I have done some things the last couple days
that are completely out of character for me.
My dreams the last several nights have been...
...disturbing.
I am not sleeping well tonight.I should be, I'm tired.
I didn't sleep at all that other night 11 years ago.
It was just about this time,
a bit earlier by the time this is posted,
just after midnight that we heard those words:
"Mr. Garrett, you do have cancer."
We were in the ER and the doctor was very matter-of-fact.
He came in, said those words
and that we would be staying for a while
and walked out.
It took about two minutes.
We had gone to the hospital at around 4pm.
It took them eight hours to give us the diagnosis.
Sixteen days later we went home
with a one to three months prognosis.
He lived eight months and three days.
Yesterday and this day are almost sacred to me.
I almost feel the need to whisper the date,
May 25/26, D-day.
And every year I feel the weight of those words,
the diagnosis of cancer.
And every year I think of the privilege of serving him,
walking him home over those next short months.
Every year I also feel the grace.
I feel the grace from my Lanny Love
when I talk about my Al more,
say his name more often,
say the wrong name occasionally as I did at least once this week.
He loves me through the "memory" days.
I feel the grace of God
who looks beyond my actions,
my thoughts,
my feelings,
and loves and accepts me in my imperfections and failings.
I was privileged to walk my Al home.
I am privileged to make a home with my Lanny Love.
I am blessed beyond measure to love and serve
a merciful, graceful, forgiving God!
Last evening, on the 25th, we returned from a road trip
with one of our daughters and her family
to a bucket-list destination for my Lanny Love.
It was a fabulous time.
Still, I fought tears several times
and found myself to be more sensitive than normal -
and that's saying something.
Six years ago on this day,
my Lanny Love and I were on my first back-packing trip,
where I fell in love with the sport.
And where I thought of my Al
and wept for him in a mountain pool.
Most years, I am here and visit the cemetery
at some point in my day -
and I laugh with my husband and children and grandchildren and friends.
Every year is different
but every year is a life adventure.
Life goes on.
And in grief, we must move forward into life
or, ourselves die, at least emotionally and mentally, in the grief.
Truly, grief has no end.
It changes, but it is with you,
ebbing and flowing all the years of your life.
That is because love has no end either
and as long as one loves what is gone,
one grieves it.
But that is not the end of the story.
I think of a quote from one of my favorite movies, "Steel Magnolias":
"Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion."
~~ Dolly Parton as Truvy after Shelby's funeral ~~
I think of my Jesus - life through death.
My Al is more alive today than he ever was here.
I think of my life,
living not simply existing.
Loving in the here and now,
not only in the past.
Experiencing joy and laughter,
sorrow and tears.
Life through grief.
I am very blessed!
