Over the years, in various blogs, I have shared that my late husband, Bret, wasn’t exactly the easiest person to be around.
Oh, sure he could absolutely be the life of the party. But at home, with no one new to gravitate to, he could be a very different person. And that person was an incredibly troubled soul.
In the almost twelve years that we were married, more often than not, the latter is more aligned with the Bret I knew, particularly toward the end of his life.
Our time together was peppered with arrests, counseling, probation, emergency room visits, hospital bills, and every other kind of calamity a human person might encounter when dealing with mental illness and addiction.
That’s not to say that there were no good times.
Honestly, some of the very best times were during our hurricane of a life together.
And there was always one consistent thing amongst it all.
That was him constantly encouraging me to write.
He knew writing was my thing – it was one of the first things he noticed about me when we first met on MySpace back in 2006.
Throughout the years, he held true to his belief that it would be my writing that would provide the security we would need to live a relatively smooth life. (Our smooth times were few and far between and we had spent our years looking forward to a time that never would come.)
In 2017, he surprised me with a trip to Maui to attend a prestigious writer’s conference.
Bret could absolutely spend money like a pro, but this little expenditure really surprised me. If I had ever had any doubt about his belief in my future as a writer, this completely canceled it out.
Sadly, he didn’t live long enough to see me publish my first book.
And it was only because he left me widowed, that I was able to become a regular blogger for a well-respected blog with Hope For Widows.
I have doubted his love for me, I have doubted many things including my own thoughts about my writing career, but one thing I have never doubted was his faith in me as a writer.
The other day as I was scrolling Facebook memories, I came across something he had posted on my page.
It was perfectly timed too. I had just received a rejection to a query for a new book I’m working on. (Rejections are normal but they still sting.)
There he was, still encouraging me to keep going. And he has been gone going on seven years.
I’ll keep a humorous collection of my rejections.
I’ll press on until I have the security that he had hoped for all those years ago.
If he could believe in me, then maybe I should believe-in-me as well.
(And my undying gratitude for the encouragement that I receive from my living loved ones & supporters as well.)
Image by D. Ohi via Giphy
About Layla Beth Munk
Layla Beth Munk is a blogger & author who was thrust into this widowhood journey abruptly and tragically on February 11, 2018. Her husband of 12 years had ended his pain once and for all. She soon made the decision that she would not let his final decision define the rest of her life or their daughter’s life, so with her sense of humor at the helm, she started writing about her newfound station in life. Grief waves still get to her, and probably always will, but with the help of her fellow widows as well as friends and family, she has been able to realize her dream of becoming a published author! Layla is so grateful to Hope For Widows Foundation for providing this level of support to her, and so many others! Layla has two amazing children, one who is grown and one who is almost grown. She lives in eastern Oregon and has a wellness & beauty background. Layla enjoys writing poetry, watching anime, and homeschooling her daughter.
Her blog can be found at laylabethmunk.medium.com and her debut novella, 24 Hours in Vegas, is available on Amazon.