Tag: death

The Next Chapter

Published on by Nancy35 Comments
Photo taken on September 2, 2023 – the one year anniversary of Bob’s passing

I conquered many firsts this past year.  The first holiday season without Bob, our wedding anniversary, his birthday, my birthday, kid’s and grandkid’s birthdays.  A granddaughter’s marriage. Hosting family at our home without his presence.  Our second grandson’s birth.  Our first grandson turning 3 years old.  And the biggest one…the one year anniversary of Bob’s death.  

In between the big firsts, there were little firsts. Going to places that we used to go together…coffee shops, hiking trails, restaurants, the lake, visiting friends and family, etc.  Being there, going through the motions but not fully present is the only way I know how to describe the fog and void. The second, third, fourth times doing them alone became a little easier but I’d still rather have Bob with me.

Shortly before the anniversary date of Bob’s passing, I was struggling to let go of the past. I can only describe it like reading a book and wanting to go back to all the good chapters instead of moving forward through the story. 

Around that time I visited my friend, Bonnie, who lost her husband about 8 months before I lost Bob.  

She shared a story about leaving coins on headstones of veterans. I was interested in the story because Bob was a veteran.  I listened as she shared the significance of each coin.

Leaving a penny is a way of letting the deceased soldier’s family know that somebody stopped by to pay their respects.  A nickel means you and the deceased veteran trained at boot camp together.  A dime means you and the deceased veteran served together.  A quarter means you were there when the veteran died.  

The tradition became popular in the United States during the Vietnam War.  It was a way to show respect during a controversial war and to honor the deceased veterans.

Bonnie told me that her late husband would often go to cemeteries of loved ones and leave coins.  

I thought it was interesting but didn’t think about it too much until a few nights later when I had a vivid dream. 

In the dream, I was visiting the cemetery where Bob was laid to rest.  I had several coins in my pocket and wanted to find a veteran’s grave to leave a coin to pay my respects and let their loved ones know that someone had visited.  

I stopped at Bob’s grave and then began walking around.  In the distance I saw Bob’s oncologist standing by a graveside with a tablet in his hand making notes.  Family and friends gathered around and in the middle of their circle was a man in a hospital bed.  A young man was standing next to his bedside crying, praying and pleading with the man on the bed to keep fighting.

I glanced over at Bob’s graveside and he was sitting in a chair.  He motioned to me to come over, I walked over to him, he handed me a folded note and told me to take it to the young man who was crying and have him read it out loud. I walked back to the grievers and handed it to the young man and asked him to read it out loud as Bob had directed.

The young man opened the folded note and read: “Sometimes it’s better and easier to die than to live here in pain with an incurable illness. You just have know when to let go.”

I glanced back in Bob’s direction and he was gone.

I woke up from the dream in awe.

That dream shifted something deep in my soul and I knew that message was for me.

I’m trying hard to let life unfold now and to enjoy the gifts that take me by surprise in this new chapter instead of going back to all the familiar chapters from the past.

As Donna Ashworth says in her poem, “The Edge” – Chapters end, even the good ones.   

Bob will always be part of my story, my life and in my heart.  There’s no escaping that and I wouldn’t want to. I’m in a different chapter now and daily the pages turn and I just keep moving forward.  

Part of moving forward is resting.  God has taken me to the green pastures and still waters spoken of in Psalm 23 and there I have found my faith deepen.  I sit quietly reading the Bible and letting God’s Spirit strengthen me. At times grief still comes in waves but life is a little easier without Bob, because I’m never really alone.  The Lord is near.  

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit
Psalm 34:18

Memories are becoming gifts when at first they were hard to relive.  I’ve been able to frame some favorite photos of Bob and also some of both of us together. Placing them on shelves with other family photos brings comfort and joy to me and I smile rather than feel the intense pain that I once felt when I’d look at his smiling face. 

I could easily miss the beauty in each day if I spend too much time wishing for the ones that already happened.  

I’m taking small steps forward remembering that just because I’m finding enjoyment in life again, doesn’t mean I can’t remember the chapters of yesterday with Bob and see how they’ve brought me here to this place in my story.  

Written by: Nancy Janiga © 2023

The feature photo was taken at Lake Michigan.

