The Last Day of Your Life

Today is the last day of my husband’s life. Well not today as in 2023, but today as in May 31, 2016. Seven years ago we were still living that life of the blessed, the life of a two parent family with with a happy, not perfect marriage, and healthy, not perfect child. Then a random stranger shot him and he died.

It’s hard to explain how we experience the days leading up to June 1st each year, the days he was alive and we had no way of knowing it was almost over. Almost every moment I am operating as two people. The person who is feeding my child and sending work emails, and the person who is struggling to breathe as she knows that is coming, was coming.

Trauma keeps the two brains from communicating most of the time. The grief half is very aware that I will not be able to function on May 31st and June 1st, but the work brain absolutely cannot access that knowledge when scheduling meetings and promising to be places. The non-grief brain navigated a lasagna dinner and a Chinese buffet without getting glutened (accidentally eating gluten) last week, but in grief mode last night the grief brain poured itself a big bowl of Fruit Rings gluten cereal and didn’t realize what it had done until it could barely sit due to its swollen belly.

The non-grief brain scheduled an interview with the person who now has the job I had when my husband was killed today and took forever to realize that the grief brain was refusing to prepare for the interview and sending me to bed every time I tried.

I do believe God was working through that interview scheduling though, because it’s actually a blessing to be reminded of the little silver lining blessings on days like today. That office is in very capable hands and I no longer have to ask how high when a judge says jump. Two things can be true at the same time. My husband’s death is a terrible evil and I am broken in two. Life as a full solo parent is harder than I could ever have imagined. AND I have the blessing of KNOWING God was very present on the days and weeks following his death that I can always go back to when doubts arise. AND I no longer have to appear in court as a prosecutor.

None of those things cancel each other out and I do not find certainty of my faith and no longer prosecuting felonies of equal value, but still, all are true.

Many grievers find the days leading up to anniversaries harder than the actual day. I won’t be able to say how tomorrow will be until tomorrow, but I expect that will be true this year as well.

I never want to avoid these days. The painful days are painful, because I most remember the good that was and the good that will be on these days. For me part of “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things” actually means remembering what was lost.

Also, when we fail to recognize how hard grief and loss and solo parenting are, we minimize the goodness of God in caring for us in these times.

We have all different stories, but in this broken world, no one is immune from loss. It’s okay to say, this is unbearably hard and wrong and unfair and evil, but God will sustain what is impossible for me to carry. He will give me breath when the pain takes my breath away. In our weakness, we most see His strength.