Decisions At The Cemetery

“If I lie down in the grave, you are there…even there you would guide me.  With your right hand you would hold me.”   Psalm 139:8, 10 (NCV)

It is about a mile and a half to the cemetery where my husband, Dave’s body is buried in my current location.  I walk to the cemetery quite often.  I know Dave is not there, but a feeling of being closer to him occurs when I sit beside the grave stone.

My dog, Annie, has been to the grave so many times that her nose leads her directly to the grave and then she lays down under a nearby tree while I talk with Dave and God.

I remember the day Dave’s body was laid to rest in the casket in this cemetery.  It is one of the most vivid memories for me of the funeral day.  The funeral director, Dwayne Spence, walked me to the gravesite.  It was a warm and sunny September day, but I was cloudy and cold.  I sat on a chair under the tent in front of the casket.  I had been on the other side so many times as the minister officiating at the graveside service.  This was different sitting and staring at the casket.

I have no memory of what was said at the ceremony.  I remember the intense quietness of the flag being folded by state troopers and given to me by the Colonel of the Highway Patrol.  The taps were played.  The guns fired a 21 gun salute.  The bagpiper played “Amazing Grace” and then he turned and walked away from the grave playing and the sound grew faint but still distinct.  Tears flowed for the first time that day.  I had tried to keep it all inside, but the cemetery called for the release of the tears.  It was good-bye to his body and he was laid to rest.  My physical connection with Dave was gone.

After the service and the meal at the church, everyone said good-bye and went home.  I was left alone with my dog.  We returned that evening to the cemetery.  Where else could I go?  I sat with my dog and cried at the fresh grave.  The cemetery was filled with sadness and a deep pain.  I was now alone.

Over the months, I would stop for a few moments at the cemetery.  It became not a place of pain but a place of release and healing.  I come now to be connected to Dave’s spirit.  It is quiet and I am more focused on listening to God speak to my heart.  Dave is with God and God’s Spirit is in me so a part of Dave’s spirit is present with me at the cemetery.

When I need to make a decision or to sort out life, I go to the cemetery.  Every major decision in the years since Dave’s death has been made at the cemetery.  I also go to the cemetery where my parents and grandparents are buried and reflect on these decisions and direction for my life.

The cemetery reminds me of all the people who have come before me and have left a legacy of love in my life.  It is filled with the “great cloud of witnesses” that are the foundation of my life and faith.  The cemetery has become a peaceful place because those who dwell there are at peace and no longer struggle in this world.

A quiet spirit comes over me now as I enter the cemetery.  Some days there is a longing to be there in the quiet and reflect.  Spending time in the cemetery has helped me to focus on what is most important in life – my relationship with God and my relationship with others.  The cemetery is filled with relationships of love.  There have been times I have gathered with family at the cemetery, and in those moments of sharing memories, I hear the difference our loved one has made in our lives.  The cemetery reminds us that our loved one lived and mattered and the spirit of our loved one lives on in us.

The Pathway into the New Chapter of Life

As I reflect on my life with my husband, Dave, I visualize that we walked separate paths in our lives until God brought us together.  We walked the path of life together for twenty-five and a half years.  The path was filled with obstacles, difficult steps, smooth and open meadows, narrow and frightening trails, quiet streams and so much more, but whatever we encountered, we walked together. 

Dave helped me to move further along on the path of life, and then we separated.  He went to Heaven, and I have had to continue forward on a new path of my own life.  I would not be as far along on my life’s path if Dave had not come to walk beside me.  He helped me to see the strength within me, to build my confidence and bring out the good gifts within me.

I wish Dave could continue the journey of life with me, but he was no longer able so God released him from this world.  And because Dave was released, I have been released to live fully on this new path of life.

I took a trip back to the last place Dave and I vacationed.  It was an emotional trip filled with good memories.  The last day of my vacation, I went to the park where Dave and I had walked, and I ran the trail around the town and beside the water.  The trail had been extended beyond where Dave and I had walked.  I ran on this new trail where Dave and I had never been.  I felt like God was saying to me, “it’s time for you to move forward and to blaze a new trail without Dave’s physical presence.”