A Way Through

Published on by Nancy47 Comments

“You will embark,” he said, “on a fair sea, and at times there will be fair weather, but not always. You will meet storms and overcome them.  You will take it in turns to steer your boat through fair weather and foul.  Never lose courage.  Safe harbor awaits you both in the end.” —Daphne Du Maurier

We have met storms and they didn’t overcome us.  The promise of a safe harbor kept us going  but one of us has reached the safe harbor and one of us is left to navigate the rest of the way alone.  

On August 29, 2022, I wrote:Looking for my Rainbow. It was the day after Bob was taken by ambulance to the hospital for the last time.

I said my final goodbye to my beloved husband on September 2, 2022 as he exited earth for his eternal home.  He reached his safe harbor.  For the last few months I have been slowly learning how to live as ‘me’ instead of ‘we’.

The loss of Bob is accompanied by other losses.  Grief has a ripple effect.  These are often referred to as secondary losses.  The tasks Bob did and decisions he made that he no longer does is a loss.  Being Bob’s caregiver, as hard as it was at times, is a loss and I miss it.  I grieve his sense of humor, coffee together, deep conversations, driving to and walking in favorite little towns along our lakeshore. Now just driving through our city alone is hard. Memories of our life together here surface and waves of grief come again and again. Today is his birthday and I grieve not being able to make a special dinner and his favorite cake or dessert.  I missed greeting him this morning with a kiss and a gift or card. These losses and more take me by surprise but I know it’s all part of healing.  Each one must be felt and not buried if I want to move forward. 

Mind over matter doesn’t work in the middle of grief.  Nor does trying to harness the power of positive thinking.  It cannot be willed away.  As uncomfortable as it is, grief must be felt.  I am experiencing the truth of that… we cannot not grieve when going through loss.  

There’s a sweetness in the grief at times and that surprises me too.  Tears bring relief and healing. It always helps to just let them flow. I’ve read in several grief recovery books that if grief is bottled up it won’t go away. It will just build up like the steam in a tea kettle until the pressure has to be released and will come out at inappropriate times and in unhealthy ways. We can’t avoid it, push it away, try to mask it or run away from the intense feelings. So I’m taking it slow, easy and letting the process unfold.  

I don’t know what I’d do if I was alone in the process.  Sons, daughter-in-law, grandchildren can’t take away the void I feel but being with family and sharing memories of Bob’s love and presence in our lives becomes a buffer.  It helps all of us.  My two sisters have been saving my life.  Although they haven’t experienced what I’m going through, they keep in close contact with me and check in on me often. Family has been a soft place to land.       

Women who have lost husbands reached out to me and long time relationships with some of them have deepened and new relationships with others are developing. It’s encouraging to be in the company of women who understand each other’s pain. These women are a gift. We are a gift to one another.    

The sweetness of grieving is also felt in my relationship with God.  Honesty in prayer has opened up a deeper, richer relationship with Him.  

He is close to the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:3

I dislike the word widow.  It’s hard for me to utter the word but with this new status comes something good that I would never want to miss or avoid. My God holds me closer than ever now.  It’s his promise to me.  He states it over and over again in the Bible and I just learned recently that there are 103 scripture references to widows, revealing the importance I hold in the heart of God. Widows are included with prisoners, orphans — the voiceless — the oppressed–the powerless — and He promises to uphold us and speak for us. 

Through all the pain, sorrow and heartache, I have been invited into the arms of my Savior and my God.  He is listening, defending and touching my heart and His promises to me hold true.

I wrote the following poem many years ago for a grieving friend: 

SAFE IN THE ARMS OF JESUS

In the arms of Jesus

is where your loved one rests

and you can be assured

that’s where he’s truly blessed.

No more pain or suffering

now free from all sorrow

in the midst of singing angels

there is a bright tomorrow.

For all of Heaven’s days are bathed

in the brilliance of God’s light

there’s no more fear of darkness

for in Heaven there’s no night.

Remember, in your deepest sorrow,

you grieve not without hope

and the one who holds your loved one close

is the one who’ll help you cope.

My beloved, Bob, has reached the safe harbor and I am being helped, loved and cared for by the One who welcomed him to safety.  Bob reached that distant shore first.  Now with confidence in God’s guidance and the memory of Bob alive in my heart, I will move toward that harbor where both of them will someday welcome me home.

Nancy Janiga

1/26/2023

The featured photo was taken on the shores of Lake Michigan