January 28 - Seven Years

Today is the day.
The one I prayed against -

and eventually for.

The day my Al stopped suffering.

Every night as I pushed my bed next to his,

I knew it might be the last time ~

the last time I would lay snuggled against him ~

my head on his chest listening to his heart beat ~

the last night I would wait for the next breath.

Every night, I knew it might be the last one.

That Sunday, January 27, 2013,

it was.

I wakened with him on the morning of

January 28

and at 4:59 that afternoon,

cradled in my arms,

just he and I and the angels,

my head on his chest,

his great heart went silent,

the last breath was expelled.

And he was gone.

It was the darkest day of my life!

The anniversary of which I face each year with dread.

But in the wee hours of this morning,

as I sat in my rocking chair remembering,

something occurred to me.

At that very moment,

as Al was slipping into the arms of Jesus,

at that very second,

as God opened the door to Heaven for my Al,

at that precise point in time,

He opened a door for me!

I would not see the door for a long while ~

the veil of grief was too heavy and thick ~

but it was there!

And as God walked me,

carried me,

pushed me,

pulled me,

sat with me through 

the Valley of the Shadow,

He continued the preparation of my heart

for the One He had for my next chapter of life,

preparation begun 

more than a year earlier

with prayer

for a frightened, hurting family I did not know,

a family I learned of through a mutual friend,

a family with a terrible diagnosis,

for a beloved spouse and parent,

a diagnosis I and my children would experience eight months later.

The path to the door would be rocky and hard.

It would have danger points, pitfalls.

But two years later,

I would see the open door

and begin moving steadfastly toward it.

I think perhaps I can look differently now at

January 28.

Perhaps,

just as I am now able to look at pictures

and smile,

rather than cry,

revel in the memories,

and rejoice,

rather than grieve,

perhaps I can begin to look at 

January 28

as the beginning

rather than the end.

The Beginning ~

for my Al ~

     wholeness,

          no more suffering,

               Home;

for me ~

     refinement,

          polishing,

               learning who I am,

                    learning that I had a future ~

                         a wonderful future.

God opened a door that day.

I will mourn my loss still ~

for it was the greatest loss of my life! ~

and I miss my first Love.

But I will focus on the open door for both of us,

the joy God has granted both of us,

the healing God has wrought in both of us.

And I will praise His name!