On the first anniversary of Joe’s death I was somewhat relieved. I felt like I had run a 365 day marathon. I was certain I should find people waiting at the finish line so I could bust through the winners tape and receive my gold medal. It was an accomplishment in my mind and I wanted some recognition.

Joe had fervently asked me to not sell our house for a year. It didn’t make sense to me to live in a house that was too big for two people much less one and yet I did. During the last weeks of his life he was making lists for me and at the top of each list was “wait one year before you sell the house.” In the wee hours of the morning when it was just him and I and no other care givers he would quietly tell me not to sell the house for a year. I felt compelled to honor his request since it was obviously so important to him.

The second year was spent taking this large house and condensing it down to 500 square feet of living space and then adjusting to living in such a small place. At first I felt like I was camping. I would have to remind myself each and every time I parked my car on the street and walked into my tiny apartment that this was my home now. I repeated it over and over again….”this is where you live…this is your home.”

Today is the third anniversary of Joe’s…I never know what to call it…passing away…death…home going. That all sounds too pleasant when actually it feels like this; the third anniversary of the worst day of my life where my husband who was gasping for breath was finally released from his diseased body and was probably the most surprised human being when he opened his eyes to see Jesus face to face and realized that grace is just what the song said…amazing!!!
(One day I will share with you why he was surprised but until then you will just have to trust me…he was surprised!)

Today is the third anniversary and it feels harder for me then the past two. Maybe I was busier trying to adjust and survive. Maybe I realize once and for all that he is never coming back. Maybe it’s the realization that it has been three years and I still have not started a new life and I have no clue as to what that should or could be for me. Maybe the world is just to scary and I don’t want to be here alone anymore. Probably it is all of these things and more.

All I know is this, I feel like a wrecking ball has hit me in my gut and I should be walking bent over because the pain is drawing me into the middle of myself. I feel like I should be kept in a cage with a warning sign saying…”stay back..wounded animal..will bite.”

I know that tomorrow will be better than today so hang in there with me people.

In the mean time I will hold on to the only thing I can…these truths;

Psalm 34:18 The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.
Psalm 73:23 Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand.
Psalm 147:3 He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

This list could go on and on and I encourage you to look some of them up yourself…especially if you too have been hit by a wrecking ball recently.