I Don't Feel Like A Widow Everyday....Four Years Later.

  I don't feel like a widow everyday. But everyday I feel out of place. I keep showing up for this life that looks absolutely nothing like I thought it would. Nothing.  Nowhere in my wildest nightmares or deepest fears, did I ever see myself living this life without my ride-or-die. It didn't fit the narrative.  Two people put together by God, finished college, got married, bought a house,  started a family in love, and encouraged others in Christ to then become forever fractured.   This sucks. Even four years later, I'm still utterly confused as to how this was next.  

Today was heavy. December is looming over our heads. Something in my heart tells me that if December tarries, then it won't be really four years. Because how can it be four years ago that I got the worst, most unexpected news of my life? We were sitting in that waiting room, praying. Visiting every day and night, just waiting for God to do his "big one" for the one who loved Him most.  We all called Patrick, "God's favorite." Knowing him for over 20 years, I can firsthand tell you that his only desire was to make God proud. I had never seen something so pure, up close, in my life. So for him to be gone feels mean, and unsettling. And mainly unnecessary.

As I drove through parts of our old town today, I had a flashback of the visceral pain during those first weeks and months after we lost Patrick.  I remembered how I felt like my actual heart was bleeding. I was gasping for air and just trying to get through each day so that I could get back to my real life. 'Cause this wasn't it.  So much guttural  screaming and weeping mixed with sheer disbelief filled that space in time. Although I don't feel that type of pain anymore, I can't say that this year four pain is less. It's different.  My nerve endings are coming back.  The shock is finally wearing off, and I feel lost in this life that feels like it's betraying me. 

In the first year I screamed often at God, "What am I supposed to do with this? Literally, WHAT? All of the ministry I've lived, all of the theology I've learned and taught, there was no scripture for how "this" was good, or God's plan.  How is it not God's plan to raise seven little disciples with two parents who loved and lived for Christ? That ain't in no chapter, of any book.  And as we approach the fourth anniversary of Patrick's death I'm still stunned.  A few months after losing Pat my oldest son cried out during prayer, "Lord I know you don't make mistakes but this just might be your first one." 

As we are nearing the days inching closer to the dreaded December 10th, I've been overwhelmed and honestly in a panic.  I don't want it to be four years. I don't want to be heartbroken until I die. I don't want to be barely making it at the end of every single week. Exhausted, exasperated , fragile and fully consumed by a life that I didn't want, yet still having to fight the good fight. My God. 

Earlier this week, I did something that took three years to do...I went back to our beach. The first time I tried, for his birthday in 2022 it didn't go well. This time my body was aching for a getaway, and I had the notion to do something brave. So thanks to a wonderful family friend, we booked a quick getaway. I watched the sunset and I couldn't help but think "I don't feel like a Widow today." But I looked to my right, at the resort where we spent so much wonderful family time over the years and swore I could hear Patrick's laughter. He should be here. He should be on the sand with his babies.  He should be watching the sunset with his bride.  And although every day I don't feel like a widow, every hour my heart misses him and longs for what should have been.

-Keisha 

Our Finale Turned Four: The End of an Era

Benjamin started it off. Even at five years old, his heart is tender for his siblings and their grief.  He woke up yesterday morning, and he began to cry. "I don't want the baby to grow up, Mommy." It was so sweet, but also very sad.  That's how we all feel. This is the last Wheeler Baby. The Finale. Up until today, I had never had a four year old without another toddler in tow.  This is an end of an era, and I had no idea it was coming.  Many people were taken aback when they learned how many children we were parenting, but they soon fell in love with them all and understood the gift. 

These kids are so easy to love.  It's  painful to know that there is an ache that I cannot soothe for them. They miss and need their Dad.  Watching them grow, mature and develop without Patrick here feels...I can't quite explain it. What was meant to be the gift of a full quiver, now feels like a giant, heavy cross to bear. How can I keep them healed, whole, and happy by myself? This feels more like a punishment than  a privilege. 

I would cry a billion tears for Patrick, and that seems like it would be easier than trying to solo parent in his shadow.  I love these children. He loved these children. They are indeed the very best of Patrick and I.  But today a chapter ended, and I have no idea what the next one holds. Our last baby. The last of me and Patrick has turned four.  The finale is four. 

Trash Bags

 The whirlwind surrounding  the week that we lost Patrick continues to pop up in my head in fragments.  Like the worst highlight reel; without warning. But when I think back on it, I was like a zombie-robot. Just going. Operating on adrenaline and disbelief. I remember my family scurrying around trying to stock me up with things, but the look of shock and sadness in their eyes I can never forget.   At one point, as I was preparing the kids for an activity, I looked over and my best friend was doubled over.  She had been trying so  hard to be strong for me, but I think it hit her. I didn't even shed a tear, I just asked "you alright?" and kept moving.  I was numb and in manager mode.  

