This is my view today on September 19, 2018
I am so blessed to have this view.
We are not flooded from Hurricane Florence.
We did not have trees down.
We didn't even lose power for more than 20 minutes
during the entire 4 day ordeal.
I am so very thankful!
My children are good.
Crystol is married to Alan and
she works in a career field she loves.
Anna has finished college, has started her first full time job,
and is enjoying it.
Wesley is a freshman in college and is doing well.
Luke is a homeschooled 10th grader and,
other than having to get used to being the only one
at home all day long, is doing well.
I am so very blessed!
Life is good and I like my view.
But I cannot help but remember my view 7 years ago today.
7 years ago today, I was watching my husband die.
God healed my heart many years ago now
but we will never stop missing my Rob
and this day is always hard to walk through.
And impossible to forget.
I will repost the past years' September 19th blog posts
for those who want to read them.
It will all be too long for some to want to read.
But those who need it,
those new widows or widowers,
they will read every word.
It is for them (and those new to my blog) that I repost these.
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Monday, September 19, 2016
Monday, September 19, 2011 - The Worst Day Of My Life
My view today from my dining room window.
Such a serene view
and the boys and I are having a good day today.
But the sights that run,
(unbidden but not unhealthily forbidden either),
through my memory's theater
every year on September 19th
are far less serene.
5 years ago today,
September 19th, 2011,
was (and still is) the worst day
September 19th, 2011,
was (and still is) the worst day
I have ever lived.
Rob died at 4:13 a.m. on the 20th
but it was the 19th that held the most agony.
There's not much more that can be said publicly about that day
that I have not already written in years past
so I am just going to repost the past "September 19th" blogposts
for those who are new to my blog or
for those who want to read about it again.
But I will first say that I am so very blessed.
I am healthy and our children are healthy and content in their lives.
And although I sure do wish it could have lasted longer,
I am grateful and thankful
(and at times amazed)
that my love story with my Rob happened at all!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Previous years' posts:
Written on Saturday, September 19, 2015
Today's View - September 19, 2015
Today is September 19th, 2015.
I am sitting on an oceanfront balcony at the beach outside of a condo
that was booked last minute just this past Wednesday.
It is a spectacular view!
I came out here early this morning and watched
as the sky changed colors with the rising sun of a new day.
I am listening to the rhythmic sound of the crashing waves
as they start their outward retreat toward low tide.
And, as I sit here now at 7:55 a.m,
I thank God that my life is as good as it is.
My children are healthy.
I am healthy.
Our needs are met.
Anna is in her 2nd year of college and making final decisions on which university to transfer to for her junior and senior years (she’s thinking UNC-Chapel Hill right now – don’t you know Rob would be simultaneously rolling his eyes that she’s considering Duke’s rival AND grinning ear to ear with pride that his girl could get into Carolina?).
Wesley is 6 feet 5 inches tall, has started 10th grade, has his driver’s permit, is an officer in his church youth group, is representing our church in a conference-wide, year-long program, and is in a community theatre play.
Luke has started 7th grade, is already ahead of his math schedule by 2 day’s worth of lessons and work (we just started this past Monday), he is getting taller, and his voice is just beginning to change.
Today is September 19th, 2015.
And I am blessed.
My life doesn’t include everything I would like and it includes some things that I wish it didn’t but isn’t that the way it is for everyone?
So, for the most part, I can say that life is good.
Today is September 19th, 2015,
4 years exactly since the worst day of my life.
Rob actually died on the 20th,
but it was the 19th when I woke up to the agony of an unconscious husband
and it was the 19th when I knew he was dying
and it was the 19th when I had to tell his children and his parents
and it was the 19th when I had to watch his body shutting down.
The 20th actually brought relief because
I knew my Rob was no longer suffering from any issue
and he was standing in the presence of God.
I had not planned on writing a blog post today about it being the 19th but I got a message from a really, really newly widowed person last night
who was saying that I seemed to have it all together and how in the world did I get to that place of peace and when will the agony stop and how do you keep functioning AT ALL with all of the memories bombarding you all day long and how do you take care of children alone when you’re used to a team effort and how do you ever even sleep at night again without the tortuous thoughts crashing in over and over again of the person you loved more than life itself being ripped from your world and now you are coming to grips with being ALL ALONE and all of those horrible, heart-wrenching thoughts and feelings that go with the VERY beginning!
It is so hard to describe but it feels like it’s nothing short of torture!
