From Distraction to Difficult

Disclaimer: this is going to be a very raw, emotional post. While it is painful to write, and I'm sure read, I feel certain it has to be done as part of my healing journey. So proceed with caution….but know that this is not a plea for anyone to 'fix' anything. I just need to express my feelings.

The visit to the Duggar's was such a wonderful distraction. Unfortunately, the distraction didn't last long - and reality came quickly crashing down. This has been the hardest 2 weeks since the first weeks following Brad's death. I suppose last year I was still in "numb" mode, or at least that is what I'm attributing my lack of memory of things being this difficult. Driving to Springdale was a trigger, as I was flooded with memories of stopping along the way when Nate was little for him to "tinkle" on the side of the road, crying because I saw a man walking along the interstate as we were on our way to spend Christmas day with our families in Malvern, driving through the tunnel and how much fun Brad made it….just to name a few. Once we arrived at the Duggar's, though, my memories quickly vanished and I was living in the moment.

After a fun time with the Duggar's, we had to come back to reality. Upon pulling into our driveway last Friday afternoon, a feeling of dread came over me. I was sure it was because I was overwhelmed with Brad's family coming, needing to finish wrapping, wondering if I had bought the kids enough, worrying that I had forgotten something….all things that really didn't matter. If I had truly been "in the Christmas spirit," I would not have had all these thoughts racing through my head. (Immediately as I type this, God reminds me now that He understands. He knows how hard this is for me. He loves me and cares about me, so it is ok. He knows that I am so grateful He sent His son to earth, but He also knows that my heart is still broken and He has a lot of mending to do.) Back to Friday, my thoughts are somewhat subdued once everyone arrives, but it is just the beginning of my heart aching because Brad is not there. Oh, there are good memories sprinkled in, such as Brad and his aversion to gift cards. My mother-in-law, Sue, decided that she wanted gift cards to J.C. Penney's this year. That's it, no other suggestions. Of course, my first thought was Brad and how he was adamant every year that we not give gift cards. "We might as well just give each other money," he would say. I teased Sue about that when she first gave her request, but then promptly went out and got her a gift card. (My heart aches for Sue, how she has had to endure not only the loss of her son, but also her husband. I could get sidetracked easily and share about that, but I'll save that for another post. I do, though, tell others when they ask how she is doing that "she is not a glass is half-full person….she is a glass is full person." She is always so positive and encouraging and I see such a strength in her that I find hard to recognize in myself.) We had a great time. I love Brad's family, and I'm so glad we were able to spend that time together. Brad's sister, Kristal, loves to spoil Nate and Allie. She gave them a basketball game for the playroom that required a lot of assembly. She, Deanna and Josh, Brad's niece and her husband, stayed late to make sure it was put together. The kids were so excited, and have played with it every day. The whole assembly "thing," though, triggered an issue I have struggled with so much. Brad could do just about anything, as I've written about before.  I'm not completely helpless, I can do some things. But some things require help, and I have such a difficult time asking for it. I guess it's because deep down, I am thinking I shouldn't have to ask for help. Brad should be here to do it.

Saturday morning (Christmas Eve) arrives, and we drive to Malvern to spend the day with my family. I was looking forward to seeing everyone. We always have fun together, telling funny stories, playing games, and lots of eating. Yet, as the day wore on, despite how much fun it was, there was a hollowness creeping up with each passing hour. Time with family is a wonderful thing, but it is also a glaring reminder that part of our family is not here. When it came time to take our annual family photo, I fought back tears as Brad was not there to sit beside me. When I look at the pictures now, I recognize an emptiness expressed in my face, a hint of sadness. I don't think anyone had any idea that I was feeling that way. You see, I'm a people pleaser. I want everyone to be happy. I don't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable or sad or worried. So I kept it all inside. But I could feel it building.

Normally, the kids and I would've driven back to Little Rock and gone to Christmas Eve services at our church. This year, at the request of my sister, we stayed and went to my mom and dad's church. I've only been a couple of times since Brad died. The first time I suppose I was numb. The second time, I experienced the "fight or flight" response that you hear people talking about. My entire family was sitting on one row, with Nate and I in the middle. Out of at least 8 people, none of us even looked at the bulletin to see that "Revelation Song" was one of the songs we would be singing. My first thought was to run to the exit door when the music started and I realized what song it was, but I fought and stayed. Nate and I quietly cried through the whole thing. It was painful, but I know it was necessary for both of us. There are so many memories that flood my thoughts being in that church, but two in particular kept replaying. First, was the look Brad gave me as he walked down the aisle to tell Bro. Chesser that he wanted to be baptized. He had a huge smile as he made eye contact with me, a silent hug between us recognizing the significance of his actions.  He had grown up in church, but had never followed the Lord in believer's baptism. I'm not sure exactly of the date, but I know it was not too long before we were married. Of course, that is the other memory that floods my every thought. We were married in that church. Now, over 20 years ago. We made a vow before we were even married that divorce was not an option. We had some difficult years, but we honored that vow and never even considered breaking it. In our traditional wedding vows, we stated "to love, honor and cherish, as long as we both shall live." Brad loved, honored and cherished me as long as he lived. To be in the place where he made those vows was heartwrenching. I am ashamed to say it was difficult for me to worship. The pain was so searing, so fresh, so all-consuming. Again, kept it inside…it was continuing to build.

