A WRITER'S LIFE…
July 2015 for the Month of April, 2004
I could not write anything back then. My life had been blown to smithereens with the unexpected passing of my husband and all things writings, in that time in my life, ceased to exist.
When I did start back up my writing blog, I moved along as if his death hadn't happened-mentioned no where within the encouraging words I offered for the then Christmas Season and my December, 2004 blog.
But I can do so now. Eleven years after the fact, I can put on paper what that time was like. It was hard, sad, unexpected, bewildering, hurtful, painful and filled with a loss I didn't think I would be able to handle. I was mad at my husband, at God and at the world that had given me that one person I knew loved me unconditionally and I loved back just as much; that one person that I was supposed to grow old with, welcome our grandchildren into the world with; share so many happy moments that I could no longer count them. The one who knew me and loved me one hundred and I loved him the same, where we had our own special language, inside jokes, could look at each and know what the other was thinking.
The one who supported me one hundred and fifty when it came to what my heart desired, who told me I could quit my job and write full time even though I had neither a book contract or an agent, just a dream. The one who had vision to move us south to a better way of living and worked three jobs when we got here to put food on the table. Yeah, that guy.
An aneurism took his from this world. He went out to jog and a blood vessel in his brain gave way. He kissed me on my forehead right before he left and that was the last time I saw him alive. Suddenly I was a character out of one of my bestseller books - "Some Sunday." Suddenly I, like the character Sandy, was widowed, feeling bewilded, lost and with little hope.
My children helped pulled me through. They were my strength, my will to go on, when I didn't want too. On those days I didn't want to live for myself, I lived for them, because they needed me and I knew my husband would have it no other way. I knew that even though he was gone, I had to keep on living...
Time heals. It took a long time for me to truly believe that, but I did even when there were days I didn't want to. I cried oceans and rivers. Felt cheated and denied and lost. But I kept putting one foot in front of the other, understanding and accepting that my husband's time here on earth was completed and God had simply called one of his angels home.
I kept living, keeping fragments of hope alive in a time in my life that felt utterly hopeless and ultimately came to see just how blessed I was to have had such a man choose me for his wife, giving me the honor of being mother to his children.
It's been over a decade since that day in April and I still feel the loss. But I feel the love too. I've gotten what some people don't get in a life time. Gotten what so many characters in book yearn for. What me and my husband shared was special, rare, real and blessed...true love at it's best and that type of love is forever...
When I did start back up my writing blog, I moved along as if his death hadn't happened-mentioned no where within the encouraging words I offered for the then Christmas Season and my December, 2004 blog.
But I can do so now. Eleven years after the fact, I can put on paper what that time was like. It was hard, sad, unexpected, bewildering, hurtful, painful and filled with a loss I didn't think I would be able to handle. I was mad at my husband, at God and at the world that had given me that one person I knew loved me unconditionally and I loved back just as much; that one person that I was supposed to grow old with, welcome our grandchildren into the world with; share so many happy moments that I could no longer count them. The one who knew me and loved me one hundred and I loved him the same, where we had our own special language, inside jokes, could look at each and know what the other was thinking.
The one who supported me one hundred and fifty when it came to what my heart desired, who told me I could quit my job and write full time even though I had neither a book contract or an agent, just a dream. The one who had vision to move us south to a better way of living and worked three jobs when we got here to put food on the table. Yeah, that guy.
An aneurism took his from this world. He went out to jog and a blood vessel in his brain gave way. He kissed me on my forehead right before he left and that was the last time I saw him alive. Suddenly I was a character out of one of my bestseller books - "Some Sunday." Suddenly I, like the character Sandy, was widowed, feeling bewilded, lost and with little hope.
My children helped pulled me through. They were my strength, my will to go on, when I didn't want too. On those days I didn't want to live for myself, I lived for them, because they needed me and I knew my husband would have it no other way. I knew that even though he was gone, I had to keep on living...
Time heals. It took a long time for me to truly believe that, but I did even when there were days I didn't want to. I cried oceans and rivers. Felt cheated and denied and lost. But I kept putting one foot in front of the other, understanding and accepting that my husband's time here on earth was completed and God had simply called one of his angels home.
I kept living, keeping fragments of hope alive in a time in my life that felt utterly hopeless and ultimately came to see just how blessed I was to have had such a man choose me for his wife, giving me the honor of being mother to his children.
It's been over a decade since that day in April and I still feel the loss. But I feel the love too. I've gotten what some people don't get in a life time. Gotten what so many characters in book yearn for. What me and my husband shared was special, rare, real and blessed...true love at it's best and that type of love is forever...