I want that person to know that
you can make it too!!!
So, for those of you who are reading this thinking,
“Will it ever be okay again?”
- let me assure you once again –
your okay will come.
Time will not change the fact that you miss your person.
Time will not change the fact that what happened was almost unspeakable.
Time will not change the fact that you are no longer part of what you once were.
Time will not change the fact that, at times, the memories will overwhelm you.
Time will not change the fact that you will feel like something is missing.
Because it is.
But, at least for me,
time did soften the edges.
At least for me,
my heart did heal.
For a good, long time now,
I have been okay.
And that feels good.
So today, on September 19th, 2015, I plan on spending the day with my children having fun on the beach and in the pools and eating the breakfast buffet and who knows what else.
I will look at the clock and immediately remember exactly what I was doing
at that same time 4 years ago.
It’s just the way my mind works.
But it will not stop me in my tracks
and it will not return me to the agony.
Now, it’s almost life-affirming.
When I think of that day of agony,
I realize once again that I am a survivor.
My kids and I have risen from the agony to a full-blown blessed life.
And no one has come in to magically rescue us.
God hasn’t sent me another husband
so I still don’t have anyone to hold me when I’m afraid or sad
or just want to be held.
God hasn’t sent a man to step in and be a father figure for my children
so they still don’t have that male influence or guidance that children so need.
With God’s help, we’ve done it on our own.
We’ve had to.
And I’m actually proud of that.
And I want you to know that you can make it too.
Even on your own, YOU CAN MAKE IT!
~~~~~~
Our condo has this beautiful stained glass window right by the door.
Just gorgeous!
Our condo number immediately caught my eye.
"16" is the date of my first date with Rob.
"23" is the date that we buried him.
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Written on Friday, September 19, 2014
Agony Revisited (September 19, 2011)
This is my view today, September 19, 2014.
What a great view I have today!
But remembering the view I had on this date 3 years ago
still makes me catch my breath
every
time
I
say or write
it.
When I think of September 19th, 2011,
I will always think of the word AGONY.
For that day truly was, as I titled it on last year's post,
"the WORST day of my life."
The day my Rob's life hung between life and death.
Rob lived for almost 24 hours after we found him unconscious.
(My then 8 year old Luke found his dad unconscious at 4:45 a.m.
on Monday morning, September 19, 2011.
Rob died at 4:13 a.m. on Tuesday morning, September 20, 2011).
And even though God's strength, mercy, and grace abounded
all throughout the rooms where we were,
those 23 and 1/2 hours were the worst and hardest hours I have ever lived.
I only left Rob's side when the nurses made me leave
(and that was only 2 or 3 times).
My Aunt Sarah brought me a chicken sandwich to eat
during one of the times they made me leave.
It was so dry and tasteless.
To this day, when I have a chicken sandwich,
I have to drench it with as much mayonnaise and ketchup as I can
just to drown out my memory's taste of that day.
My kids and I are doing good.
Taking care of ourselves
and each other.
Anna started the day out today by baking
peanut butter cookies for her Psychology class.
Wesley and Luke, as usual, put off starting school
as long as I would let them.
My kids are happy and doing well.
But even the youngest,
who honestly (without prompts) only remembers
bits and pieces about his dad,
remembers the agony from that day.
And, even though we don't revisit it often,
and we never visit long,
it's always there
waiting patiently
for our presence.
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Written on Thursday, September 19, 2013
The Worst Day of My Life
Today’s KLOVE verse of the day: (Very appropriate for me today)
There is a time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance.
~ Ecclesiastes 3:4
September 19, 2011 (2 years ago today) was the worst day of my life. It was the day of struggle between life and death for my Rob. By the time Rob died at 4:13 a.m. on the 20th, I knew and had peace that death was the most merciful thing for him. It was the 19th - while watching the struggle between life and death - that was the most horrible.
Time was both SO relevant and so NOT relevant that day.
Nothing mattered except being with him every second.
But everything mattered as the seconds ticked on and on while I watched his body go through the very efficient process of shutting down.
I remember the doctors telling me early on that if he didn’t wake up by a certain time – that he probably would not. I remember looking at the clock, wanting to grab it off of the wall, and slam it to the floor when the hands ticked past that hour and he was not awake.
