Thursday, October 20, 2011

God is holding my hand every step of the way.

It's been three months today. As I look at the clock, almost exactly. In fact, about 10-15 minutes ago Matt's life changed forever. It was his last hour. I think he must have been in between (Heaven and earth, that is) since he was unconscious. I wonder what he saw. I wonder if he knows what happened to him. I wonder if he was afraid. Scratch that last part. I know he wasn't afraid.

I feel I have been coping well. But I've had very little, if anything, to do with that. God is the one holding me up. And I am so thankful. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have my faith. I mean... I don't know what I would do if I hadn't found my faith. After all, this showed me God. I can't say I was a fantastic religious person before all this.

I never mentioned something about that day. It's a small thing. Kind of an odd thing. I noticed a small, light, red/brown dot (about the size of a pencil eraser, maybe slightly bigger than that) on my ribcage below my right boob (don't know how else to describe it, sorry). It's like a birth mark, really. I never had that before July 20. I noticed it that night. And it hasn't gone away. I tried to Google "marks appearing after death of a loved one" or something similar to see if that has happened to anyone else, lol. I just find it... weird/special/interesting. It's my special mark. Who needs a tattoo when you have a mystery mark?

Yesterday morning, Noah woke up and said, "Daddy" again. It was after hearing sounds in the kitchen from MIL and SIL. He must have thought that Matt might be in the kitchen. He misses him. I think these things are going to start getting more frequent and more intense as Noah gets older.

I wanted to attend a widow/widower support group today, but after researching what the "Friendship Center of Emmet County" was, I thought... this is not a right fit for me. It's a senior center. 'Nuf said. I know of a place in Grand Rapids that will probably be good for both me and the kids so I can wait until we move. I feel like I'm doing fine without support groups and a counselor. Talking to my counselor in Greenville very soon after the accident was GREAT though. I really needed that so I'm glad I didn't wait.

I keep looking at the clock and imagining Matt exactly three months ago. Why did I choose now to write? This is his final hour. Now he is in the emergency room. In a way, though, rehashing all the details of that day helps me. It just helps me to accept this as my reality. One more month gone... Matt is not coming back. But he is always with me.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

-E. E. Cummings

2 comments:

  1. Stephanie, i am terribly sorry for what you're going through and your loss.
    Your strength is an inspiration.
    I can't even put into words how much inspiration actually.
    Not taking everyday for granted, and not nit-picking about small meaningless things... your faith, strength and love for life has made me look at my own life in a new light.

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  2. Stephanie, may God continue to bless you with His peace and comfort. And when you come to Grand Rapids, there is a woman who lived a couple houses down from Mark & Tracy who lost her husband to an accident 2 weeks before Christmas leaving behind a 4-year-old daughter and his wife who was 7 months pregnant. This happened 7 or 8 years ago. If you're interested (and/or ready), she's right here in Bella Vista and I can get you the information.

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