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.
Pens and Journals 