I was still by myself with Rob then. I had purposely not called in anyone yet (except my sister who was at my house with my children). We were still in the ER waiting for him to be stable enough to even be moved to ICU. It was just Rob and me – with no one watching except my God. I had wanted that time for just us – because in my gut, I knew he was dying when we first found him unconscious. Although he was unconscious, I took those couple of hours to tell him everything I needed to tell him even as I continued to beg him to come back to us. And I told him he did NOT have my permission to die. I am so glad I took that time with just my Rob and my God. I needed it for the day to come as I called others in and shared him with all of those who loved him. And I’ve needed those hours with him in my memory as time has continued to move on.
I am thankful that God was the One to orchestrate the events of that day. He made possible so many things that benefitted Rob, my children, and me. I am thankful that Rob (according to all of the tests) never felt any pain even though our pain was only growing. I am thankful for everyone who helped me in any way that day. I’m sure I will leave someone out if I try to list them all so I will not try that right now. But I do want to say thank you to my sister, Joan, who came as fast as possible to be with my children. Thank you to Jimmy Wooten, Rob’s minister friend who stayed until the very end. There are so many more to thank – we had such a parade of friends of family who helped sustain us that day. To all of you, I thank you. And I will, for as long as my mind works, be thankful for and will never forget my Sally Ann. My sister-in-law, Sally Caviness, is an ICU nurse. That day, she was my lifeline to sanity. She stayed by my side from the moment she arrived around 10 a.m. to the moment Rob died the next morning, explaining – through her tears and mine - everything that was happening along the way. There is nothing that prepares a person to watch a husband die. But Sally was God’s buffer for me to absorb it. She tells me she has never been the same since. I’ve heard that from a lot of people about that day.
It was a horrible reality - that day. But it was also a day of being surrounded by the love of all those coming to see him and us (which was at least 60 or more over the 24 hour period). It was also a day of God’s love spread throughout that waiting room and into his ICU room.
God’s presence was palpable. And nourishing to my soul.
I was reminded of how Rob would start most of his church services:
“God is good – all the time.
All the time – God is good.”
Even on the most horrible day of my life.
I’m in a much better place now. In a place of healing. And it feels good to feel good again.
But that September day will always be with me. There are still some days when all I know to pray is for Strength, Mercy, and Grace. But, over the last 2 years, the following has never failed to be true:
"God is good – all the time.
All the time – God is good!”
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Written on Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
The Struggle Between Life and Death
September 19, 2011
The day my Rob's life on earth hung between the balance of life and death.
It's such a very thin line...
...something I never really understood until that day.
The day of struggle.
The struggle Rob's body was making to recover from whatever made him unconscious.
The struggle my mind was making to start accepting what I just knew was coming.
The struggle to tell his children that their daddy was not coming home from the hospital this time.
The struggle to call his parents and tell them that another son was dying.
(Rob's brother, Eric - at almost 21 yrs. old - died in 1985).
The struggle to execute decisions that had already been made but I had to authorize.
They will remain only shared with those in them, but I took 7 pictures that day.
I knew I would need to see them later. And I have.
Around 12 hours after we first arrived at the hospital, I took one picture of Rob by himself. He was hooked up to a ventilator by the time I took the picture so wires and tubes are everywhere.
I took one of Anna and Rob. Anna's head is snuggled up to her daddy's side and over his hand.
She was crying.
I took three of the boys as they kissed, hugged, and told their daddy good-bye and how much they loved him.
I took one of Crystol as she, through her tears, kissed her daddy.
And the last picture I have of my Rob alive is around 8:30 p.m. on September 19, 2011. It is a photo of my Rob with both of his daughters - Anna on one side, Crystol on the other.
Each daughter is holding one of his hands.
Those photos have helped me to comprehend and confirm over and over and over that we did all we could do. Those photos have helped me over and over and over know that my Rob was tired. Those photos have helped me over and over and over know that Rob fought as hard as he could to overcome all of the issues and that the doctors, nurses, and his family and friends did all they could to help him fight. Those photos have helped me over and over and over know that he had fought all he could fight and for Rob,
his race was truly finished.
Those photos have helped me over and over and over KNOW
that for Rob,
death was the most merciful thing that could have happened.
For those of us being left behind, it did not feel merciful,
but for Rob by that point,
it was.
Over and over and over that day, I prayed for
STRENGTH, MERCY, and GRACE.
At times, all I could do was quietly whisper the words,
"strength, mercy, and grace."
And here we are, a year later.
Proof that the prayer was answered.
We made it through and we are still making it.
But there are still times when the struggle knocks me to my knees...
and all I can do is quietly whisper the words,
"strength, mercy, and grace."
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