Brown-eyed Girl

Yes, Dear Reader, it's been more than a month since the last post.  I've actually written manu posts since then.just couldn't bring myself to post them yet. Someday, maybe.  Against my better judgment I'm writing tonight  Read at your own risk. It is unedited.  --jgw3

Six months ago. Six months ago my Bride laid her burden down.after 15 years of cancer, fighting with courage (she'd hate that I write that!), compassion, grace, and dignity, she decided it was time to finish her fight. She finished her fight, deciding she had nothing left to prove. I'm extremely proud of her.

Still, FUCK! The pain I'm feeling today and this week is severe. (Yes, those who know me as a Christian realize sanctification has yet to work its final work in me...military friends know I reserve profane language for particularly emotional outbursts).

I praise G-D He spared Linda the worst of her pain. I praise Jesus that His Name was on my beloved's lips at the end, reaffirming the blessed assurance that she dwells in the House of the LORD now and forever.

Linda's in a better place. Exactly six months ago I was sitting with my bride, waiting for the hospice nurse to arrive and officially pronounce her departed. Silly. Me and my children were with her at 8:23 PM (2023 as I'm more comfortable saying). At that time, we watched her breath her last. I checked her breathing and her pulse in what I still feel was a must-to-clinical manner that did not betray my intense pain and loss even in those first moments. By 2223, the official time of my Beloved's passing, she had already been rejoicing in eternal health. Her reward with the Almighty was merely two hours old. Two hours of eternity. The barest of an infinitesimal fraction of a moment.  I sat with the Temple that was her earthly abode while she started her eternal joy. Angels surely celebrated this saint while I sat with what she left behind. Memories. The  battered body of a warrior. The amazing children and grandchild she ushered into this world and eventually eternity. The remarkable part of her soul that will always be part of me. The remnant of Linda is greater than what most will ever be at their best.

Tonight, I sit in my courtyard smoking a cigar and drinking bourbon gifted to me from good friends who were there that evening. I bask in the love of my children and grandchild who were in the trenches last year and that night. The wailing and tears of my parents, who should never see the death of a child, echo in  my ears as I remember than evening. Friends who made Linda's funeral a celebration of her spirit and ministry. The friends (not friends...family. Family and more) who made their way to be by our sides. Family and friends who were with us in those final moments in thoughts and prayer in ways they will never fully realize here on earth. I am loved by these and by HaShem, Almighty G-D. His angles minister to me even now.

Despite all the joy in my life, despite the blessings I have, I hurt tonight. I'm ripped in pieces. Love is at once the salve and the dagger. It soothes and it cuts. Love is the only thing worth a damn in this world and the only thing that can truly cut your soul in half. Linda, I miss you madly, deeply, truly. This is the last seperation we must endure. In short order, as eternity is measured, I will be with you again. I will be with you forever. We will praise Our G-D, worship at the throne of our Savior, and continue our love throughout all time. Such love cannot have an end. I love you, my Brown-eyed Girl. I have since the mountains were under the sea and will long after this world passes away.

Once More Unto the Breach

It's been three months since I created and made exactly one entry to this blog. I haven't forgotten about it. I haven't run out of things to say. I certainly haven't stopped grieving Linda's passing. Grief is difficult. Grief is incredibly hard. It's devastating  and it’s monotonous. Truth be told, grieving may be the second most trying thing I have ever done. Watching my beloved Linda pass away was the most gut-wrenching, demoralizing, dehumanizing thing I've ever had to do.

So here it is. Five months later. What can I say I've learned (besides the whole "grief is really hard" thing)? Over the next few blog entries, I'll share with you the lessons I've learned so far. (NOTE: Experiences may differ depending on griever. Not valid in all 50 states. Professional griever on closed course. Do not try on your own. Grief may be closer than it appears in the mirror. Not FDA approved. Some restrictions apply)

First, most important Commandment of Grief: There is no right way to grieve. Period. Anyone tries to tell you how to do it, do not waste your time with them. Leave. Quickly. Make up any excuse that gets you away soonest. "Oh, I have to go wash my stereo system". "My cousin's just called and I need to attend his one-armed, tone deaf kid's xylophone recital". "Holy Crap! My cat's on fire!". It doesn't matter, Get away from anyone who tells you how you should be acting, or regurgitates the 5 steps to grieving they learned in their undergrad psych course they took once to get that online degree in Dutch Art History. Grief support is vital and indispensable (we'll discuss that later). Grief itself? Not a team sport. Certainly not a sport where you should take coaching advice from amateurs. Who are amateurs? Anyone that 1) isn't you or 2) doesn't have the word "grief" or counselor" somewhere in their job title.   

I see a wonderful grief counselor. I say wonderful, though I would often describe her as more of a pain, but that’s unfair, What is accurate, painfully so, is that she forces me to do the one thing I asked her to help me with shortly before Linda passed away, namely, mindfully grieve the loss of 9/10 of my life. I want to be deliberate in my grieving and my grief counselor helps me with this. She also sent me to a bereavement support group, a support system I at once despise and love. My apprehension being: Hey, I'm a dysfunctional mess. Why am I teaming up with 15 other folks who probably have worse coping skills than I do? Does this Grief Counselor mental health "professional" not see where this can go hideously wrong? Turns out, sometimes just seeing how messed up others are can be of great benefit to you. Also, the act of helping others helps you. Yeah, that sounds New Age'y like I should break out the tie-dyed hemp shirts and matching flip-flops, but I'll be skinned alive if it isn't true. 

Speaking of being skinned alive, next time I'll tell you how grief will no-kidding make you fell like you're locked up naked in a Syrian prison with an angry man, a tarp, channel locks, and a cheese grater.