This week will mark the six-month anniversary of Lindy’s passing. How are we? Well, we’re smiling more when we remember her and crying a lot less. Each day that goes by, we get a little better. Life will never, ever be the same for us, but we’re embracing the future with more hope than grief now. We lived, we stopped living, now we’re moving forward again. A large semi-colon called cancer placed a huge period and now a comma in our lives. And, with hope comes new possibilities and a renewed sense of who we are as a family of five minus the one.
Now, I am trying to re-find myself. Who am I? I lost who I was many years ago. The illness, care-giving and caring for the kids and about everything else wore me down to the point where I couldn’t find joy in anything. I realize this now as I am healing and finding that joy and happiness back. Looking back now, I’m so thankful that I’m at a place where I can see that. There appears to be a light at the end of the long, dark tunnel.
Lindy told me she wanted me to move on with my life. I thank God that she and I were able to have those gut-wrenching conversations while she was still here. I would hold her and sob telling her that I couldn’t do it alone. She would assure me that the kids and I would be okay. I can still hear her on her deathbed reassuring me as she slipped away. You know, she was right – I am (we are) doing it (thanks to a large supporting cast). The semi-colon says stop, breathe and then start again. To me, the semi-colon is a poetic symbol for the story of our lives.
I can finally show this publicly. This image was taken the day we put Lindy to rest, 9/19/2012. I show this as a testament to the beauty of the day and the peacefulness of the morning.
Sometimes an image speaks more than words ever could.
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
The last few months have really zipped by. We’ve been settling into our new routine and learning what works and what doesn’t. The kids continue to amaze me with their resiliance and positive attitudes. They’re crying alot less and I truly believe we’re all healing; since God is supplying the grace we need to move forward. Enter Life 2.0. In so many ways, we’re starting completely over again.
Last night, Brooklyn sensed I was sad so while I was giving the twins their bath, she put together a surprise for me. After drying the kids off and doing the bedtime routines she led me into the dining room (with eyes closed and everything). There on the table stood a plate with Swiss Cake Rolls, hot chocolate with marshmallows, candy canes, and a couple Hershey’s kisses. Next to neatly folded napkin and spoon was a little letter scratched out on Post-It-Notes telling me how much she loves me and what a good Dad I am. More importantly, there was her special little picture of Lindy she keeps on her nightstand. She knew I needed that time to stop. We cried together. It was a poignant moment I’ll never forget.
Thank you to all who donated money in Lindy’s honor to the kid’s education fund. I was able to invest $18,000 into their 529 college savings account. This will bless the kids down the road in such a meaningful way. Lindy would’ve liked that a whole bunch.