Category Archives: Widowhood

“Firsts” and Foremost

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Before I became a widow, I often thought about women-friends who’d already started down that road. I’d heard about the struggle of coming to each holiday for the first time after a husband’s death and knew a widow surely was sad at Thanksgiving, Christmas and her spouse’s birthday. Other lesser holidays, I figured, weren’t too bad.

Now that I’m ticking off those “firsts” for myself, I realize how wrong I was. Every long marriage has specific ways of walking through each holiday, both the lesser and the greater ones. Granted, some are more important than others, but each one has special meaning for a husband and wife.

I’ve just passed Mother’s Day. As Linnea remembered her father through tears she said, “Papa would have brought you flowers, two dozen roses or something extravagant like that.” She also reminded me that every Mother’s Day celebration is really initiated by the husband, well before the children are old enough to understand. It’s for couples before it’s for children. Linnea helped to lift the gloom by sending a beautiful orchid plant, and Klaus also stepped into his father’s shoes by bringing a bright bouquet of summer flowers.

Today I woke up thinking, “Another first without Nate is behind me.” Although I held it together on Sunday, today has been more complicated. While packing for my trip to England tomorrow, the tears flowed. I couldn’t stop them. Although I pushed through laundry, errands, phone calls and emails, my heart ached and my two pocket tissues had to be replaced again and again.

Honestly, I think it was all about this first Mother’s Day without Nate, even after the fact. The hole he left in our family will never be filled. He loved all things holiday, buying gifts, bringing me flowers, writing thoughtful messages on cards and celebrating at dinner tables.

I’m six months into widowhood, about half way through my “firsts”: Thanksgiving, our anniversary, the Christmas Eve Swedish smorgasbord, Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve, New Year’s Day, Nelson’s birthday, Adam’s birthday, Katy’s birthday, a new grandson’s arrival, Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, the spring trip, the birth of twin grandbabies, Louisa’s birthday and Easter… 17 biggies are behind me.

Klaus’ birthday will be next, followed by the most poignant “first” of the entire year, Memorial Day. Annually our relation gathers at the family cemetery plot to reminisce about those who’ve gone before us and to be grateful for their lives. Last year Nate was with us, contributing historical information and enjoying the get-together. None of us ever dreamed by Memorial Day of this year, he’d be buried in that same place.

Once we get through that, Father’s Day will be another hard one, then Birgitta’s birthday, Linnea’s birthday, the 4th of July, Nate’s birthday, my birthday, Labor Day weekend, the September family vacation, Hans’ birthday and Lars’ birthday. There are 29 “firsts” to get through in this family year. Although 29 doesn’t eat up much of 365, it does deliver a slew of painful reminders that Nate is gone.

From this vantage point, I’m wondering what the “seconds” will be like, surely less heartbreaking than the “firsts”. My guess is there will be tears then, too, but they’ll be cried in private.

Thankfully, God comes with us into those secret places and looks deep into our hearts. He comforts us based on what he finds there and does his miraculous healing in those hidden depths.

“God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7b)

From the Pulpit

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It’s my privilege to pray every Saturday for five preachers I know and admire, as they’re putting the finishing touches on their weekend sermons. I lift up both the pastor-givers and the congregation-receivers of the expounded Word of God.

Although I love and learn from many more than five godly pastors, these are the ones covered in my Saturday prayers:

  • Phil Bubar
  • Erwin Lutzer
  • James MacDonald
  • Colin Smith
  • Greg Waybright

Each of these men have, at one time or another, been Nate’s and my pastor, each one a fellow traveler and a brother-in-Christ. All of them are still shepherding congregations, and our cottage bookshelves are well stocked with books and sermon CDs by these five men, because I hate to miss even one preached message.

When Nate was sick, we conducted our own church services at home, 13 of us gathered in the living room around his lazy-boy chair and a CD-playing computer. We would listen and later talk about the teaching from one of these five men. To a great extent it’s been their faithful preaching over the past 25 years that has enlightened and challenged our family. Through their insights, we’ve been led forward, nourished through painful crises and coaxed to grow.

This morning my girls and I drove 90 minutes to attend Moody Church’s morning service for a very special reason: Pastor Erwin Lutzer was planning to preach about death and dying. All of us have had death on the brain for quite some time, Nate’s death in particular, and I was eager to hear Pastor’s teaching.

