A Blessing Disguised as a Knife

You know that feeling you feel when you see you late husband’s name tag sitting ready to be picked up at an event?  No?  Good, no one should ever.

So Saturday evening was shape up to be hard enough.  I had to go to a work event at the Delta Flight Museum.  My husband loved airplanes and knew everything about them.  He would have loved this event.

Also, my mom was in town.  Last time she was in town and I had to get dressed up in a fancy dress, it was Zoya’s birthday and he and I were going to a friend’s wedding.

This time, I was alone and no pictures were being taken to celebrate.

Walking in, I took photos as I knew he would to send to his pilot father.

And I gave my name and proceeded to the table to pick up my name tag, which was in my old work name Wright, and there just a few tags above it, I saw his name.  Honestly, I was straight confused.  Was there another Shah?  Was he not really dead and coming to surprise me?  I actually had no comprehension.  And then reality returned.

Maybe I’ve lived a blessed life since I can say it is the first time I’ve ever had to run to the bathroom to cry.  When I agreed to attend this event and accept an award on behalf of my agency, Shah had already been killed.  I never even received a plus one invitation, so I wasn’t even sure he would have been invited had he been alive.  And somehow, someone took the time to seek out his name, but missed the part where he was killed in a carjacking.  Basically, I have no idea how this happened.

But then, suddenly, I started to feel peace and that peace did not come from me.  I generally have a knack at finding the bright side, but this time, I had nothing to do with it.  I actually had a moment where I started talking to myself completely dumbfounded as I realized that I was starting to feel peace and even joy.

I’ve been quiet the last few weeks and that has mostly been because I have had nothing positive to report.  I’ve been deep in the loss and pain.  It no longer felt like waves, it felt like the bottom of the ocean.  But somehow, as I walked around holding his name tag, I started feeling peace.  I felt his love and like he was with me for the first time in several months.

Those very first months were full of moments like this.  These last few have been dark.  But Saturday night, I remembered who I am.  I remembered who he is.  And I remembered that a loving God holds us in his hand.

So, I attached his name tag to my own and boldly answered anyone who asked me about it.  Because seriously, how the heck did that happen?!