I know that whatever path God directs me to walk, the memories and spirit of Dave will go with me.  He taught me so much about how to live life and his wisdom, advise, leadership, faith and all that was Dave, will be a part of me in this new chapter of life.

 “In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”  Proverbs 3:6

The Path

For the past 6 years, I have run almost every morning with my dog, Annie.  We have run in four different locations and in each place we have made a path in the grass.  Annie usually follows me and sometimes runs ahead of me.  Depending on the day, sometimes she gets off the trail because her nose has picked up a scent or she sees a deer or rabbit that she chases.  Most of the time, I can call her back and she picks up her own leash and runs back to me.  But some days, I have to go get her and pick up her leash and hold onto her for a while to get her back on the trail.

The path in the grass has become noticeable and we have beaten down the grass. My run has also become my prayer time and quiet time with God.  Over the past 14 years of running, it has been where I have released my emotions and grieved for so many loved ones and very special relationships.

My trail and run has become a metaphor for my grief.  I see God as the steady and faithful runner at times.  Staying on the path and never deviating from the path laid out.  My dog, Annie, reminds me of myself at times.  She stays close to God on the path at times and is obedient and faithful.  Other times, the distractions of the world take over and she gets off the path.  Annie sometimes just stops and waits until I run back around and picks up again with me.   Because of the weather conditions, sometimes I have to run on the pavement and not on the muddy or icy trail.  It feels like I am just going in short circles but at least I am outside and moving.

So what does all of this have to do with my grief story?  Many metaphors of the trail are an expression of my different paths of grief.  Sometimes, I recognize that God is right beside me and I feel close to God and have the assurance my loved ones are with God in heaven.  Other times I feel distance and go off on my own and look for things of this world to satisfy me or at least distract me, but it does not last long.  The only sense of hope in my grief is with God.  Grief gets messy like my path, and I feel like I am just going in circles repeating the same journey over and over again without progress.  But I remind myself, grief is the journey I am now on.  Some days it is intense and hard, and other days it is in the back of my mind but I can live and enjoy the beauty of life around me.

In my grief, anxiety can take control even when I am praying and running.  I then reach out my left hand and grab hold of God’s hand which brings me comfort and brings me back into the present moment.  God reassures me that He is with me and together we will go through this journey.

I am the Lord your God, who holds your right hand, and I tell you, “Don’t be afraid.  I will help you.” Isaiah 41:13

Holding God’s right hand has been what keeps me in the present moment and keeps me from thinking too far into the future and being afraid.  In those moments, I literally reach out with my left hand and grab my Heavenly Father’s right hand and hold it tightly while saying, “God, you have me.  Keep me in the present with you.”

Life is a path.  We all have a path.  The path is not neat and easy but it is worth it.  We learn to live on our own path, not someone else’s.  It is ours.  We don’t always like the path and the obstacles and sorrows on it, but we make it through.  Keep going.

My Grief Companion

My husband, Dave and I rescued our dog almost seven years ago on our wedding anniversary.  Therefore, we named her “Annie” for anniversary.  Dave was now retired and needed a companion while I was at work.  Annie came into our home and won Dave’s heart pretty quickly.  My heart was still with our first dog, Specs, who lived with us for sixteen and a half years.  I never had an inside dog before Specs.  As a child, we always had a dog on the farm but it lived outside.  So Specs or Inspector General II which was his official name, came to live in our house and in my heart for many years.

 Then came Annie.  Annie was a barker and it took a while to house train her, but soon she slept on Dave’s lap during the day while I was gone.  One day, I called Dave during the day and asked if he would do something for me.  He told me, it would be a little while before he could because Annie was asleep on his lap and he didn’t want to wake her.

