart

the piercing of my blind spots

shading your ever present

flood of love from view

<><><><><><>

When shall I come to know your breath again

dear Godde? Your familiar presence holding me?

As a fawn resting by the stream, I know, and

am reminded; I’ve been swimming in your

living waters all along. Safely held

Here I will live and breath and

listen for your Wisdom with

hope and a thanksgiving

stirring in my heart

Thanks be to Godde

JoMae

6/16/19

The Psalmist goes on to speak of sorrow, fear, wounds and feeling downcast -  forgotten by God, then recalls and repeats:  “Hope in God; for I shall again praise…”  That hope is reinforced by remembering moments when God was not distant. When God’s face had been more clear.  

Sympathy cards often wish the recipient many happy memories to comfort you.  At some point I realized that warm memories of the past not only sooth and comfort, but can also become the underpinnings for future joy. After loss, life is largely ‘before’ and ‘after’.  Memories, and all one has learned from them - from the past - provide the building blocks for what lies ahead. Each chapter of our lives is built on or against the one before. Life goes on. In deep mourning, one might not even want it to go on. Yet it does. 

At first we stand disoriented with one foot in the past, one unwillingly pulled ahead. Finally, when we reluctantly accept that the old chapter is closed and the new is inevitable, we do well to put both feet into it. Start building with every tool and memory we’ve known before.  Let each joy and sorrow be a teaching block. Turn any hobby and small skill into a gift to share in making a new friend, in finding a new purpose for this next chapter.  

May we allow past memories to serve as a firm anchor for life ahead, let them be a gift of hope as we create new joy and find the strength to build bright futures, Godde helping us.  -JoMae 

Today's Prompt: My echo of  Psalm 42 

The One Who Left

John's Legacy

~ The One Who Left ~

the one who left walks with me still

his smile in every daffodil planted long ago

in every flower his garden grows year after year

in every poem I write, in every peaceful night

- lingers deeply rooted in the soil of my life

nurtured so long with love
I too will blossom on

JoMae

4/10/20

#aprpad 10 - Poem-A-Day prompt: write a the-blank-who-blank poem.

New Normal

12/9/19 note:

Dear friends, especially those who are still in your first year, today i ran across this note on how my new normal felt at that point (8/7/17).  On being comfortable with solitude, I still tend to hibernate, but in time have become far more comfortable with it. I’m thinking of all of you still in your early stages of this journey and share it with hope for continued healing, love and encouragement.

~~~~~~~~

August 7, 2017

My New Normal

Most mornings after breakfast, I settle in my chair, open my laptop and think, write etc for a few hours. I might not step outdoors for almost a week if I don’t need to run to the store. All the while feeling slightly embarrassed about it, slightly guilty, sort of a concern that others, if they were aware, would think there is something wrong with me. Wondering, what would people, my own kids, think if they knew how truly I am hibernating here. As if this is something I must explain or make excuses for if asked. As if this hibernation is abnormal. I know it will not always be this way, and yes it is abnormal - from what life was 7 months ago - before John died. But for now it is normal. It is OK.

This now is my day. My work. My purpose. My joy. I can send away that ‘shoulds’ monkey on my shoulder and embrace this abundant time of quiet I have for healing and for writing. I can drop the apologetic stance and mindset I’ve been carrying around inside of me. It feels like a sigh of relief! It is OK! This is now who I am. I will embrace this new routine and gradually modify it over time. I might even go outdoors and read in the sun for a while this afternoon! -JoMae

Something Taken...

 March 21, 2018

Hi my friends. This is a fresh observation for me, a moment of recognizing something new.

Something Taken, Something Given

I think most couples develop the give and take of compromise. Easing off a little here or there to give the other space. Like a beautiful dance or a jazz duet. Often so subtle as to hardly be noticed. It is what we chose for love. It is what it takes for two unique (sometimes opposite) personalities to get along.

In our marriage, John was the quiet one. Took his time to speak. I was the talker - apt to barge on ahead of him. Especially with friends, I tended to be conscious of this and tried to temper blurting out my opinions somewhat. (not always successfully, I'm sure) It was always there. Occasionally annoying, but usually barely noticed - until last night.

I have not been very social since John died 15 months ago. Last night I met with a few friends for the first time and found myself at ease, enjoying myself and deep into good conversation. I noticed something felt different. Only later did I realize what it was. I was not holding back.

The bad thing is I’ve lost my soul mate, the good thing, I think I’m finding my Self in a new and healthy way. It was a lovely feeling actually. To step out from the past (still holding hearts) and step into the future to find this woman dancing solo, free, eager and able to be responsible for her own self.

So while my great love and anchor has been lost, it appears that something good has also been found. Something taken, something given. I am blessed.

JoMae

Small Poems on Loss

~ Sweet Solitude ~

The silence of death at first impossible to face

has become a haven for contemplation, a

sweet place to discover who I am to be

now on my own

JoMae

10/24/19

<><><><><><>

~ New Normal ~

Life will never be the same, yet

 will hold wonder once again

new joy  new pain  found

in a new plane gained

right here on earth

JoMae

10/26/19

One Last Farewell

John & JoMae
August 29, 1959

One Last Farewell

One last farewell to the life I used to know. To a life rich in fond memories of fifty seven years of being one with John. Sixty years ago today was our wedding day. And this is my small celebration of thanksgiving for that day and all the glad years of companionship we shared. 

There are many chapters in a long life. Some we choose and some we don’t. Some we can prepare for and some take us by surprise. Some are a delight and some are simply dreadful to adjust to.  Some are deep wounds that take a long long time to heal - and even then will ache from time to time. 

Widowhood is a wound like that - disorienting every ounce of one’s being. Finding our way in its foreign world can take a long time.  Yet after almost three years on my own following so many as half of a whole, I can attest that in Godde’s Grace good gifts are waiting to be unwrapped even in this chapter. 

Sometimes they hide a while, but always have just been waiting to be found. This I have learned so far - with many lessons still ahead, I’m sure.  So on this day of looking back at many joys and blessings with a grateful heart, I can share that I’ve learned to trust - one step at a time - that new gifts will continue to unfold. In that knowledge, even when the well seems empty, I can greet each morning wondering what insights and smiles the day will bring.  Thanks be to Godde.

JoMae

8/29/19

——

It’s interesting that this piece sort of asked to be written following a bright summer shadowed by a kind of melancholy woven into the many lovely days. I knew this summer would have been our 60th and somehow that haunted me a lot.  Until a week or so before the anniversay, it lifted.  I think I simply got sick of myself wallowing in what couldn’t be. Tired of the inner conversations I had about it, I just closed the chapter one day. I’d had enough of me.  And with joy began a new page.

Our 60th

Love for a Lifetime
August 29, 1959

~ New Skin New Self ~

  (notes on my journey)