To our great delight, in his sermon he used Nate as an example of a man who died well, someone who acquiesced without protest to the surprise end-date given him by a team of oncologists last September. Nate could have lashed out in anger, turned away from God, or gotten stuck in denial by expecting healing before he died. Instead, he squared off with his own mortality and by doing so, Pastor said, was a witness of Christ.

What encouragement it brought to our still-aching hearts to hear Nate’s own words read from the pulpit today: “It’s really not about how many years a person gets. Rather its how we use the ones we have. It’s not about the number of candles on the cake but rather how good the cake tastes. If I could sign on a dotted line to get out of this, my pen would already be out of my pocket. But in the end, it all boils down to two things, just as the old hymn says: trust and obey.” (See Oct. 7, 2009 post, “A Message from Nate” or Sept. 27 post, “CANCER!”)

I remember well the evening those sentences came out of Nate’s mouth. He wanted to compose a blog post for GettingThroughThis.com, and I was thrilled he was able to put his thoughts into words so well, only two weeks after receiving his terminal diagnosis. We had gone upstairs immediately after dinner that night, as was our pattern, leaving the hustle and bustle of family downstairs. His painful back always felt better lying prone, on ice packs.

The two of us relished this private hour each evening before he got too sleepy to continue talking. We would read encouraging emails laced with powerful Scriptures, and we’d speak to each other about his impending death, the most excruciating conversations any husband and wife can have.

When he said he was ready to dictate a post, he slowly, painfully, stood up next to the bed, wanting to do it right. As he spoke the words while I typed, his matter-of-fact demeanor astounded me.

Today Nate’s heartfelt message was quoted through a microphone to thousands of people, and my heart swelled with joy to hear this witness of Christ once more. God wastes nothing, including Nate’s agonizing cancer and his earthly finish. The Lord’s purposes in our lives, even through anguish, are always meant for our good.

”We know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

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And one last quote from Nate’s mouth: “I’ve been able to attend the best churches in the country and have been taught by the greatest preachers.”

Amen to that!

Gone… with the Wind?

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I’m not alone when I say “Gone with the Wind” is my choice for the best movie of all time. I saw it first while in high school in the early sixties and have seen all 222 minutes of it again and again since then, ten times in all. Last night I saw it once more, but this time everything was different.

Mary and I noticed a local theater here in Michigan showing some of the old classics. When we realized “GWTW” was playing this week, we made immediate plans to go. And when the young man selling tickets said, “That’ll be three dollars…” we looked at each other in surprise.

“How come so cheap?” Mary asked.

“Well, look at how old the movie is,” he said, eyeing us as if we might not know.

We skipped supper so we could have popcorn, Coke and Dots for dinner at the theater, and as the orchestra music began, both of us felt that old thrill of going back to the 1860s to spend time with our favorite characters.

Because “GWTW” is a chronicle of life during the Civil War, death and dying is present throughout the movie. But three poignant death scenes jumped off the screen like never before. The first was when the heroine, Scarlett, arrived home to find that her mother had died just the day before. Watching Scarlett react to this dreadful news made me use up both of my pocket tissues.

Later, after the 15 minute intermission, Scarlett’s five year old daughter died after being thrown from a pony. Watching her father battle intense grief over losing the love of his life made me cry, too. The third death, that of Scarlett’s angelic friend Melanie, was almost too much. Good thing I’d gone to the washroom during intermission for more tissue.

Although none of these deaths had ever made me cry before, this time death has touched me closely, and my perspective has been skewed accordingly. Watching the characters respond to the deaths of loved ones drew me into their sorrow and exacerbated my own. I thought of Jesus weeping outside the tomb of his good friend Lazarus. The biblical verb used describes him not just tearful but in anguished sobs.

Today I’ve thought about the movie often, particularly those three death scenes, and still feel a heavy load of grief. It’s silly, of course, to relate so emotionally to the characters of “Gone with the Wind.” They were just acting, and their tears weren’t based in reality.

But a great deal of my own grieving isn’t based in reality, either. It’s rooted in longings, wishes and if only’s. Love doesn’t evaporate when the object of that love disappears. If anything, it grows. What is a person to do with this increasing love? Without the presence of the one who is being loved, the only thing left to do is cry.

Jesus cried, too. He wept over death. I understand.

”When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. Jesus wept. Then the Jews said, ‘See how he loved him’!” (John 11:33, 35-36)