First Day of Winter, Next Comes Spring

It is hard for me to believe that I have survived from the first day of spring (which was my first day without Brian) all the way to through the seasons to the first day of winter. 9 months...wow.

I was trying to think if this makes me sadder, to know that this much time has passed. Really, for the most part it doesn't mean a lot because still some days it feels like it just happened, and other times it feels like a lifetime ago. I stood in the shower today and thought, this sucks. My mind wandered all over the place. I thought back to the 9 mos. before Brian died, from June 21st to his death. That would have been around Father's Day and he was in the hospital having a craniotomy, and then came home in the worst shape he had faced so far. He was in rehab, and more and more things were taken from him. Those last 9 months were hell for him, for all of us watching him and loving him. I am thankful today that he did not have to face even another day of the suffering. I love him that much, to rather be without him that to see him in such agony.

So I feel guilty really, when I get all wrapped up in missing him. I remind myself that he could not keep facing what melanoma was dealing him. But it is the beforehand that bothers me, the "why did this happen in the first place" thought. I guess most of my mind is at ease in knowing his death was the only way to free his physical body from melanoma and to allow his soul to find peace. I have used the term "loving him to Heaven" several times (thanks to Megan, I stole it from when they were loving Kyrie to Heaven). I know my job as his wife was to help him on his journey to Heaven, and I am proud of myself for that.'

I know I have said it a million times, and you reading are probably getting tired of hearing it. I just struggle so much with flashbacks of the day we found out it was melanoma, and me thinking...oh, God, he's going to die...and everyone telling me to calm down and this would all be ok and we could take care of him and yada yada. I was right, those flashes of me raising Tye without a daddy, of living years as a widow and missing Brian, they were true. So I have somehow, someway, become I guess gun shy in my prayers. I feel terrible about it, and I work every minute of the day to change this. I try to tell God my feelings and help Him understand that I still love Him, that I still believe, but that I am hurt. I don't necessarily think that prayer is pointless; on the contrary, it is very comforting and brings much hope to my life. I just have come to realize that I myself basically stink at praying for any one thing specifically. Instead I just have been praying more in general...who ever needs my prayers, for me to accept what God has planned, in Thanksgiving...

How can I possibly believe that my prayers can change the course of my life directly, when Brian was not saved. To believe that could happen makes me feel even more like a failure in my prayers for Brian, it makes me feel even more undeserving of a life with Brian. Instead, I am trying to accept that this is what God had planned for me, but in doing so, I'm struggling with understanding how my prayers really could have done any good where Brian's health was concerned. I am not at all saying my prayers were pointless, just that they didn't necessarily serve the purpose that I intended them for. This is the challenge I face now with my prayers, and I can only hope and pray that my faithfulness in the midst of this awful sorrow will be looked upon favorably.

It is hard to believe that when this season ends, it will have been a full year since Brian's death. Life for me has both moved forward quickly and stood still. Moments flash before me that seem so close, and others seem so far away.