My Thankful List: 5 Years After My Husband’s Death

It’s Thanksgiving - a day in the US set aside to give thanks and spend time with family and friends.

It’s also a day that holds significant memories that bookmark a season of my life: Greg received his new heart on Thanksgiving Day 2010. 10 years later, he was admitted to the hospital the night before Thanksgiving. The next day, which turned out to be our last holiday together, was a blur of fear, uncertainty, and medical procedures.

So Thanksgiving is a day of complexity for me. But this year, I want to focus on the things I’m grateful for even as I still carry grief and difficult memories with me.

Here’s my widow list of gratitude:

1. Greg planned for when he wouldn’t be here

   Mine and my son’s lives would look vastly different and be far more difficult if Greg hadn’t gone to such great lengths to plan for the worst case scenario. He made sure everything we owned was in both our names, our will was updated, his Five Wishes was accurate and that I knew the passwords and log in info to everything I might need. Having met so many widows whose husbands hadn't planned ahead so thoroughly, I know this is a tremendous gift he gave me,

   
   

2. My widowed Sisters

   These friends I made through Songs in the Night and other connections have been a life line for me. I have many people who love me and care for me, but these are the ones who get it. I can cry with them over something that triggered grief in a new way. We trade solo-parenting stories and I can ask them for advice in the unique challenge of raising a child without his dad. We laugh, and cry and get angry together at the things we all face as widows. And most most importantly, they point me to Jesus, remind me I’m loved, and pray for me in the ups and downs of life.

3. People who remember

   I have a friend who texted me on the 19th (the date Greg died) of every month for nearly 5 years to let me know she was praying for me. The faithfulness of this friend and her commitment to support me in this way has meant the world to me. And she’s not alone. Others have reached out around holidays. Some have texted me when we're in a meeting, service, etc. and they hear something they know will hit me hard - just to let me know my pain is seen. Others have checked in on me when widows or sudden death from cardiac arrest are in the national news to see how it's effecting me. Others have brought meals when it's an especially hard time of year. I could go on and on. These people - with their texts, notes, flowers, quiet words, meaningful looks and more- have carried me. I am beyond blessed to be loved like that.

4. People who talk about Greg

   I love when people talk to me about Greg. I spend so much time not talking about him. He's on my mind so often and so many things remind me of him - but rarely do I feel free to say anything to those around me. Sometimes it's because people didn't know him, or because I don't want to make them feel awkward. Sometimes it just doesn't feel like the right time to bring up my loss or share a memory. So I bite my tongue and hold back. But boy do I love it when people talk about Greg. I love hearing his name. I love hearing stories about him; whether it's hearing something for the first time or the 1000th. I love it when someone shares something that I'd forgotten - it's like getting a little piece of Greg back. I love when people who know Greg’s sense of humor share something he’d find funny. I love it when people share something in our son that reminds them of Greg. When people talk about Greg, I feel more free to be fully me.

5. Our Son

   Oh how Greg cherished our son. While the heart break of watching our boy grieve his dad is immense, I'm so grateful that I get the delight of raising him and seeing him become the person God made him to be. And it becomes so evident as he gets older, that God uniquely made him to be Greg’s son. It is amazing to see ways in which he becomes more like his dad, even as the time he spent with him gets further and further away. Being here to watch our son's life unfold is a gift I don't take for granted and one I pray that I will steward well.

6. The Sunrise

   Since the first days after Greg died, I have looked at the sun rising in the sky and clung to it as a reminder of God's faithfulness. Each morning the sun rose outside my window on those dark December mornings, I'd remind myself that God was still in control and still trustworthy. The sun rose yesterday and the sun rose today. As long as the sun kept rising, I could face another day.

   
   

   I'm not surviving one sunrise at a time anymore - those early days of grief are behind me (thank God!) - but God's faithfulness is still my anchor. When the loneliness of widowhood wears me down, I look at the sunrise and remember I'm not alone. When the fears and "what ifs" of the future cloud my mind, I look at the sunrise and remember that "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever" (Hebrews 13:8). When I feel like I'm failing at all I'm called to do I remember I look at the sunrise and remember, "Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:23)