How do you mark the three month anniversary of your husband’s death? He is buried in my home town, so we couldn’t go sit near his body. Besides, he is now absent from his body and present with the Lord. So while I feel very at peace at the cemetery, he isn’t there.
I really didn’t know what to do, so we went to visit his car. His car is now parked waiting to be cleaned. There is just the smallest amount of blood, a blessing, because it is a sign that he was found nearly right after it happened and did not suffer long.
Places like the car, and the cemetery bring peace, because they remind me that the terror and trauma of that night are over.
He isn’t still in the car bleeding. That day is over.
I even let her play with something that is back behind our church. Shah saw it one day and couldn’t tell it if was good stuff or trash, but told me it looked like it was back by the dumpsters as trash and if it was trash he really wanted it for Zoya.
I should have let him ask about it since it is still there. But at least now that I’ve seen it, I know another thing he wanted for her and can someday give her as a present.
After that we went to the cemetery and a friend, who had rightly interpreted my two word post “Three Months” as a cry for comfort, came and met us. It wasn’t where his body is resting, waiting for the resurrection, but other bodies are there, at peace, separated from their souls.
It’s so hard to plan how to mark these anniversaries because I have no idea how I will feel at any given moment. I’m reading a devotional by another widow who talked about how hard it is for friends to help, because we never know what we are going to need.
Some days I need to be alone. Sometimes I need to be with others. Sometimes I want to talk. Sometimes I need silence. Sometimes busy. Sometimes still.
But God knows those needs and meets them, often through others, his hands and feet.
After the cemetery we went to have tea and ZZ decided to celebrate by bringing planking back.
And for a moment, I was in the moment and life was okay.