It's been almost two years....

    It’s been almost two years, and Patrick still has not come home. I type that at the risk of sounding crazy, but to be honest I’m not crazy. This situation is crazy. Having 14 kids' birthdays without Patrick is crazy. Solo parenting seven grieving children all while I am trying to navigate what just happened to my life… That’s crazy. Still being able to provide emotional support, do outreach, and create a foundation for the bereaved while grieving...that's crazy.

    In the first few weeks of losing Patrick, someone who was probably well-meaning yet ill-informed, said to me, "God is going to use this." That infuriated me on 100 different levels! As someone who has been used the majority of my life by God, this didn't seem like the logical next move. Over years ago, God burst into my "independent woman" plans, united me with Patrick, and allowed us to create a small army of disciples.  I think I can safely say that the death of Patrick wasn't necessary in order for God to use us. We were being used just fine and frequently. The very same God that created something from dust, with His very words... The God that can grow an entire human in the womb of a mother for nine months... That kind of creative God did not have to take my husband and these kids' father in order for us to be used. But I digress. 

    During this time, I have seen exactly how much it takes to keep it moving. I watch my children continuously make the choice to wake up each morning and stare the day in the face. I look on as they take one step toward the light; onne step toward peace and joy, in the midst of extreme confusion.  I have seen their talents and personalities develop. I have seen a resilience in them that I didn’t think was possible. I have seen the love and guidance of their earthly father show up in them in a myriad of ways. Yet I’ve also heard screams from their little bodies that I could’ve gone my whole life without hearing. I’ve seen them be disappointed at people who truly should’ve showed up for us. I have seen the toiling of their little minds as they process never seeing Daddy again. I’ve seen them break into a full-blown panic at the slightest scare. This kind of out- of- order loss makes everything that you are sure of feel like quicksand.  Amazingly, I’ve seen my children be kept by God in a way that can only be the result of His sovereignty. I’ve heard joy in their hearts as they sing songs of praise. I’ve heard the pain in their lyrics as they screamed the words to songs that no longer seem like they fit life as we know it.  I’ve witnessed true joy as they experience a new adventure.  

    In the past two years, we've learned exactly what it feels like to be "in the margins" even more than we did before. And the lack of support and compassion for grieving families has been one of the saddest realities on this road. Wearily, we press on and continue to be who God has made us. If you are new to our blog, we thank you for taking the time to read this. We really want to shed light on how absolutely awful the moment-to-moment grief impacts us. It’s been two years, but it didn’t get better. Our village has been absolutely everything!  It takes so many mental and physical resources to keep it moving. So much compassion and flexibility are required to continue to raise these children in the light of the Lord: To keep them pressing on in purpose.  So, if you have been one of the people that we knew would be there for us, we thank you and appreciate you for doubling down and showing your love for Patrick by loving his family.  But, if you happen to be one of those that walked away in our darkest time, I respectfully ask that you keep walking. There were a bunch of little losses that follow Patrick’s passing, and although they were not as substantial, it still stung. We still noticed. Alas, God provides.

Keep The Flowers Comin'

On our first Valentine's Day as a married couple, I remember seeing the florist walk through the parking lot with two beautiful bouquets of red roses. I thought possibly, he had a few deliveries to make. Nope. Patrick sent me two dozen roses for the special occasion. When I called to thank him, I asked "Why two, babe?" He said, "because everyone is going to get at least one, but you're extra special and I want that to be known." He was a hopeless romantic, me...not so much. But it was truly enchanting to see his love for me on display, constantly.  For the rest of our marriage, I would continue to be showered with roses not only on holidays, but on those "just because I went to Sam's Club" occasions as well.

The next day after I shared of Patrick's promotion to heaven, the flowers began pouring in. My cousin RiShard sent the first beautiful delivery. Every day leading up to the services, flowers were delivered from near and far.  For Christmas, we received flowers. My birthday, New Year's Eve, more flowers. Valentine's Day/Avielle's birthday, still more blossoming flowers.  A couple of weeks ago, I saw some gorgeous tulips in the supermarket and just had to grab them.  For Joy's Birthday, more fresh, fragrant flowers.

This past struggly Saturday, we hurried and got dressed to head to my sister's for brunch. On our way, I saw a huge sign that read "Plant Sale." I felt the most genuine, yet foreign, smile spread across my face.  Seeing those vivid, green, living things made my heart happy. The kids saw my reaction and encouraged me to stop and shop, and I did. 

A family friend caught up with me and asked, "What do you need? I wanted to send you flowers but is that cliche?" I replied, "Send the flowers, please." Any living, vibrant, fragrant delivery spurred by the thoughtfulness of others during this time of seemingly unrelenting shock and sadness is welcome. And Perfect. 

Karaoke

 I knew I needed to post something. But I couldn't get deep and heavy as it's been a lot going on. Nothing that I feel ready to share just yet. So, I'm choosing the "story route". 

I pulled up my google photos to search for pics of Joy as her birthday is coming up on Good Friday.  As I scrolled to Jan 1,2021, there were a few videos of Patrick with a mic in his hand. I remembered how we did family karaoke on New Year's Day, as part two of my birthday celebration which was New Year's Eve. I remember it vividly, but it seems so long ago.  He and the kids had a blast singing and debating which Disney song was best.

Earlier this week, I was telling the kids about the concert that Patrick gave me in our old living room.  Thanks to our good friend George, Patrick had a mic, a stand, a speaker and a full list of Blackstreet, Tyrese, and Boys II Men tunes on a playlist.  He put the kids to bed, came downstairs dressed up, and gave me a full on concert. I loved every minute of it. I laughed and sang along, as the kids peered over the banister to see what was going. 

Every single part of our lives together was a song.

I'm sorry, but I can't commit

One of the things that I loved most about my relationship with Patrick, was that we willingly CHOSE to do life together.  Neither one of us felt like we were missing anything before, but once we met, we were inseparable.  It was a God thing.  We had our own visions for how our lives would play out. For instance, he told me, "Before you, I never really saw myself being married. I was just going to be that cool uncle with the really good job that came home for Christmas with lots of presents."  Even in the emergency room, I reminded him "It was either you or no one. If I was going to experience love, it would have only been with the fullness in which you loved me, or not at all." (There will be another post on how we met)

With that being said, each and every day in this current reality is...beyond belief. No part of this mission was meant to be done solo. We were better together. Our lives were so intertwined that we could practically be blindfolded with one hand tied behind our backs and would get the task accomplished with synchronized movements and motions. The teamwork truly made the dream work.  So, trying to plan anything, even a doctor's appointment means that I'm committing to knowing and accepting that Patrick won't be there to meet me.  I won't have to send him a note to put it on his calendar.  Even typing that, I know someone reading this just broke down, and I'm sorry.  I can't even comprehend why I would have even typed that, but I did. 

So, no I won't be able to commit to that. Thank you for the invite, thank you for thinking of us, we appreciate the offer we just cannot commit to much other than getting up and allowing God to comfort us and show us His love and supernatural comfort each day. This is just where I am.