Today is the day. The year anniversary. I have thought and
thought and thought about this day for weeks. What should I do on THE day? For
the girls. For me? Should I do anything? The littles would have no idea what
day it is if I didn’t tell them. Should I call attention to it? To say that I
felt pressure about it is an understatement, so I think in a lot of ways I had
convinced myself it would be the same as any other day. And I found myself
being really short with people who asked if we were doing anything special
(sorry, friends). I feel like I’m
usually pretty good about being able to reflect on what exactly is going on in
my heart, but I will tell you the anticipation of today really threw me for a
loop.
I realized pretty quickly this morning when I dropped the
girls off and all it took was one simple, sweet gesture from one of the
teachers to reduce me to tears (to my surprise) that today would not be like
every other day. In that moment I realized that for the past year I haven’t
really had to brace myself for the “firsts” because almost every holiday had
already been spent apart from Bill. Sure, we had access to him through Facetime
or texting, but today was truly a “first milestone” for us.
As I reflect back on this day last year, I have so many
mixed feelings. In some ways it was the worst day of my life, but in other ways
maybe it wasn’t. It’s almost indescribable, really. It is the day that I lost
my best friend. The person I had planned to grow old with. Our kids lost their
father. Bill’s parents lost their remaining child. For us, the people who love
Bill, the day was devastating.
But after a year’s worth of tears, prayer, anger, hopelessness,
and soul searching, I’ve really been trying to focus on what this day actually
meant for Bill. For Bill, February 23rd
was not devastating. February 23rd
was the day that he was finally set free from the horrific fight he had been
enduring for almost 2 years. Those of you who followed his journey know how
difficult things had been. He had lost so much physically, and he had suffered
in more ways than anyone will truly understand. But on this day, he finally was
at peace. He was finally able to walk, yes WALK into Heaven.
I don’t want anyone to think that I have come to this
perspective lightly. Or that somehow I’m using the “faith card” as a crutch. Or
that somehow this is a coping mechanism of sorts. This year has been one of the hardest I’ve ever
experienced. I have questioned everything I’ve ever believed. I have doubted
everything I have ever known. I have wrestled with thoughts and feelings I
never thought I would have. But I feel
like I am finally coming to a place where yes, I can grieve today, but I can
also be thankful that Bill is not suffering. That he is fully healed. And that
yes, I truly believe he is in Heaven with God.
We miss him every second of every day. That will never ever
change. I’ve had several people remark in bewilderment on how often we talk
about him. We will always talk about him. And if you see us… please feel free
to talk about him. Please say his name. He
is still part of our family. We will always love him, and I will do everything
in my power to keep him “alive” for the girls. They need to know what an
amazing dad he was. They need to know that he fought with everything he had to
be here for them.
And for me… you don’t have the kind of relationship that
Bill and I had and then walk through what we walked through without forever
being changed. As one of my dear friends put it, Bill is part of my DNA. He
will always be a part of who I am. Right after he passed away I think I wrote a
Caring Bridge post where I said being married to Bill and being by his side
during his illness will forever be one of the greatest honors of my life. When
we took our vows we never imagined this road, but I am so thankful that I was
the one that got to be by his side. To be
able to love someone like that and to be loved in return is one of the greatest
privileges of all time.
I want to thank all of the many friends and family who
acknowledged today in some way. It really does mean so much to know that people
still think and pray for us. He would be
so humbled to know how you all have rallied around us over the past year.
