Nearing the Second Anniversary

Post 302

Friday hurt. Per usual in the morning after I first open my eyes, I begin with the commitment I made to myself about 8 years ago, that the first thing I would do every single day was start it with God. I wanted to honor Him first above all else. I wish I could go back to my younger self and tell me to DO THIS. For me, it’s just reading the verse of the day from the YouVersion Bible app, and reading whatever Plan I’ve picked for myself, which almost always have corresponding Bible verses. Plans can be anything from the first one it says I ever did in May of 2017 “Goliath Must Fall: Winning The Battle Against Your Giants” to “Dealing With Uncertainty” to the current one “Authentically, Uniquely You.” Plans can be found by topics: Anger, Hope, Anxiety, Depression, Fear, Joy, Pride, etc. This probably takes 5 minutes or less daily.

If I haven’t already prayed that morning (waking in the wee hours I try to put myself back to sleep praying for people - and it often works), I pray a little.

After this, it’s time for my games of Wordle and Connections, of which my cousin Jenny and I still share our results immediately - through thick and thin apparently. I believe I still did Wordle (I just started Connections 7 weeks ago) even the days right after Mo passed because it was the one little thing I could do that was normal.

All of this can be anywhere from 5:45 am to 6:30 am usually. Since I only work twenty steps from my bed, I often stay in bed perusing other things on my phone, usually substack writers that I subscribe to or follow. Many times these are also Christian writers, so it is a way of continuing the devotion.

So Friday I was at this point and began to read a post that somebody I subscribe to shared from another writer whom I don’t subscribe to. It was about her first Christmas without her husband of 30+ years, whom she lost this past July, which I also clicked through to her account of his passing, which just happened to be by a heart attack. She described in detail the chaos and effort that transpired with the paramedics when they arrived, having worked on trying to revive him for a very long time. The picture she painted took me back to the most terrible few hours of my life. Mo had begun seizing uncontrollably, unexpectedly, and I was rushed out of the room by the “sitter”, an employee who records what is going on in the room every fifteen minutes for seizure risk and other patients the administration deems necessary. My imagination took hold picturing similar life-saving efforts for Morgan. I believe they tried for an hour to get her heart to start again. The sadness and “injustice” that she was not revived flooded into my psyche, yet I still had to go to work.

It’s begun to be difficult “out there” again because of all the Christmas decorations, songs, and planned festivities. Christmas makes me feel ill. I have to avoid looking at or hearing anything Christmas related just to have a normal day. Since my body is already in this pretty constant state then, I could not move on easily - tears flowed every now and again for a few hours while I worked. It also was a Friday - the same day of the week Mo passed, so literally 1 year and 49 weeks prior.

I have wanted to contact that sitter ever since the day God chose him to be the one on sight to help me and hold me until my husband arrived. I could not do so, however, because he was a potential witness to the lawsuit that should have been. Since September, when we found out it would not move forward, I have been able to look him up, and I’d think about it, get distracted and forget again. Over and over I could not remember to do it at the right time or place.

Until Friday. Already upset, I thought it was the perfect time to “add to” my agony. I got into the digital medical records and looked up his last name from his sitter documentation. (I never forgot his first name). Next was the internet search which almost immediately brought back an Instagram Post of his from the summer. When I clicked and saw his face, I 100% relived the devastating news I received in that waiting room. I began to sob and sob uncontrollably, and it was so strange that both my hands just became very tingly. I don’t know what that was. I’ve never had that happen before.

I lived through the horrendous sadness, and a couple hours later I contacted the fraternity from that Instagram post to see if they’d forward what I’d written about him to them, in hopes that he’d contact me, and they replied they had a couple hours later. I have not yet heard from the young man, which is not surprising to me based on what must be a very very busy life, and I would think one would have to make themselves prepared to respond to an email like the one I’d sent, telling him he meant so much to me and a short blip about the lawsuit being the reason so much time had passed. I will give it a couple weeks before trying a different route. I am elated to see he is doing so well in his life.

So….just another link in this grief chain. Being so focused on The Rebel’s Hike book this year, I had compartmentalized quite well! I know there is no one way to grieve correctly. I think the important thing is to allow yourself to feel it when you feel it. I think doing this keeps compartmentalization possible actually.

For anybody reading this who wants to memorialize Morgan on December 23rd, just like last year, we are suggesting eating and appreciating a nice big burrito or bowl from Chipotle, one of her favorite meals. If you have the means, buy a gift card for another patron to pass on the love in her name. We will be doing it up in Nashville with our son, his new girlfriend, and two of Morgan’s cousins and their young families who live up there.

I do not have a good update on how Willy, from the last post, is doing. I do know that he has not passed away, so I hope no news is good news and he is getting stronger and stronger. Please continue to add him to your prayers.

Romans 12:4-8 MSG

[4-6a] In this way we are like the various parts of a human body. Each part gets its meaning from the body as a whole, not the other way around. The body we’re talking about is Christ’s body of chosen people. Each of us finds our meaning and function as a part of his body. But as a chopped-off finger or cut-off toe we wouldn’t amount to much, would we? So since we find ourselves fashioned into all these excellently formed and marvelously functioning parts in Christ’s body, let’s just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren’t. [6b-8] If you preach, just preach God’s Message, nothing else; if you help, just help, don’t take over; if you teach, stick to your teaching; if you give encouraging guidance, be careful that you don’t get bossy; if you’re put in charge, don’t manipulate; if you’re called to give aid to people in distress, keep your eyes open and be quick to respond; if you work with the disadvantaged, don’t let yourself get irritated with them or depressed by them. Keep a smile on your face.