After everyone had left to go home and return to their normal lives, I was grateful to be stocked with all of the things.  About six months later, I pulled out the last of the trash bags and it hit me. I was out of trash bags. I had no more cushion. I had to go back to getting things on my own. Patrick was really not here.  And although one would think that my overflowing tears would be in sadness in response to that devastating realization, the tears were those of gratitude.

Someone loved me enough, to make sure I didn't run out of trash bags. TRASH bags. It wasn't anything fancy or super expensive, it was just the thought that someone looked ahead and knew I may not be in a headspace to remember to buy them.  Someone wanted to make this awfully hard life a little  easier for me. I felt loved and seen during the worst time in my life.  I will never forget that.

Fall Family Update

 The fall season has been hard and mean.  So, I’m thankful for your continued prayers and support.  It all started with our move from Brandon to Valrico in the beginning of August.  Although it’s only about a 12-minute drive between the houses, we were leaving the last place where our family was whole. I must be fully honest, moving as a solo mom of seven kids and making all those decisions myself, even picking up the U-Haul alone -almost broke me.  However, the move was necessary, and downsizing has been very helpful. Not waking up in the “house that I didn’t bring Patrick home to”, provided a little more breathing room in the suffocating grief. We are still close enough to all our extracurriculars, church, friends, family, therapists, etc.

In addition to adjusting to the new place, August was full of trigger days.  Our 18^th wedding anniversary, Elijah’s birthday being two of the hardest.  We took a while to adjust to our new schedule was a wild ride initially.  I feel like I spent much of my time in the car because we still have co-op homeschool classes, therapy, gymnastics/karate, church and outreach.  Joy and Benjamin started school for the first time at an awesome little Lutheran school and even though there are some beautiful additions, the demands of their schedule threw off our usual easygoing pace of life. We also had an opportunity to do something new, and we visited a local “smash room” where the oldest kids were outfitted in safety gear and allowed to smash and break things in a designated room.  The smaller kids and I got to crank up music and splatter and throw paint in the adjoining glow in the dark room. I don’t think that people understand how much pinned up anger and anguish we all have inside of us.  So to be given this safe outlet was very necessary, after a long sorrowful summer without their Dad.  Overall, we made it through the month with some joy amidst the pain and for that we are always grateful.

September was a whole ‘nother beast. My goodness! Our schedules were in full speed, we were still trying to get a rhythm. Thankfully we had a quick getaway for Elijah’s birthday, and I believe it gave us all a boost. Kendall had her first interview, where she was chosen to be an outreach volunteer for the Pregnancy Center in Plant City, as she is passionate about Pro-life causes.  She had no idea, that this was my passion as well and I worked at a Pregnancy crises center in college all the way up until my pregnancy with her.  The babies started gymnastics, and it was Amira’s very first extracurricular activity and after a few tears, she enjoyed her class. Separation anxiety has been huge this month for many of the kids. 

And here we are in October. I feel offended that the year is almost over, and Patrick is not here. Thankfully, we started off the month with a bang with a visit from his little sister Krislyn, her husband (who we hooked her up with), and their two kids. Seeing my niece and nephew have cousin time with my kids was beautiful. However, just still unbelievable that their proud Uncle Pat wasn’t with us.  We spent time on the beach, they came to our home, we took them to our favorite parks and out for ice cream.  It was a true blessing to love on them and be loved.

Then we were blessed with tickets to see Elevation Worship in the VIP seats at the Amalie Arena, the four oldest kids went with close friends of ours and they had a blast.  My sister and brother-in-law took the little ones to Chuck E. Cheese so I could have a couple hours to myself. On top of it all, we hit another milestone where Kendall went to her FIRST DANCE! The Homeschool Homecoming of 2023 was a great experience for her, and we had friends and family show up to see her off. She looked beautiful and handled herself like the beautiful young lady she’s growing into. She said she danced for hours.

 The next major move this month was the starting of our Peer Grief Support Group, Hand in Hand.  The kids helped me to create the structure, choose volunteers, pick curriculum and activities, and even went to tour the church with me.  We had our first official meeting on Tuesday 10/10, which also marked the 22^nd month since we lost Patrick. It was truly an honor to do something new and beautiful on that day.  We built something new on this side of our loss, and that means so much for our grief journey. Our families and volunteers showed up early and eager to walk this road together. 

The next big thing is a celebration we are having this Sunday 10/15 that will be a combination of celebrating four years in ministry and New Life Village’s “Fishers of Men” award, given in Patrick’s honor.  I intentionally planned this on the 15^th, because the 16^th is Benji’s 5^th birthday, and the 17^th would have been Patrick’s 41^st birthday. So, trying to do life-giving things that would honor God and Patrick is how we are getting through this.  We are so grateful for your prayers and ask that you will keep them coming, they make a difference.  I usually update our Instagram at least once a day, if you would follow us @servingwith7 that would be great.  Our Peer Support Group is on Instagram as well @hand_in_hand_brandon