A Letter to Heaven

I knew the fall season would be difficult. For us, fall meant the spray season was essentially over; it meant my husband would spend more hours at home than in his airplane. Date nights could, once again, commence. All of the “to-do’s” that were put on the back burner during the busy summer would get done. And there would be a lot of SDSU jackrabbit tailgate parties and football games—one of our favorite things to do together. At least that’s what I imagine. Sadly, we never got to experience any of the above as husband and wife. I caught a little glimpse of this life last fall when I was doing a clinical rotation in Pierre—the everyday, 5 AM, 60 mile {one way} commute from Gettysburg was exhausting, but one of the best decisions I ever made. I would do it everyday for the rest of my life in a heartbeat if it meant coming home to my husband each night.

It has been over 5 months since this nightmare, this unimaginable tragedy, became our every day reality. I still have days where I feel like this isn’t real life. This can’t be MY life. But then I come to terms with reality, and accept this life, my life, and try to do so with grace. I’ve done a lot of reading on grief and appreciate any and every testimony regarding widowhood. There is a widow [Christina Rasmussen, author of Second Firsts] I follow closely who refers to this time following loss as “the waiting room”; it’s the time period between exiting one life and beginning a new life. While I love this philosophy, I do think it’s more than just “waiting”… It’s anguish, heartache, and hell, for lack of a better term. It’s adapting to a new, very difficult normal so to speak. It’s seeking out moments of clarity to guide your every decision. It’s choosing to find the tiniest glimmer of light during the darkest days. I have had to work hard {mentally} to not be bitter, to not question His plan, and to maintain hope for my future despite my losses. There has to be a reason I wasn’t in that damned airplane, right?

While grieving the loss of my beloved husband, my counselor {Yes, I see a counselor 1-2x/week. No, I don’t think of this as a sign of weakness, but as a sign of self-worth instead} recommended that I write him a letter. I’m not going to lie—I was a little hesitant at first. Where would I start? What would I say to him? Would it be a soppy, love letter or would my anger shine through? {Yes, I love my hubby dearly, but I am mad at him for leaving me and taking 3 other men with him} I feel like I could write him a book with everything that has happened over the last 5 months. And questions… I think his brothers and I are up to 15,476 questions for him to answer. Speaking of questions, if you are one to “question” why I write what I write and share with the world, I kindly invite you to exit out of this blog and forego reading my letter to heaven J

{Background: I decided to write my letter to DJ on a Hallmark card [See below] I never gave to him, but had every intention on doing so. The crazy thing is, I bought this card when I was young (14-15 years old) and promised myself I would give to the person most deserving of the words written on this card, the person who I envisioned would be my husband. I meant to bring this card to Mexico and give to DJ on our wedding day, but that, obviously, did not happen. The funny thing is, is that DJ also forgot the wedding card he had bought for me… I just happened to realize I forgot mine before we left the country and settled for a “Happy Anniversary” card that I picked up @ Walmart on our way to Minneapolis. Mr. “wing it”, on the other hand, had to settle for the last resort option—an 8x11 piece of computer paper (folded in half) with the most hideous clip-art image, rose petals in the shape of a heart, printed in our resort lobby…True DJ fashion right there!} 

  

               To my love, my angel— 

         I meant to give this card to you on our wedding day, but like our short 22 months together, that week was a whirlwind. I guess you could say I pulled a “you” and forgot it at home J I bought this card years ago because I thought the words were perfect. I promised myself I would give it to the man who, to me, fulfilled these words. Even though you’re in heaven now, I think you will always be this man…my husband, the one I continue to love with all of my heart and always will—no matter what my future brings. I trust that you will watch over me and guide me, comfort me and protect me, and mostly, I trust that you will bring me peace. As long as you are “ok” up there, I will figure out a way to be “ok” down here and move forward just as you would want me to do.  My heart is broken, but it is broken for you and all of your dreams, our dreams. 

         I hope you were able to meet our child in heaven. You always thought we would have a boy first… I wonder if you were right? You usually were… I always said you were too good to be true—this is one of the few times that I will say that I was actually right. I’m trying to not shed as many tears these days because I know you would want me to be strong, but it is so hard. There isn’t a minute that goes by that I don’t think of you and the love we shared. I would give anything for more time together. I love you more and will be your forever wife.  

XOXO—Megan

PS- Blondie and Zoey have been good. They miss you too, but are keeping entertained doing what you trained them to do best—hunting birds.

This fall has been tough. Somehow, someway I continue to get out of bed every morning and attempt to live my life. While I do believe widows are granted this rare, incredible perspective on life and love, it’s not something that happens overnight {or even in 5 months} … As I move forward on my journey through this crazy, beautiful, so unpredictable life, I continue to be thankful for all of your love, encouragement, and endless prayers. No words will ever be adequate enough to portray my gratitude—I’m humbled and blessed.

Wishing you a happy fall,

Megan 

My wedding day "card" from my hubby that I will forever cherish :)