Today marks two years since the "war of my life" began. It's been two years of finding "plan B." Two years of clamoring for strategies on how to survive without you. Two years of missing you, of grieving, feeling helpless, feeling hopeless, fighting, of battling sleepless nights, of learning, growing, aching, and of experiencing every emotion I have at a greater intensity. So many things have conspired these last two years, it's impossible to sum it up. Last year I found a song that really captures the overall feeling for me these last two years: http://youtu.be/h8_Y_1psB6g. It really has felt like the "war of my life," even though it's just one of many.
As I mentioned, ever since you left it seems I have felt every life's emotion with much more intensity than I ever did before. It's almost as if each feeling flows through my veins and through the very core of my soul. I'm not sure exactly why that is....Perhaps it's because I appreciate and enjoy the "joy" with greater purpose, or maybe because I ache, hurt, and feel anger with a much greater capacity than I ever did before. As a result, it's difficult not to allow the emotions of this day to overcome me. To me, this date is simply not worth acknowledging since it once brought so much pain. But at the same time, the reality of the date is very real and is too much of a reminder of that fateful phone call and the agonizing days and months that followed.
I will always try to battle those negative memories with the many more positive ones that we made and that you made throughout your life. There are indeed so many positive and wonderful memories about you that I will constantly love and cherish. Some of the latest memories I've been thinking about:
--When we'd half our gum pieces and you'd make the wrapper in the shape of an "L" for me. Usually at church.
--When we went to Wolf Creek with my family the summer I was pregnant with Andi. We went on a walk one morning and my family was waiting on us so we could all go up the Nordic Valley ski lift. Everyone always made fun of us for being late all the time. And it just so happens I'm still a late person even now that you're gone.
--How you'd always make fun of my speed walking.
--How Andi and I would be outside and we'd knock on your office window to get your attention.
--How I'd wake up to the blaring noise of x96's morning radio show. So annoying. :)
--How you'd always say, "It's a Christmas miracle!" everytime anything good happened.
--The thermostat at the cabin. You put in the whole a/c unit there, so everytime I go up there and see that thermostat with the "Lee's" logo on it, I am reminded of how wonderful you were to do that. I am reminded of you a lot when I'm at Bear Lake. I feel close to you up there.
--I remember when we were dating how you'd wear that lame "Anger Management" t-shirt and how I thought it was totally geeky.
--Sardine canyon always reminds me of you because we drove through there on our first date. We talked so much on that drive.
--Standard Plumbing, American Standard, Carrier, Johnstone supply....always remind me of you.
--I have all these memories of going to movies with you--August Rush, The Holiday, P.S. I Love You, Robin Hood, My Sister's Keeper, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Starsky and Hutch, The Mother-in-Law, etc. etc. That last movie was the movie you always said was the beginning of your hatred for Jennifer Lopez. :) We had a lot of good movie viewing times together. So many movies remind me of you and things we said while we watched them.
Here's a picture of your hats I have sitting at home:
The famous Nebraska hat was the one you were wearing two years ago today, right before you jumped in the water. This hat is YOU. You should be wearing it right now; nevertheless, we're on to Plan B, aren't we? Today is a negative day, and so I will be honest in saying that while I trust in God, I will never expect to make peace with your death while living on this earth. I will gratefully take God's comfort that reminds me that He is in control, but I imagine I will always struggle to find reasons why you had to leave this earth when you did.
Maybe one of the greatest lessons I've been learning these past two years is that there is always something to learn, always a challenge to work on, and that getting older doesn't necessarily mean things get easier. Life does, however, gain more and more meaning as time goes on. You are most certainly a part of that meaning.
1 comment:
I love the "It's a Christmas miracle" thing. Totally laughed out loud. I want to borrow that. And I like the gum wrapper in the shape of an "L." I am very appreciative of your thoughts. I like how you described feeling everything more intensely. I can relate to that. My son Timmy is an NICU survivor. He was life flighted at 2 days old to Spokane (about a 2 hour drive from where I live in WA) and at 8 days old had a life saving surgery. It was very traumatic, more so than I ever imagined life could be. It took me an entire year to sleep through the night without waking up panicked, wondering if my baby was okay. I still hover over him. But my point is that going through that experience made me "feel" things more. Now, when I hear of others who go through something similar, I have more compassion and I want to reach out and help them. Recently, a friend of mine broke my heart by telling me something she had done very wrong. I was so heartbroken that I called my Dad, who I trust and confided in him the situation and told him how it made me just feel very devastated about all the things that can go wrong in this life. I just asked him, "How can we honestly put up with this place? Doesn't it make you just want to leave Earth and return home? What is the point of all this sadness?" (I was really in a negative mood about what had happened that I won't disclose out of loyalty to this friend). My dad just said, "Now that you have experienced this heartache, it makes you more sensitive than others and therefore, when you come across someone who is going through a tragedy, act on the emotions you feel and reach out to them and make their lives better." Something like that. It got me thinking a lot about the lines Charity Never Faileth. Lisa, you are doing a remarkable thing in your life to have the courage to move forward with Plan B. You will be a great support and friend to your husband and daughters and they will forever be grateful for your love and sacrifice, knowing that you stuck around to love and serve them, all the while feeling so heartbroken yourself. It is the definition of selflessness. You may say, but I didn't choose it but I would argue that is not true. Every day you make a choice to fight. You called it the "war of your life" yourself. It is a choice every morning. I am in awe of that. You are an inspiration to me. You remind me of the words "sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven." I'm going to put your name on the Columbia River Temple prayer roll. You are not walking alone in this life. I have a testimony that our loved ones beyond the veil are right beside us, and that would undoubtedly include your Michael. I am certain he is so proud of you and loves you more than ever. I love you Lisa. I think you are wonderful!
Post a Comment