No. We didn’t reach our 60th anniversary, yet its date has transformed into a positive landmark on my journey. As the day approached, two an a half years after John’s death, it loomed like an ever enlarging spectre the closer it came. All summer I wondered how I would endure those hours. I’d survived many special days since becoming a widow, yet this one haunted disproportionally. Bringing with it a melancholy shadow floating just beneath the surface of an otherwise amazing summer.

About a week before the dreaded day however, I realized I was simply sick of dwelling on it - of letting a cloud so permeate my days. Something had to change. I decided to instead, try focusing more deliberately on others, to listen and watch for small opportunities to show interest and caring. That small shift in focus seemed to break down some barrier. By the time that monumental anniversary arrived, the shadow had faded to the extent Iwas truly able to quietly enjoy the day.

I’m finally beginning to feel whole again in a way I hadn’t been able to achieve since losing half of my identity. I feel more centered and able. Like I have come home - am finally coming to be at home with my new self. In the ups and downs of grief, I know more downs will surface. I know the joyful ups will follow too.

Our 60th now stands not only as a touch stone to commemorate the wonderful chapter of our long marriage, it also marks a turning point in my quest to discover who I am without John by my side. I’ve shed old skin and now know I am able to fit well into the still tender, still emerging new.

JoMae

9/14/19 

Moving Day

This little mother moved into a tiny apartment tucked within an old fence post a couple weeks ago. She regularly comes to check on her nest and it amazes me to watch her slip into that thin slot to feed her young. She’s fast! It was hard to capture even this blurry photo.

~~ To Bloom Where We Are Planted ~~

It must be a pickup truck moving day today!  It’s June 1st and all morning, pickups of every color have been traveling these four corners in every direction loaded with mattresses, couches, refrigerators etc probably trying to beat the thunder storms predicted for this afternoon.  I’m enjoying the scene from the front porch as folks move house - to and from this apartment filled city neighborhood.  

As I watch, I think about all the different kinds of moves we each make in a lifetime.  I’ve made few house moves in my adult life, having lived with this view for 40 years already - after starting our family in our first home of 15 years.  

Yet in those years I’ve moved from being a new mom to being a great grandmother.  From raising a large family to being empty nesters and later on to the foreign realm of widowhood. I’ve moved from being a mom to being also a foster mom, to volunteering and to running a small book business.  From my childhood understanding of faith,  to traditional Christian views, to a passion for gender equality - including the need to use inclusive language in our understanding and worship of God.  

So many moves on this long path.  So much packing away the old, unloading the new, regrouping and moving on.  So many blessings!  Yet so much of what I started with remains.  From my faith to my children, my love of books and writing, to the furniture of early days which one day will be carted off in pick ups to a senior lodging I suppose - another fresh start and regrouping to adjust to.

Some of our moves are losses. Some gains. Each one contains lessons, seeds of new blessings and gifts to build on.  May we each strive to watch for the gifts, grow the hidden seeds and endeavor always 

to bloom where we are planted.

JoMae
6/1/19

Bookwifery Challenge

Five Day Challenge on my book idea re Reflections on Loss~

John's Garden in Glass
~an icon of love~

The following pieces first appeared on Instagram responding to a #bookwiferyvisibilitychallenge to answer five questions when considering a potential book idea. Exploring the possibility this way helps clarify goals. 

Day 1 - Name Your Message

My message is to bring insight about grieving both to those who have lost recently and are walking through it for the first time and to those who have friends and family who are mourning loved ones.  To share insights into loss one can only learn by walking in those shoes.  To give a glimpse of small moments that show both the hopeless sense of emptiness and absence as well as the glimmers of new that sprout up from this dark place.  To let people see examples of hope, of unwanted gifts which emerge out of the pain of loss.  To help others see that it is possible to accept those ‘unchosen gifts’ and flourish in embracing them.  To show examples that yes, horrible as this is, some good can come out of the sadness.  One can live on.  Grief can be transformed through the unforgotten love it is rooted in. 

Day 2 - NameWhy It Matters

I believe my message matters because when a loved one dies, we who remain find ourselves in uncharted waters, feeling stunned and lost and in need of finding a new identity. New relationships in a once familiar world.  New balance. It will take much time and healing to be centered again. During this time of adjustment and transition to finding your new self, the voices of those who have walked in your shoes will be invaluable. Their words can be both touch stone and guide through this new terrain. Yet in the shock of loss, one may find it difficult to focus, to absorb long articles. I hope my short pieces will hold the hand of someone in deep mourning. I also hope the experience shared will help friends and family better understand the pain. 

Day 3 - Name Who It's For

Who am I writing for?  First of all, I wrote these pieces for myself.  They emerged from journaling my way to healing after losing John, my husband of 57 wonderful years.  Most of them came out in short poems which captured a moment of insight or reflection on this loss.  Also the hope and healing which often surprised me.  My hope is that these short reflections may be a touch stone for others encountering loss. For both the immediate loved one and friends/family wanting to better understand the many dimensions of loss. 