We visited a little while longer, then the kids and I drove back to Little Rock. I still had a lot of wrapping to do. While I did have that on my mind, the more prevalent thought was missing Brad and our tradition of staying up together, drinking a glass of wine and wrapping stocking stuffers. We were always so tired, but it was a special time just the two of us shared. Mom and dad came up to spend the night, so mom helped me wrap up a few more presents, then I wrapped the stocking stuffers by myself. Brad used to always say "good job, momma" in reference to the gifts I had bought. How I was longing to hear those words. It dawned on me that it was Saturday, the 24th. Exactly 20 months. I crawled in bed, exhausted, and went right to sleep.

Nate woke me up Christmas morning, and we opened our gifts. My sister had taken Nate shopping for me. Allie had the opportunity to go to a friend's, and she said she trusted TeTa and Nate to buy for her.   I think all in all, the kids liked their presents, but I was disappointed that I couldn't have everything assembled for them. Nate wanted a bench press….Brad would've had it put together. They both wanted a trampoline….Brad would've had it put together. Just simple things that reminded me he is gone. Brad always loved to buy gifts for me, especially. Usually, he would surprise me with something awesome, something unexpected. He has given me things like diamond jewelry, something he had remembered I had mentioned, but one of my most favorite gifts was just within the last few years. It was a silver cross on a stand with an anchor in the middle of the cross. What a most fitting gift from him. Christ has definitely been my anchor through this storm. I've been tossed to and fro on my ship in this storm, but my anchor has held firm. I want to emphasize this as I write about my pain. While most of you can only imagine the pain of losing a spouse, I'm sure you know it is without a doubt one of the most painful things someone could ever endure. (not to diminish any other loss….I have seen friends lose children, and I can't even begin to fathom a loss of that magnitude.) Any loss of a loved one is terrible, but your own loss is the worst one. With that said, I want to re-iterate that my hope is in Jesus Christ, and He is the reason I am able to sit and write about my experience.

Christmas day, a friend offered to take a family picture of the kids and me to send out New Year's cards. We took several shots, and I didn't think a thing about it. That afternoon, my sister and her family arrive for more family fun. Again, we enjoyed playing games, with Allie in particular giving us all a good belly laugh. She was drawing "get an ear full." We weren't following her at all, and when she explained what her picture was, we were all amazed at her thought process. My nephew, Mick said "Allie, I would love to be in your mind." Allie replied with a very serious, "It's a really fun place to be." I'm sure it is! Yet, still in the midst of all the fun, my heart was so heavy. Again, it was building. The next day, my dad;  Rich, my brother-in-law; and Jake, my niece's husband put together the bench and the trampoline. The girls went to do a little post-holiday shopping. As we were pulling out of the driveway, my niece asked half-jokingly if we could play the "quiet game." My mom made a comment about my dad enjoying some quiet, and I couldn't stop the tears. Mom was quick to tell me it wasn't personal, and I wasn't taking it that way. It was just a week's worth of emotions spilling over the edge. I was just so appreciative of everyone's help, but also very sad that I even needed help. Most of all, I was missing Brad.  When we got back, the men had done all the assembling, and everyone was preparing to leave. My friend had posted the pictures she had taken, and had even done a few cards that I might like to send. We looked at them and subconsciously I was feeling the intense pain that it was just the three of us.

Everyone left that evening, and I sat down to look at the pictures and attempted to create a card I was happy with sending. Nothing was right. I couldn't find the right card, but mostly I didn't like how I looked in the pictures, and I couldn't stand looking at the pictures that Brad were not in. I finally went  to bed. I cried myself to sleep. I stayed in bed most of the next day, with several episodes of uncontrollable crying. I had held it in as long as I could. My body was telling me it had been strong long enough. I had swallowed it and suppressed it for so long, I literally just shut down physically. It has gotten a little easier each day, but I still cry very easily and my mind is on auto-play of every Christmas past and Brad and how he is no longer here. Nothing has been able to completely shut off any memories. Watching tv, I see Seinfeld, Friends, King of Queens - all episodes that have something that remind me of Brad. Looking on Facebook, I look at pictures of a party Nate went to at a friend's house. That friend's dad was Brad's best friend. Of course my thoughts were "Brad would've been right there with them." He has constantly been in my every thought the last couple of weeks. I miss him. I miss his laughter, his sense of humor, his generosity…so much of who I am was completed by him. My heart aches for my children. Nothing will ever be the same for us. Except God. Everything about our lives has changed, except Him. That is the one and only thing that keeps me going. Music especially reminds me of Brad. He was always showing me videos or having me listen to a song. He loved songs that had a deeper meaning or message. One of the many that remind me of him is Kenny Chesney's "Who You'd Be Today." It was written more about a younger person than a husband/father, but most of the words ring so true….

"Sunny days seem to hurt the most. I wear the pain like a heavy coat. I feel you everywhere I go. I see your smile, I see your face, hear you laughing in the rain. I still can't believe you're gone. It ain't fair, you died too young, like a story that had just begun, but death tore the pages all away.
God knows how I miss you, all the hell that I've been through, just knowing no one could take your place. Sometimes, I wonder, who you'd be today….
…...
Sunny days seem to hurt the most, I wear the pain like a heavy coat.
the only thing that gives me hope, is I know I'll see you again someday. Someday."

Here's the video: Who You'd Be Today

If you watch all the way to the end, you'll hear my life verse: "Things happen for a reason, you've gotta have faith." I know this to be true in my heart. I know things happen for a reason, and I do have faith. I believe there is a greater purpose in my life, and in my children's lives. But I still miss him, and the pain is still as fresh as it was nearly 2 years ago. The first full year of life without Brad is coming to a close. A new year will begin whether I want it to or not, so I will face it with God leading the way. It is my hope that in the midst of my pain, you are able to see that it is God holding me tight and getting me through each day, one day at a time.

I pray God's blessings be abundant for everyone in 2012, and that we all remember to thank Him in all circumstances.