On Love and Grief

First things first: I want to take a minute to talk about how God has been so faithful (as if He could be anything less than this, but perhaps in His graciousness He is allowing me to see it) to carry my weary head/heart through these past six and a half months.  Really, I genuinely cannot fathom how it is anything other than Him physically picking up my head to move me (and the girls) forward.  I wish it was easy to draw a graph in this blog because I could tell a story of my weakness and God's merciful strength with a graph right now.  Collectively, we are loved more than we know, blessed beyond what we deserve and even still what He is doing for our good is a testament to His ever increasing Glory.  As Winter is beginning to show signs of approaching, so too have my moods/emotions/attitudes started to grow colder and crave more solitude.  I think I would be content to hibernate and just emerge months later to pick up where I left off.  Yet, that's not how life works.  In these past couple of weeks as the coldness of my own emotions has become stronger, God has not forgotten me.  In fact, there's been an uptick in connecting with others (brothers and sisters walking a similar road) that is nothing short of God providing for those of us in some tougher moments.  It really is life giving to find community.

Anyways, on to the topic of conversation today.

A thought that has often been expressed to me, especially in the first few months after Ash died, was that there won't be any new memories together.  Sounds crass when you write it out like that, but it was never presented in a snarky way, in fact, quite the opposite.  It was usually on the heels of a conversation about treasuring her memories or said in a way that 'when she died, that was the end of that stage of the relationship'.  In any case, the idea of this thought is that from the day she died, there is now a new mission of carrying her memory and legacy forward.  While the overall sentiment is physically true, I don't know if it translates to never building something new (without her here) or developing something greater because of her (and perhaps even with her in some regard).  Follow my thought process for a minute (though, not my grammar because over the next few paragraphs it will be horrendous)... [I also realize the danger, that is, stepping into my thoughts, but it'll be alright; just make sure your seat belt is fastened and tray is in its upright and locked position; it's bumpy in there].

I was driving the other day and these thoughts I've been working through finally came into words; so I did what any novice writer would do... I opened up my voice memo app and started talking out loud.  The following is a rough transcription of that voice memo (I say rough, because wow I'll take a rabbit trail REALLY QUICKLY).  I definitely think there could be some additional fleshing out of this concept, but the more I've wrestled with this... the more I've found it starting to bring some focus on some of the compounding grief that I've been walking through lately. [Again, more on that particular grief another time]...

I argue that it's entirely possible to fall more in love with the spouse that you are grieving.  Think about it from this perspective: When he/she was alive and you were married, each of you had your own aspirations and dreams, both individually and collectively.  With the hustle and bustle of life and kids and careers... the focus was split at times and with no reference point or no significant adversity; You didn't really realize what you had until you lost it.  [That's a universal concept, right. I think this can apply to ANYTHING that's of value and lost.  Though for purposes going forward, I'm using a lost spouse for the conversation.] It's not saying that you had a bad relationship or weren't in a healthy spot... but it is absolutely true that you didn't grasp the reality of what you had until it was gone.  The value, the depth, the precious nature of the relationship.  I think that every person that's lost a spouse can 100% agree with that statement. 

Let's think about that a little more because when that person is gone... you spend a ton of time investing in memories, investing in who they were as a person.  You bring so much to the forefront of your mind; not only for yourself, but also for your children (if you have children) to try and generate / recall memories for them that they may not have known otherwise.  This is naturally part of the process and if you don't just run from every painful moment of grief and really try and process things... you will find that you are standing in front of SO many memories and moments of reflection that it consumes a lot of your emotions / thought life.  

[So in my case, Ash and I were married twice as long as my oldest has even been alive.  So there is a whole host of things that my kids don't know about their mom that I get to bring up and educate and fill in for them.] 

I dwell on those moments and pull on those memories WAY more now than I ever did when she was alive (which is "natural" to some extent).  I'd submit that because of all of this recollection and all of this drudging up of old memories (good times and even tough times) both externally for the girls and even internally with my own grief... that through all of that, I've fallen even more in love with my bride now than I did when she was here.  There is something really beautiful in that.  There's something that's also really painful in that.

As time has gone on, that love has done nothing but become greater... I don't have a way to express that toward her.  I can't tell her or show her or demonstrate that for her, specifically for her.  That doesn't mean I can't express it in some capacity by carrying on her legacy by trying to be a great father to my daughters and raising them up and reminding them of who she was.  There is just no way to release the growing love to her.

This is just another aspect of grief. You fall more in love with the person you're grieving because it's who you think about, it's who you are processing, it's who you are reminded of at random points throughout the day.  I almost liken it to the infatuation phase of a budding relationship... you quickly grow feelings of attachment in a condensed amount of time because that person has captivated your attention.  It's more palpable than that though, because it isn't infatuation... it's a recollection of the relationship you have already cultivated.

There's such a dichotomy, again, between grief and love, grief and gratitude, grief and thankfulness. These things not only coexist, but they seem to perpetually make each other stronger.  The more I realize that the love for my wife is stronger/larger now (six months after she's died), the more I grieve because I can't express that to her.  It's a reminder to me of the things I had... that I didn't even understand the magnitude of what I had to begin with.  Though these make each other stronger, it doesn't necessarily mean that it makes them heavier.  The grief may be stronger because of a deeper love, but love has a funny way of making moments lighter and easier to bear.  I really think that's a lesson God is starting to hammer home.  It's ok to carry grief AND love.  In fact, without love, grief has no counterbalance, and it starts to create this needless unsteadiness in forward motion.  It's harder to command a ship with an unbalanced load. 

My takeaways from this: 

As time moves forward, that I'd take this to heart and stand in the present.  Really appreciate what's in front of me.  Really value relationships I currently have.  Do the hard work to cultivate a deep, authentic, genuine love for those around me.  And if there's ever a future relationship that the Lord provides... that I'd take this lesson, that the Lord continues to use Ash in teaching me with, to heart and understand that what's in front of me is a blessing and to appreciate it all the more.  To love and be loved and to do the work to grow that relationship well.  Two months ago, I couldn't write words like that.  They still feel funny and generate a swell of emotions (happy/sad/all things in between), but it'd be dishonest of me not share that part of the process too.

Things upcoming: I'm about to have a chunk of time off of work for the Christmas holiday season.  The girls and I will spend time with Honey and Poppa in Texas.  I'll get some time to myself while the girls stay with Honey for a bit longer.  I'm hoping to do some more writing (detailing the first holiday season without my wife, talking through current events, etc.). I'm also looking forward to goal setting for 2023.  This is a pretty arduous but fulfilling process that involves lots of coffee and concentrated time.  I've done this for the past seven years or so (save 2022, because of the chaos surrounding the time I would've normally done it).  All in all, there's a lot of upcoming moments of family interaction, mental exercises and (hopefully) physical rest... pray, alongside me, that these things would go well.