Photo: Pete on flickr

It’s been over 8 months now since Dave died and the earth continues to spin; creation is alive all around us. The sun rises and sets; the tides change and people are moving around this earth at a harried pace.

As my kids have grown and changed over that short time, so have I. Where once I was blessed to be able to claim a peace that could come only from God in the midst of one of life’s greatest trials, I can now claim something even better: Joy.

My heart is filled with it.

It’s a very profound experience… losing a loved one. So profound that it can’t really be explained. Sure, I can tell you what I’m thinking and what I’ve experienced and how that has played out in my life but there’s really no way for anyone who hasn’t experienced it to understand it in any tangible way. Even for those who have lost someone close to them, their ability to understand someone else’s similar yet entirely different situation is weak.

Even if you think you understand for a second, it’s gone as quickly as it came.

Losing a spouse is different from losing a child or a parent or a grandparent or a sibling or a friend. And me losing my spouse is different from you losing your spouse. I realized that no one can feel what I’m feeling and it can be a very lonely place to be, really. But what it has done is make me dig in and seek out my peace, my comfort and my purpose in God through my relationship with Jesus Christ.

I know Mini-Man is experiencing his father’s death all on his own and that kills me. The fact that I can’t understand exactly what he’s going through in his little 4 year old head makes me want to cry for him. He will one day grow up and realize he had to go through his own process that will likely take much of his life to fully understand. And while I want to help him in whatever way I can, he will one day realize I have no idea what I’m doing and if what I am doing is even helping. I’m still conflicted about the thought that Mini-Boy won’t even ever remember his dad. Is that worse? Better?

I don’t know.

If there is only one thing I do know, though, it is that this lifetime is about relationships. Nothing more; nothing less. Nothing else matters. Not our jobs, not our possessions, not where we live, not our hobbies, not our cars, our houses, our clothes, our appearance. It’s our relationships, our experiences and our unique gifts and histories that paint a picture of life that we can share with others. It’s about loving and living and sharing and giving and enjoying creation. It’s about being good stewards of what we have and using our experiences to comfort others.

It’s about serving one another.

This life is filled with trial. My story certainly isn’t the worst one out there… people have gone through far worse situations than mine: war, famine, poverty, violence, oppression, abandonment, abuse. I don’t feel sorry for me… never have. God knows the bigger picture. And just because I don’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

And I trust in that bigger picture.

The earth continues to spin. My heart is joyful. God is working out a beautiful story in my life. I am engaged to be married again. I have no explanation or apology for this and I believe with all my heart that it’s part of that bigger picture… God’s plan.

I will write more as thes story continues to unfold.

If you’re new to my blog or have just stumbled upon it through a search engine, you can read all the entries about the death of my husband here.

Photo: Metro Theatre

Today I dedicate this post to my dad.

Growing up, my dad was the kind of dad who would do anything for his kids. I know he did many, MANY things he didn’t want to do and I know he worried more about me and my brother than he perhaps had to… because he loved us with a heart of gold.

My dad coached my brother’s soccer team for as long as I can remember and always made it to my games too. My dad encouraged me to sing when I was just tiny… long before my shyness or stage fright ever kicked in. My dad waited up night after night during my teen years even when he was the kind of person who would rather get up and start his day at 3am than end his day at 2am. My dad encouraged me to join the military; my dad taught me I can do anything I want to do with enough effort and dedication.

My dad took me skiing even though he wasn’t very good at it. My dad tried to convince me once there was a pancake day, but shhhh… don’t tell mom. My dad always had the stuff I decided I needed to do whatever build-it/fix-it/craft project I tried… he had a million tools. Not sure he even ever used any of them, but whatever… My dad took me on a moped when we were on our summer vacation and spent $1000 on an early VHS machine. My dad always seemed to know what to do when the car would break down at the side of the road… he probably just called AAA.

My dad used to teach school children. On my professional days sometimes he’d bring me to work with him… I loved it! I felt like a celebrity because I got to go in the staff room with the other teachers. My dad joined a band and decided he wanted to learn to play the tenor sax while I was learning to play the trumpet. Sometimes he would take me to sit in at his adult beginner band. At my own band concerts, my dad was the guy you could hear wolf-whistle at the end of every song… he still does.

My dad taught me some very valuable lessons including encouraging me to establish a career before settling down, getting married and having kids (in that order). My dad used to work really hard… I remember report card time. Any kid of a teacher knows about report card time… days and days of late nights and early mornings. I know he put his heart into knowing every one of his students. That’s just the kind of teacher he was. I remember waking up to his records… classical or jazz… my dad adores music.

My dad is 75 years old today.

He and my mom travel pretty extensively now – a few months every year. He also is an active member of his community and has become very involved in community theatre. In fact, he’s in a play called A Nice Family Gathering opening today at Metro Theatre Vancouver – he’s such a good actor I keep telling him he should get an agent and try for movie roles, but that’s probably more my dream for him than his… I’m so proud of him for filling his golden years with rich friendships, arts and the world. I’m so proud of him and my mom for being married to each other for nearly 50 years. I’m so proud of him for always thinking of me and my brother… and for choosing us.

Happy Birthday Dad. I love you.

I hope one day you’ll find the time or the inclination to write down all your wisdom to share with me… you know I missed most of it.

My afternoon captured in photos: