Well, I’ve done it. Made it through a full calendar year without my dear husband here by my side. I remember on New Year’s Eve last year, as 2019 arrived, I was filled with such dread and sorrow. It was hard to think that it was the start of a new year without Seth here on earth. He would not be by our side for an entire 365 days…a whole calendar year of experiences he wouldn’t be here for. It was daunting to think that reality was really kicking in and our new life without him was really starting. I was only 6 months into my journey without him, and the thought was too much to bear.
So, I let myself be sad, mourn our loss and feel the pain that I knew would continue to crash in for the rest of our lives. Then I picked myself up and thought, ‘OK, now it’s time to see what we can make of this year ahead of us.’ And now that we’ve made it through the 365 days without him, I can honestly say, I’m proud of how we lived it. We had some really great days, and some really not so great days, but we’ve made great memories, have cherished the old, and honored the many traditions we had with Seth. And did our very best to keep making him proud.
When I think about some of the memories we made this year, I actually find myself thinking we had some perfect moments. Crazy to think that amid our grief, I could even find myself using that word, but I’m here to say I can. Perfect…yet imperfect at the same time. I use the word perfect because we were happy, having fun, doing new things, yet imperfect because how could life really be perfect when Seth isn’t here to experience it with us? That’s the thing about grief, you can have a perfect day, moment, or experience, and yet it is imperfect at the same time, because the one person you want there by your side to experience it with isn’t there. Those moments range from the big stuff to the small stuff.
Perfect moments that were perfectly imperfect.
Seeing Nicholas perform a solo in his kindergarten musical in front of hundreds of parents had me beaming with pride and aching with tears because his Daddy isn’t here to give him a big hug afterwards. Watching our sweet Leah in her first dance recital absolutely own the stage and realizing between the laughs and applauds, the deep ache that her Daddy isn’t here to give her flowers and tell her she is the apple of his eye.
Perfect moments that were perfectly imperfect.
Our first time sledding in the snow and watching the kids play, laugh and marvel at the joy of a fresh snowfall. Our first trip to the beach, watching the kids run in and out of the waves and bury each other’s feet in the sand. Seeing the kids playing in the pool all summer and Nicholas finally swimming and overcoming his fears. Such beautifully perfect moments, that I was so proud we were experiencing, yet moments that made me stop in my tracks because I knew that Seth would be right in the middle of the fun and would be loving these moments. And that, again, he isn’t here to enjoy them with us. Throwing snowballs, chasing the waves and doing cannon balls into the water. Things that he couldn’t wait to do with the kids.
Perfect moments that were perfectly imperfect.
I learned in this last 365 days that we have a lifetime ahead of us filled with perfectly imperfect moments, and I need to do my best to enjoy these moments, and bring with me the joy that I know their Daddy would be having if he was still here to experience them. The ache in my chest will continue to be there, and the pain of knowing how much Seth would have loved each and every moment will continue. But I will make him proud by bringing enough love and hugs for both of us and remind my kids just how proud their Daddy is of them.
Now that the new year is here, I’m filled with hope and optimism and with the idea that there are many great moments yet to come. Moments that will be perfectly imperfect. Yet we will continue to experience the fun that life has in store for us and will continue to make Seth proud. In our own perfectly imperfect way.
I forgot to say that Henry passed away only 15 months ago. Some of us are still coming out of the fog of grief. It is a journey! Be Blessed!
Today, I get up again and go through my daily motions without my husband, Henry. For almost 30 years I shared a marriage full of love and life. Despite a health diagnosis that would plague us at various times, nothing could stop him from living. We shared marriage and ministry, raised our children, laughed and cried at movies, yelled at sport events and held hands in public. Then a week after coming home from his 4th heart stent surgery, he was gone. I was told by the doctor that it was like his heart said, “that’s enough.” God blessed him to see the children become adults and for him to become a Pastor. Well done, good and faithful servant! We celebrate Henry everyday (sometimes with tears in our eyes) of a life well lived. Thank you Dena and all the widows for sharing your story of loss and living. God bless 😇
Thank you for sharing your story with me. Sending you so much love and support and we are on this journey together! Hugs to you!
My heart is with you and my husband passed very suddenly as well and never made it to the ER. It’s so hard to have life change in such an immediate instant and even harder to keep picking yourself up and moving forward. It’s not been a pretty 18 months, but I’m determined to hold on to the beautiful moments we have and know that Seth is with us, and I believe, helping to make those moments happen. Sending you much love, strength and hope as you continue on your journey – we are on it together! Hugs!
44 years ago, a man who bore a close resemblance to Sonny Bono, asked me to marry him. And we sailed, much like you and your kids, through life, knowing that someday it would all change – the kids would grow and move on with families of their own and we would compare aches and pains and share our opinion about the president. And then he was gone. No warning, slight indigestion, a quick trip to the ER, then ICU and then we had to learn to live without our “rock”. Unlike you, we fell apart. I want to believe that my story’s ending will be filled with promise, optimisium, hope.I haven’t had a year yet, but I did go through this past new years celebration missing my friend, my partner, my husband. Thank you for sharing your story and I wish you continued discovery in the years to come.