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 

Barbershops & Breakdowns

 As we sat here preparing for Hurricane Milton, I received an automated message from a Barber in the area. Early on, I remember trying to find a new barber for the boys. How would I be able to take them back to the man who had cut Patrick's hair? It was right across the street from the hospital that issued me the most devastating blow of my life.  So, I had to find a new one. 

My first interaction with a barber was a few days after losing Patrick. I couldn't and hadn't' absorbed what was happening, but I knew my kids needed to look good. I remembered a company that offered mobile cuts, and I called him before the funeral, and he pulled right up in front of my house.  He had a full shop inside of a gutted FedEx truck. It was quite impressive. But after all the hoopla, after all the families had gone home...I faced the daunting task of taking the boys to a new barber. It was horrible.

What I didn't know, was that the new barber was in the mall. The mall is probably one of the top 5 most triggery places in this city. I HATE the mall.  Incredibly TOO many memories there; it was our hangout spot as a whole family. We often went as Patrick loved shopping for the kids, getting pretzels and haircuts. Back to the new barber. He was slow, he didn't know my kids, and I thought I would die.  But Christian had been booked to shoot a spot for ABC Mouse, and I could no longer put it off. Although I made two appointments for both boys, I had to leave after it took over an hour for one cut.  The rest of that day was a blur. 

After that experience, I knew I had a decision to make. Christian had another shoot and needed his hair cut badly. I asked if he was okay going back to Daddy's barber, and he said yes. We walked in, and Mr. Mike looked like he wanted to cry, but I watched him excitedly greet my son. To this day, I know he has no idea how much that meant to me.  He gently handled my husband. Patrick always came home so pumped after being at the barber. He loved Mike. He loved the conversations, and his heart for his family. Patrick was always a champion of people. As our good friend and Pastor Melody always says, "Patrick left us better than he found us."

So now, the boys go solo or my Brother -in-law takes them for me. It's the place where Benji got his first big boy haircut.  I can imagine how Mike must feel, watching them sit in his chair, month after month, year after year, growing into young men without Patrick.  This loss is so unfair. It's not just one person. It's not just one experience. It's a string of events and moments that he won't be here for. And this makes NO sense. It never will.

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

Messy Grief - Part 1

 Over the years and throughout my time in seminary, I'd read periodically on the topic of grief.  I was curious enough to read about what it could look like and study some components for my biblical counseling coursework. But superstitiously I thought if I researched it too much, I'd be inviting the premature loss of a loved one. I know that's crazy and it's not the most spiritually informed thought, but it's real.  

After our situation happened, I poured over the bible, devotional, books, blogs, vlogs, pamphlets everything I could get my hands on to try to make sense of what had happened.  But I learned quick and fast that nothing would make it make sense, and that a lot of what I was reading was really general or "removed." The authors were speaking from a space of super spirituality that I couldn't get with.  Either that, or they were so far removed from those first initial days and weeks of the pummeling pain that I just couldn't relate.  I had to shut that all down. So, I started writing.  

As I thought about it, of the sermons I've heard in my lifetime, all of the teachings, biblical lament was rarely a focus.  Teaching about that real space where grief and faith intersect was a rare topic. Yet, it is something that will touch us all.  I have more thoughts on this that I'll share in another post. The raw truth is: grief is messy. And for whatever reason, even though it's something that we all will definitely go through, it's hardly referenced.  It's a subject that's rarely attended to or addressed, in and out of the church.  I thought back to when my granddaddy passed.  When I got back in town from his service, we went to serve at our church, and no one asked how we were.  A few people said "awww, I'm sorry" but quickly moved on. My grandfather DIED at 68! He was a pastor, a loving husband, father, grandfather, friend, mentor, etc.  How was I expected to show up at church and just serve the save God who chose not to heal my grandfather from cancer? Thankfully, the loss of Patrick we have experienced a much different more empathetic response, but sheesh!

So, here's what messy grief looks like, in our journey thus far. There are no lines, no calendars, no framework, no way around it.  Here's an example of what messy looks like for us:

• At times I don't ask for help because it reminds me of my void, and it's retraumatizing.
• Other times I don't ask for help because the fear of disappointment and rejection are now higher than ever
• Sometimes my kids will make such a mockery and mess of our house, I'm sure they're protesting a world that makes no sense.  "When I tidy up and put everything in its place like I did before, it won't bring my Dad back. "
• When my kids can't sleep, they miss their Dad. "I never had trouble sleeping when Daddy was here."
• If my kid disobeys or doesn't complete a task, I have to sit and debate whether to be disciplinarian or counselor-maid.
• Sometimes I'll throw out all of my plans and take the kids to four different parks, just so we can be in nature, and I can meltdown and avoid my seemingly insurmountable Mom List at home.
• I struggle to believe that God can make something beautiful out of this.
• Sometimes on birthdays I open sob with my kids. Many times they are strong for me, too. 
• When I enjoy something, I wonder if my kids worry that I'm healed and over it. Of course, they don't but the fact that I have to even monitor those thoughts is exhausting. 
• I don't think I'll ever be able to hear or use the word "miss" again aside from this situation. It no longer means the same thing.
• Sometimes I type, "My phone battery is low on power" instead of "my phone d*ed". Like it's that deep.
• They hate this house without their Dad in it. This is the house where our lives changed forever. Another reason why getting them to do chores is a struggle sometimes. No amount of order in the house will restore what we've lost. Contrarily, I struggle to function in mess.
• The hardest thing to try to do is to keep your kids motivated to do anything, set goals, look to the future, for two reasons:1) Because whatever they face, Patrick won't be here. 2)The reward for people seeking after God, living a life of love and service abruptly ends with them being promoted to heaven and leaving a slew of heartbroken loved ones behind. Thankfully God handles this for me, I don't even try to make it make sense.