I received a Mother's Day card this morning from my son. It was beautiful and perfect and talked about how some mom's houses aren't spotless and sometimes they get the kids to school late, but they manage to get the important things right. He wrote in his typical Sgt. way. Mom, this was the most accurate card I could find. I love you. Always your son --then he signs it with his full name lol. The card touched me, but more than that it reminded me of his dad, who would spend hours finding cards that said what he wanted to say and then mailing them to me when he was on the road. So I spent a half an hour remembering and weeping and being happy that Pete lives on in the little things in his children.
I'm sorry that any of us have to go through this loss, it is truly the cruelest cleaving.
Yes, the fire blazes so haot in my heart. I understand this journey. Without my faith and the people --mostly my military family--that have carried me, I would have cowered in the corner. I know, as surely as I have known anything, that this is the woman that I spent my life in dress rehearsal to be. I ache sometimes realizing that it took Phil's death for me to have this mission and journey, but make no mistake, I know what it is like to love well and to be loved well. I believe in a chapter two and I believe on working on me until they day I die.
While counseling was not available to meet my specific needs, I was carried and I did have a minister who dropped everything any time I needed him. It wasn't just prayer, but work....hard work. I wrote a book which was my way of processing what was happening to me. I still break once in awhile. I am lonely, but I see the blessings that God has provided along the way. I am humbled....so humbled.
Linda, this phrase echos for me. I have asked Our Lord many times, what purpose does He have for me, that required him to take Pete away? What mission do I have to complete that could not be completed together with my spouse? I know surely there is something, but I still have no firm direction, or passion to pursue, which in itself is very odd to me, all of my life, I have always had some inkling, or urge into which direction I should go. But, this last year has been terribly silent and adrift. A visiting priest told me to continue to be silent and listen, that in this silent time God is preparing me. So far the only thing that has sparked much passion for me is to speak out about safety in the oil field, to put a face to the reality of how important that safety truly and deeply is. If some good can come of Pete's loss because of it, it will help I think. To make safety personal. Perhaps that is where I am supposed to go. Pete begged and cajoled and pushed me to go back to school, because he thought I had things to say but no one would listen if I didn't have credentials. That sort of haunts me when I think about that now. But, perhaps gathering the credentials that will give me a voice was so that I could speak for him and all the other faceless and expendable oil field workers, to put their faces out there. I don't know, but I keep praying and asking and waiting.