This Sacred Day - Honoring Our Loss

It’s August 20th, the second anniversary of losing Rob. On some levels, today feels like just another ordinary day. It’s a Tuesday. I’ll feed Josiah breakfast, then take him to school. I’ll go for a run. I’ll shower. I’ll do my hair. August 20, 2017 began ordinary too. I cooked breakfast for Josiah and Rob. We went to church. Rob took Josiah to the store and I went to the gym. But then he went for a run and never made it home.

Today I’ll go visit my late husband’s grave. I’ll lay fresh flowers at the memorial where the accident happened. I’ll field texts and calls from many of you telling me you’re thinking of me. Nothing about that is ordinary.

I’ll often find myself reflecting on how deeply his death changed me as a person. I wouldn’t be who I am today had none of this happened. And that honestly breaks my heart a little bit. I hate that I had to go through something so tragic and profound to become who I am now. I’d like to believe I could have experienced the change and growth without losing him, but I don’t think that’s the case. And that is the number 1 reason why this day will never, ever be ordinary.

This second year has been a beautiful unfolding of redemption. An unwrapping of promises and prayers. It certainly didn’t begin that way. For several weeks after the anniversary last year I felt like I was completely out of control. I was in a deep, dark, suffocating hole. I had a tug-o-war rope tied to me, and on one side I was unwilling to leave this place of attention that widowhood gave me. The other side was pulling me in a direction that yearned to let go; it told me I couldn’t move forward with joy unless I let go of the need to live in grief. And so then I made the decision. I planted my feet at the bottom of that dark ocean floor, and I pushed with all of my might until I came up to the surface and breathed in deep into a new beginning.

I’ve experienced a lot of guilt in these days leading up to the anniversary. I felt like I was supposed to be more sad, that it somehow meant I loved Rob less now. I shared these thoughts with Robert and he just took my hand and looked me square in the eyes and said that if he were Rob, he would be SO HAPPY to see me so happy. He wouldn’t want me living in sadness forever. He sees the way I honor Rob and speak about him all the time. It’s obvious I still love him deeply, and it’s 100% okay that the way I grieve now is different.

Thank you for showing up to read my words today. Thank you for standing beside me. Thank you for remembering Rob and saying his name. And thank you for sharing in my joy this year. I hope I can continue to steward our story well.

I want to leave you with the words I wrote a year ago:

Death took something from me, and I grew.

I lost love, and I learned to love deeper. 

Death saved me. It awakened me. It removed the grip of this world and tethered my heart to heaven.