LTRP Note: As many of you know, on March 12th, we issued a special notice and request for our author and editor Kevin Reeves who had just lost his wife. Below is a letter wrote today, and we thought many of you would like to read it.
Dear friends,
I am now back in my home of Valdez, Alaska, struggling to learn how to live without my wife of thirty-eight years. By anyone’s standards, that is a long time to share dreams, disappointments, sadnesses, prosperity, poverty, and, most of all, love. In the apartment the two of us shared, she is all about me, her memory, anyway, and so many of the things she had arranged before we left for her cancer treatment–her winter boots by the entryway, the children’s books she was going to give to the local homeschool group, her bath towel hanging in the bathroom–all make it look as if she had just stepped out for a moment and would be right back. I haven’t the heart, or courage, to move them just yet, as if keeping them in the place she set them would hold off the winter reality of her not here.
It’s hard to write through tears, but my thoughts won’t come without them, and anyway, I haven’t found the shut-off valve yet, or if one even exists. The wise ones, the ones who have been living it for a long time, don’t tell you ahead of time about the grief that comes from losing a spouse because there simply are no words to prepare you for it. In my nearly four decades in Alaska, I’ve lived through many earthquakes and lots of times had to run for high ground when warned of a possible tsunami. I never did see one, but I feel now that I’ve experienced a recent tsunami nonetheless, a wild, incoming tide of emotion that sweeps over any protective seawall I thought would shelter my heart. The tide will be coming in for a long time.
I found a poem in my wallet that I had begun to write to Kris some years ago, and never finished. Now, I don’t know what to do with it. I can’t throw it away because that would force me to admit she will never read it. But keeping it would anchor me to a past of poems written to the only woman who had ever captured my whole heart. For now, it stays in the wallet, awaiting a decision that perhaps will never come.
I ask all those who contributed to this fund, and who have in other ways shown their caring for Kris and me, to please forgive the depths of sadness of this post. At only a little more than three weeks into the death of my beloved wife, I am still in what they call “The Fog” of grief, where I’m wandering about with my hands stretched out before me, hoping to touch something that will make sense of it all.
It’s not all darkness and clouds. I have taken great comfort from the Scriptures and the presence of my Jesus. “Though I sit in darkness, the LORD shall be a light unto me.” So, right now, I do the only thing I know to do—put one foot in front of the other and slog forward on this road of tears, this grief walk.
All who have contributed to us in this painful journey, whether by money, prayers, cards, kind words, with all my heart I thank you. You have been a blessing in a way that neither you nor I can fully understand right now, but one day will. Thank you. Thank you. Kevin
Kevin, my husband Ray died many years ago. At first the grief was overwhelming. But there comes a time when the intensity of it lifts. When that happens, then your focus and mental sharpness will return.
After my husband died, there came a time when I was grateful that Ray died first, because that way, he didn’t have to go through the grieving. And it would have been SO hard on Ray to have had to go through that.
Because your relationship with your wife is grounded in the Lord Jesus, your relationship will last forever. Therefore, you did NOT say “goodbye” to her. Rather, when she died, you said, “See you later.”
There are still times when I break down crying because I miss Ray so much. But I’m looking forward — not back. Forward to our future time together in Heaven. Not back to what we had here together in the past. Because our future in Heaven with Jesus will be so much better than anything we ever had together in the past.
I’m praying for you.
Thank you for sharing that Dayle.
I lost my husband of 59 years almost 6 years ago. I’m finding it’s not something you get over just something you get through with our loving God’s help.
Because we are believers in Jesus, I can look forward to seeing him again.
Even so, come Lord Jesus.
May the comfort of the Holy Spirit sweep over your mind, your heart, and spirit during this tender time of grieving.
Prayers for you, dear Brother in Christ.
Try to hold on to Jesus, as it sounds like are doing. The grief may never totally leave, but somehow you will carry on. Til you and your beloved meet again in Glory.
Sometimes our walk on earth is through a Vale of Tears.
Yet, surely, it won’t be long now before He comes for His Bride and we will all be together.
Until then, we will be holding you up in prayers for comfort, peace, strength and His presence to walk with you.