I started writing this a
week after my wife Linda passed away from her long battle with cancer. It's
taken me a while to create and post this blog It's been two months nearly to
the minute as I type this that she left me us. Much too soon.
Why a blog? I want
a place to document my grief and the process of change I'm going through. I
want my grief understood by others for whatever help it may be to them and as
an act of catharsis for me. A grief observed is a grief most effectively worked through. May this provide comfort for some and insight for
others.
Blessings,
Johnie
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Life forever changed two
months ago. I buried my Linda. She was my best friend. My
lover. My companion. The mother of my children. My beloved
bride for 25 years. She fought cancer and beat it back for
nearly 15 years, showing courage, perseverance, and the greatest of human
dignity. We married young, when I was 19. I cannot remember a time when I was not “Johnie and Linda”. Now
she’s gone and I’m half of who I once was.
This was a hard year. I say this as a retired military officer, a veteran of the War
on Terror and, nearly as terrifying, a father who successfully raised two
children though adolescence relatively unscathed. Linda’s breast cancer
metastasized in 2007 and in March of this year this insidious, merciless blight
spread to her cerebral spinal fluid. She beat the prognosis for every
diagnosis she received. In the end, G-D granted her the ability to
lay down her life when she was ready, on her terms. Her death certificate
says she died of Stage IV Breast Cancer, but that’s because we don’t possess
the language to describe the truth: Linda had nothing left to prove to
cancer or anyone else, so she decided it was time to rest.
My Linda was a Warrior Queen. Resplendent in Glory and draped in
Honor. Heaven’s most mighty angels surely welcomed her as an equal; a
soldier worthy of praise for the many battles she won. I morn her loss as
profoundly as I admire her fighting spirit.
You would imagine
with almost 15 years to ready myself, this transition would not be so
difficult. Linda and I planned every aspect of her fight against
cancer. Meds. Treatment. Even how and where she wanted to die. We tackled the tough questions of faith that accompany such a good woman
facing such a horrible disease. What I didn't plan for, even a little,
was what to do after she was gone. Sure I had life insurance and that
type of thing. I like to think myself a good provider for my
family. All that aside, I did not plan to no longer be “Johnie and
Linda”. I did not want to acknowledge the end of the fight. I did
not plan for the inevitable life after being a couple because I felt it would
be defeatist. I did not plan for where I am at now and where I stand
scares me to my core.
When you are joined in
Holy Union, two become One. It is a beautiful and sacred process; one
that I was privileged to experience in the best possible way for 25
years. The down side is that when half of you is called to their Eternal
Reward, the process of Two becoming one is painful beyond belief. The
separation is not surgical and there is no anesthetic. It’s a tearing and
ripping that is done while you are fully conscious and it hurts like hell.