 As Dave’s health declined because of the tumors pushing on his brain, Annie stayed close by him.  But her barking would send him over the edge and he couldn’t deal with the intense pain that it caused him.  But when the hospital bed arrived in our condo, Annie slept under the bed to guard and protect.  She wanted to be close to Dave.  She spent some hours sleeping in bed too with Dave.

 When Dave died, Annie was under the bed and didn’t want to leave.  She did not like the funeral directors taking his body out of the house.  Annie grieved.  She was sad and didn’t eat well for days.

 After the funeral, I came home and it was just me and Annie, and that is how it has been ever since.  Annie was not use to being alone so I began taking her to work with me and she has become my therapy dog in counseling.  Annie travels with me much of the time. 

 It was with Annie, that I cried and she curled up next to me in bed and licked my tears many nights.  It was with Annie I was angry and she still loved me as I expressed the anger in my grief.  It was with Annie that I had long conversations and she just listened and would lick my face in response.

 Annie has become my companion on this journey.  She has kept me from jumping into any unhealthy relationship because I didn’t need anyone else since I had her.  Annie has kept me active by running and walking and because of her I had to get out of bed in the morning.  My faithful companion has helped me keep a schedule in this chaotic journey of grief.  While we rescued her seven years ago, she has rescued me through my grief.  Annie has been my main stability.

 There have been days when I wonder why I have a dog.  I think I would have so much more freedom if I didn’t have a dog.  But then I understand that by having Annie I did not jump into something that might not have been healthy for me.  I have had to be home which has given me the opportunity to reflect, write, and grow in my personal relationship with God.

 God has given us a companion in our lives, the Holy Spirit.

 “I will ask the Father and he will give you another Comforter, and he will never leave you.”

John 14:16 (TLB)

The Holy Spirit is the Spirit of Jesus that is within us.  The Spirit is always with us.  We are never alone on this journey.

My Grief Story

I grew up in a farm community where people showed respect for those who died.  My parents believed it was important to attend the visitation and many times the funeral for members of our extended family, the community and our church family.  Death was just as much a part of life as was birth.  Living on a farm, I assisted in the birthing of lambs and calves and also watched the death of animals from sickness, naturally, or killed for food.

My parents raised me in the church and I came to accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior when I was in Jr. High School.  I heard and sang about heaven and remember sermons on the “great cloud of witnesses” from Hebrews 12:1.  I visited the cemetery regularly to place flowers on the graves of family members. 

My own grief journey began when I officiated at my first funeral at the age of 24.  I was on staff at Marysville First United Methodist Church and as the Associate Minister had visited the granddaughter of one of the members at his request.  Tami was 23 years old and was dying of cancer.  We developed a wonderful friendship and I was with her and her family as she died.  I came face to face with death as a young minister and watched the sadness and grief of a young husband and a family.  I realized then how important it was to walk with people in their grief and that there were no answers or words that could help the intense pain and sadness.  But it was important to be present and to be a support and comfort in their grief.

Then I experienced the death of my dear Grandma who was the most influential person in my life and faith.  She was 97 years old and was not afraid to die.  She looked forward to being in heaven and reunited with loved ones.  Her faith was strong and her belief in heaven strengthened me.  I was happy for her, but sad for me that I no longer had her physically present with me for love and support.  I shared her legacy and the difference she made in my life in my first book, Love Lighted Path.

The death that made me question my faith and ask “why” so many times was the death of my grandson, “JC” at eleven months old.  JC was the grandson born after I became a part of the family.  I had baptized him a few months earlier and remember holding him in my arms and dedicating him to God.  JC choked on a toy at the home of his babysitter.  There were so many questions and no answers.  Our hearts were broken and our grief was intense.  The hurt has remained.  I had to picture Jesus holding JC in his arms knowing he was in heaven to make it through the heartache, but the hole in my heart remains.