Loss of a loved one, deposits those left behind in a world of unknown territory. Suddenly we must learn to maneuver strange, confusing thoughts and terrain. Often we are left to translate well meant words that otherwise would hurt.  All the while knowing that before our own loss, we didn’t ‘get it’ either.

I know that at first, I was unable to focus long enough to tackle lengthy articles or blog posts on grief - which became valuable to me later. So maybe my pieces will hold the hands of those whose mourning is still raw, and bring comfort.

Day 4 - Name What You Wish They Knew

What I wish they knew, starts with what I wish I’d known. What I didn’t 'get' when my own Dad died. What I didn’t understand about what my Mom was going through.  The visceral reality of absence. The silence. The void.  Not that anyone else can fill that void, but the acknowledgement of it is so important. A call, card or text from time to time to check in to see how a grieving friend is doing and if they need anything, goes a long way - even if nothing is needed. It is comforting to be reminded you are not forgotten.

I wish I’d known how long the emptiness remains - even when life gets busy again and others think all must be back to some kind of normal. I wish I’d understood these things when Mom lost Dad and when other friends were mourning their losses. I wish I’d known to recognize that the smiles of early mourning are likely masks donned for stepping out, yet discarded behind closed doors.  I wish they knew how self-conscious many feel, not wanting pity. Preferring to stay inside instead. 

Before death comes for one we love, it’s almost impossible to imagine surviving such a blow. I wish I’d known, and others too, that as life goes on, unsought gifts slip in - not to replace the grief, the love you had, but to grow from it as you find your new identity without your beloved one. That out of the seeds of your buried love, you will blossom once again. 

I am so thankful that I had a hobby, in my case it is writing. Alone, now on my own, I let the solitude embrace me and dove into this thing I love to do. I lost myself in words to pass the hours and sort out the confusion. So I encourage others to consider what brought you joy before, whether cooking or music, knitting or gardening… - let yourself be lost in it as time allows. Dive deep. That too, is what I wish others who are grieving, know to do.  

Day 5 - Name How You Can Help

Perhaps I could help by offering thoughtful words in small bites meant to share the heart of one who has also grieved. Someone who has walked in their unfamiliar shoes and struggled with bereavement first hand. While each person’s reality is vastly different, I have found comfort in the insights gleaned from others who are grieving. From others who are members of this unchosen tribe into which we have all been pulled, kicking and screaming. I hope that sharing these vignettes of moments on my journey might hold someone’s hand by being the voice of another who has experienced a deep loss; might be a virtual listening ear to one who is grappling with the same questions and uncertainties I’ve had. 

JoMae
10/29/18

New Seeds

John's Spring Garden

New Seeds in the Garden - A Reflection on Healing

Most of us who have lost a spouse or experienced some other untimely loss, deeply understand the pain, the impenetrable emptiness, the visceral reality of absence.  Death leaves a shocking void which can never be filled and will always mark a line dividing after from before.  

I know that many of you have been on this road before me. I know each tale of grief and healing is unique and moves at a different pace and direction. I have learned much from experiences shared by others. Here is a small glimpse of mine. 

With Godde’s help, I am finding that the void can be molded, transformed into a platform, a garden, if you will, for finding new happiness in life.  For building the ‘after’ you.  For discovering and identifying the person you will now become - after the loss of one so much a part of you.  When  John died, half of me was gone, the rest of me was deeply wounded - floundering and wondering who I would now be after this paradigm shift in my life.  

By Grace, the silence of our empty house, at first so ominous and heavy, became a haven for the hobby I delighted in and for years had diligently carved out time for. The way John loved his garden and his woodworking, I love to write. That is where I’ve always turned to sort life out. So, now given endless time and silent space, I crawled into my words and began to find myself again.  

Losing myself for hours at the keyboard, wrestling with this new reality, reflecting on my world, I soon discovered to my surprise that I was beginning to feel content. I felt comforted, found a sense of purpose, developed new interests. What had seemed impossible became a blessing. Not the blessing I had wanted, but a true blessing none the less.  

Today, embraced by memories, the home we formed together, the love of friends and family, and mindful of Godde’s hand holding me, I am deeply thankful. 

Then too, it’s Spring!  And even in the Autumn of my life, I’m looking at new beginnings - even as I am immersed in the joy of an old familiar hobby where I will continue writing my way toward more healing and discovery.  

This Spring I’ve reached a bit into John’s beloved garden, whose beauty I’ve mostly enjoyed from the porch all these years. It was his palette, his design.  As I clean it up and dig a little, I see him there and think of things to write and say. His heart was there - and mine. 

Dear heart, I’ll meet you in  the garden.

JoMae

5/3/18

Till Death Do Us Part

    
 ~~~Till Death Do Us Part~~~

