It was the Sunday before Labor Day last year that we called 911 for Bryant.
It was the most ordinary day, and I never would have dreamed that it was the last day I would ever get to talk with Bryant, ever get a hug from him, ever get to sleep in the same bed with him. I wish I had known and I wish I could have embraced him, told him so many things, and just cherished that day with him. But it was mundane and normal and boring. Even when he was on the stretcher going to the ambulance I never once dreamed that it was the last time I would be able to talk with him. I thought he would get help and we would all help him recover. I didn’t say good-bye.. I couldn’t have fathomed that I needed to.
What do I feel today one year later? I feel that I miss him. I remember all the sweet little things he did that made the frustrating things seem so small standing where I am today without him. I picked up two coins off the floor in my house today and put them in his coin jar. He kept a coin jar to very slowly save up for every now and then when he and I would go on a trip together, just the two of us. We’ve never had a lot of extra money, so spending it on a trip took a lot of sacrifice. He wanted it to be special for me, though, and wanted me to be able to have my own personal spending money to buy anything for myself that I wanted while we traveled. After saving his coins and a little extra here and there I would usually get about $200 - $350 spending money just for me. He knew if it wasn’t designated just for me that I would feel too guilty buying things for myself that I wanted, so he took care of me in this way.
Today I’m reminded how sweet and thoughtful that was. I was the planner of the two of us, so he wasn’t great about planning romantic trips away but for years to save up coins at a time to be able to treat me on our next special trip was very thoughtful and methodical. It meant a lot at the time, but thinking back on it makes me cry. There are no more trips, there are no more dinners together, no more texts, no more hugs, just silence.
I remember when we were first at the hospital, the doctor who performed his brain surgery told me, “This is devastating.” I didn’t believe him, though. I knew Bryant would be okay and he would show them all up. I didn’t tell anyone the doctor said that because it wasn’t the final say. But looking back a year later, I picture myself now standing across from the doctor and hearing him say, “This is devastating.” And now after fighting for and caring for Bryant in the hospital for months, after seeing my children’s hearts break over and over again, after trying to do this raise a family thing alone… The me today can say back to the doctor in my mind, “Yes, this is devastating.” He could see how this would play out for a young man’s wife and children in a way I couldn’t at the time, but today I can, and I now know what I couldn’t have imagined at the time.
One year later I am learning to receive from the Lord what I need. I am learning to walk out each part of life in my family without my partner which I have never had to do. I am learning to combat the loneliness with contentment in Him. I see the Lord take care of us still when we need Him the most, often through His body of fellow followers of Christ. One year later, it seems I think of Bryant every minute of the day. I think of our time together spanning 26 years, I replay our time in the hospital, I think of him as I experience life without him by my side, and I still can’t fully comprehend that he is not here. Just as much as those things, I think of my children and I try so hard to keep life moving for their sakes and try to bring Bryant always into each part of our lives as we continue to walk in faith, hope, and love.
Comments