The death of my parents, my dad from complications of Parkinson’s disease and my mom from breast cancer that returned in her bones, left me an orphan.  I mourned my past and childhood.  I no longer heard the words, “daddy’s little girl” and no longer had a mom who could answer all my questions.  I have missed walking through life with them, but am so thankful for all they taught me especially giving me a foundation of my faith in Jesus. 

My mom died a few months after I went back to school for my counseling degree.  It was the first graduation without her, but I felt her presence with me.  I did an internship for my degree with Hospice and stayed after graduation working for six years as a hospice chaplain.  It was in Hospice that I developed a spiritual understanding of the dying process and had my faith confirmed over and over again that heaven is real.  I witnessed people talking with people who had died and seeing angels.  Heaven and earth connected and I was a witness.  I understood the need to walk with people on the journey of grief.  Grief begins many times before death and continues.  Grief is not just for families but for those who form a relationship and walk with people in the dying process.  I developed some very close relationships with those I cared for as a hospice chaplain.  I give thanks to God for the opportunity to learn and grow and to grieve.

My own grief has been defined through the death of my husband, Dave.  Dave began experiencing vision issues and depth perception while driving.  He went to the optometrist and was referred to an ophthalmologist.  Dave had an MRI and brain tumors were discovered throughout his entire brain.  The diagnosis came in February, 2015 and Dave died September 18, 2015.  During those seven months, we walked the journey of dying and living in the midst of the dying. 

I have never felt more sad or lonely than the evening after the funeral.  Everyone went home and I was left alone in the condo with my dog.  My thoughts and emotions were all over the place.  I was thankful Dave was no longer in pain and suffering.  I knew he was in Heaven and was healed, but who was I now and what was I to do?

Thus began my journey of how to live in the different.  I worked, counseled, changed positions, resigned, moved and moved again.  Life has been different and will always be different.  In the process of grieving, I wrote two books, Living In the Different which describes grief and the passages of sorrow and loss.  Then I wrote Life Lessons of a Lone Trooper which shares my husband, Dave’s, stories and life lessons.  Both books have been part of my journey and healing.

Through my deep grief, I have begun to share the journey with others through grief classes and seminars.  If God had brought me through grief and continues to guide me in how to live in this different life, than God has opened a new journey for me to share with others.

Through my blog and grief classes, I will share more of the journey and what God is teaching me about grief and how to live in this different life.

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the suffering and afflicted.  He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted…”  Isaiah 61:1

Introduction to My “Living In The Different” Blog

Grief has changed me.  I recognize life is different.  Different isn’t bad, it’s just different.  It is learning how to live in this different knowing life will never be the same again. I have learned in the changes and knowing that love never ends, it just takes a different form.  Grief will be with me in some form, too, throughout the rest of my life.

I will be sharing random thoughts through this blog about my own grief and how I am living in this different life.  I will share what is hard, and also how I have embraced the alone time and strengthened my relationship with God. I will share some of the insights I have gained through Scriptures and how they relate to the journey of grief.

My friend, Ruth, did not like the word “grief.”  She felt it was a negative word. She was fine using sorrow and loss, but not staying in the sadness.  Ruth’s husband had died 30 years ago and he was just as present in her heart today as he was 30 years ago.  For her and for me, love never dies and our loved one lives on within our hearts.

My sadness is not for my loved ones.  I know they are in heaven, rejoicing with our Heavenly Father and seeing Jesus face to face.  They are whole and happy. The sadness is for the hole that is in my heart, the hole that is in my life when they physically left this world.  My heart aches in the quiet times of loneliness when I miss my loved one’s companionship, laughter, touch and presence.

As I journey through my grief and you journey with me through these writings, my prayer is that we embrace the legacy of our loved ones and how they made a difference in our lives.  My hope is that together we learn to live in this different life and embrace the love God has given to us through Jesus, and find hope and a good future.

“I say this because I know what I am planning for you,” says the Lord.  “I have good plans for you, not plans to hurt you, I will give you hope and a good future.”Jeremiah 29:11 (NCV)