As a couple ages, thoughts of death begin to enter the mind. One of us would likely be left behind some day. Although in decent health, we sometimes spoke of it. Quite often, actually. Yet in my heart of hearts I couldn’t go there. I could only see the impossibility of going on alone. I couldn’t imagine how I could survive—or want to—the loss of John.

We walked with Godde and knew that Divine Love and Grace would save us from despair when that day came. We lived with that trust and had experienced abundant blessing in our lives. Yet I froze in fear each time I’d try to think about it. To prepare. We were aging. John was sometimes frail.

And then it happened. John was suddenly gone. Stunned and in shock, surrounded by the love of family and friends, I soon realized I’d not fallen into some pit of despair. Christ’s Grace was there, preventing me from falling. Rather than a desperate sense of being buried alive, the loss of any will to live on, I somehow saw steps that needed to be taken. A farewell service to honor John had to be planned. One small purpose after another led me through each day. Looking back, I marvel with thanksgiving that, while Godde often pulls us out of pits, this time those Beloved hands held me from falling in.

Many, many have survived this path before me; we each have our stories. I guess my message is, don’t freeze in fear when you think about it. Christ’s Grace is sufficient and will guide you and give strength and confidence when sorrow comes. You can count on it. For that, I am eternally thankful. It is hard. I miss John, but it was like a miracle to be saved from falling apart, to land in Godde’s arms instead of in a pit.

It’s been more than seven months since John left this world. I often wonder what his new life is like. I imagine his spirit is full of joy and peace and purpose. I, too, find myself in a new world, on a new path. Everything has undergone a paradigm shift. Our home, so full of memories, is the same, yet his voice, his presence, is silent. Or I might say, his presence echoes in the silence. Even so, I am amazed to find joy and peace on this new journey, and even a fresh sense of purpose. For that, I praise Godde with thanksgiving.

We were an item, John and I, as are so many couples the world over. For almost sixty years, we wove a strong yet fragile shell around us. It was a beautiful wrap even with its many flaws. We loved and respected each other, but perhaps the most important key to our long-lived love was that we basically accepted each other the way we were.

I once found a small wall hanging that said: “I want for you what you want for you.” That rather flimsy bit of cloth hung on the wall in our room for a long time, quietly reminding us, when angry or in disagreement, of a sense of balance governing our marriage. Our unspoken goal, in spite of being two very different people, was to put the other first. We often failed in all of this, only to soon find our way back into the warm harmony of our shell.

In later years, the children long grown, our individual threads became more interwoven, threading through and around each other so that when death suddenly took John, it was as if the fabric of our wrap had been ripped apart, forcing me to scramble to mend the brokenness and weave some kind of selvedge to my life, to form some kind of healthy separation so I could continue on alone, to form from the remnants of that broken shell a new security and confidence to move ahead.

Grace has taken on new meaning for me now

JoMae Spoelhof

6/15/17

In August of 2017 this piece was published on ViewPoint, a section of the CFT (Christian Feminism Today) website. 
https://eewc.com/til-death-do-us-part/