Deat died five years ago, February 23, 2008.
In some ways, it doesn't seem so far in the past. When I look at what's changed between then and now, it seems like a long, long time. P.D. and B.B. aren't 6 and 2 years old anymore; they're 11 and 7. My youngest is older, now, than my oldest was, then.
I've been building up toward this post for several weeks; unsure of what I wanted to say but sure that I needed to say SOMETHING. I decided to include an inventory similar to one I've used with clients to see if those ideas lead somewhere interesting. They did for a bit, but it still took me 3 more days to finally finish.
Family - Deat and I hoped to foster a sense of "all for one and one for all" in our family culture. It's hard to be objective, but I like to think of us as a tight little team. I think the girls understand that we depend on each other, and we each have to contribute to make this thing run smoothly. I think in some ways the adversity probably bonded us a bit tighter from necessity. I will admit, I still wish the girls' had the benefit of Deat's life perspective to compare and contrast with mine as they decide for themselves where their values and priorities lie. Luckily, I have a pretty good memory and share as much of who he was with them as I can.
As for extended family, My parents and siblings still live in or near P-town, Deat's are still in J-town, and all of them are still my family. Sometimes folks are surprised to learn I have a close relationship with Deat's parents and his brother and family. It's hard for me to imagine the kind of pain it would be to lose them, too.
As for extended family, My parents and siblings still live in or near P-town, Deat's are still in J-town, and all of them are still my family. Sometimes folks are surprised to learn I have a close relationship with Deat's parents and his brother and family. It's hard for me to imagine the kind of pain it would be to lose them, too.
Friendships and Leisure Activities - In my married life: Deat was my very best friend; Sabrina filled most any of the gaps in between... not to mention that the girls were small and there just wasn't room or time for outside socializing.
Five years later: Over time, God has blessed us with a tight support network of friends to hang with. In just the past year we've been to several cookouts, taken a group trip to the Knoxville Zoo, a group trip to the aquarium in Gatlinburg, went to and hosted Christmas parties, hosted a five-family yard sale, had several get-togethers with just the Ladies and other get-togethers for the whole families, both here and at others' homes, had overnight guests from out of town twice, had Theatre Babies coming over for dinner, participated and performed in a few plays.
The common theme of all these activities? Lots of love and laughter. I can't imagine being more blessed than we are.
Health/Exercise - See previous post
Work/Career/Education - Big changes there. In February 2008 I was in my 9th year as a membership representative for the nation's largest small business lobby. I signed up new members through cold calling; renewed existing members through delivery of an annual progress report. I had a large territory that extended into several counties. And I soon realized I had no more desire to get out of the truck and actually DO my job than the man in the moon.
Part of the problem was that I traditionally gave a very folksy pitch that included anecdotes about the things my husband would say. I didn't know how to adjust it to take Deat out of it. Add to that plain old grief and situational depression; I didn't have much desire to talk to anyone; much less about the politics that were often of more interest to Deat than to me.
I realized part of the reason I loved the job was because I "shared" it with Deat: I just didn't want to do it anymore, but had no idea what I could do. So God told me. In January of 2010, I returned to school, and in 2012 I finished my M.Ed. in Counseling and Human Development.
Today I am a licensed counseling associate working for an agency. Interesting that I left my old job in part because I shared so much of my own life in it, and moved to a job where my experiences help me to relate to my clients, but the less I discuss my own life, the better.
Most important lesson of late: Empathy does not mean putting MYSELF in the client's shoes; I know how I think and it's unlikely that the client thinks the way I do. Empathy is closer to understanding how my client feels about the shoes he or she is wearing.
I realized part of the reason I loved the job was because I "shared" it with Deat: I just didn't want to do it anymore, but had no idea what I could do. So God told me. In January of 2010, I returned to school, and in 2012 I finished my M.Ed. in Counseling and Human Development.
Today I am a licensed counseling associate working for an agency. Interesting that I left my old job in part because I shared so much of my own life in it, and moved to a job where my experiences help me to relate to my clients, but the less I discuss my own life, the better.
Most important lesson of late: Empathy does not mean putting MYSELF in the client's shoes; I know how I think and it's unlikely that the client thinks the way I do. Empathy is closer to understanding how my client feels about the shoes he or she is wearing.
With that in mind, I do want to share a bit about the shoes I wear and what they mean to me:
1. I am not broken and I don't want to be treated that way. I've moved through the worst of my grief. If anything, I'm less vulnerable: Very little about the future scares me anymore. The worst thing I could imagine happening, happened, but I survived it. I'm here, my girls are here, and we're okay.
Am I the same person I was five, six years ago? No. I wasn't the same person, in 2008 that I had been in 2003, either. If I seem quirky and strange, well, believe it or not, I was quirky and strange before I became a widow, before I became a wife. T.L. can attest to that.
1. I am not broken and I don't want to be treated that way. I've moved through the worst of my grief. If anything, I'm less vulnerable: Very little about the future scares me anymore. The worst thing I could imagine happening, happened, but I survived it. I'm here, my girls are here, and we're okay.
Am I the same person I was five, six years ago? No. I wasn't the same person, in 2008 that I had been in 2003, either. If I seem quirky and strange, well, believe it or not, I was quirky and strange before I became a widow, before I became a wife. T.L. can attest to that.
2. My life doesn't need "fixing." I don't need a husband. I don't need a boyfriend. I don't need a shoulder to cry on. I don't need a substitute father for my girls. If I need help, I ask for it. Our gang of friends includes some really fantastic examples of upstanding faith-filled men who look out for us. I also have an awesome brother and brothers-in-law. I have plenty of models to help me show the girls how a good man conducts himself so they'll know when they're old enough to start evaluating their own potential suitors. (And with that bunch of fellas looking out for my girls, I feel sorry for the first guy to come calling!)
For me, I'm not saying I'm opposed to a romantic relationship. I'm clarifying: if I do have a man in my life, it will be because I allow him to be, not because I need him to save me from the life I have. Right at the moment, I don't see a great deal of free time to pursue such a relationship, but if I did find room, let me add a warning: if I complain, don't try to fix it, try listening... that's probably all I want.
3: I see myself as blessed. And that's how I want you to see me. Don't cry for me for the loss of my husband; rejoice with me that I had the privilege to be his wife. I got to be married to the greatest guy I ever knew for almost 9 years, and I have the wonderful second family he left me, as well as two beautiful girls to carry on his legacy. Why would you feel sorry for that? My challenges of the past five years weren't/aren't greater or lesser than yours. They were/are just different.
Finally, I won't pretend that I was Miss Strong and Brave all the time. There were periods in there that were truly horrible, and feelings I hope I never experience again. Do I still miss Deat and wish he were here? Without question. Little things can still bring fresh pain. That said, as time goes on, it does get more bearable, and easier to live with.
At some point the "new" normal stops being the new normal, and without fanfare, it becomes simply, THE normal. The resentment of not living the life you had planned gives way to acceptance of the blessings in the life you still have.
To paraphrase the reminder plaque our beloved neighbor, Miss G. (also widowed), plunked down on my end table on a day when I came to her crying and struggling:
For me, I'm not saying I'm opposed to a romantic relationship. I'm clarifying: if I do have a man in my life, it will be because I allow him to be, not because I need him to save me from the life I have. Right at the moment, I don't see a great deal of free time to pursue such a relationship, but if I did find room, let me add a warning: if I complain, don't try to fix it, try listening... that's probably all I want.
3: I see myself as blessed. And that's how I want you to see me. Don't cry for me for the loss of my husband; rejoice with me that I had the privilege to be his wife. I got to be married to the greatest guy I ever knew for almost 9 years, and I have the wonderful second family he left me, as well as two beautiful girls to carry on his legacy. Why would you feel sorry for that? My challenges of the past five years weren't/aren't greater or lesser than yours. They were/are just different.
Finally, I won't pretend that I was Miss Strong and Brave all the time. There were periods in there that were truly horrible, and feelings I hope I never experience again. Do I still miss Deat and wish he were here? Without question. Little things can still bring fresh pain. That said, as time goes on, it does get more bearable, and easier to live with.
At some point the "new" normal stops being the new normal, and without fanfare, it becomes simply, THE normal. The resentment of not living the life you had planned gives way to acceptance of the blessings in the life you still have.
To paraphrase the reminder plaque our beloved neighbor, Miss G. (also widowed), plunked down on my end table on a day when I came to her crying and struggling:
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| "It's (still) a wonderful life!" |
