Hope is the only thing stronger
than fear.
I cannot believe we are
approaching one year since 4 souls were tragically taken from us all too soon.
I can honestly say these past 11 months have been the fastest, yet longest
months of my life. It’s been a roller coaster of ups and downs {definitely more
downs than ups!} It’s been a year to grieve… To shed more tears than you could
think is humanly possible… To dream new dreams… A year to grow in my faith… To
heal my broken-heart… To face new fears I didn’t know could even exist… To
embrace this life I was given… A year to remember and cherish all the wonderful
memories I was able to make with my hubby in our short time together. It’s been
a year.
Sometime during this past year, I
came across an acronym for the word “hope.” And to this day—it has stuck in my mind
and heart. This particular acronym has gotten me out of bed many mornings and
has fueled my drive to move forward in this crazy life. The acronym, Hold
On
Pain
Ends,
provides a glimmer of light in the bleak world of widowhood. I love it—simple, straightforward,
and something to look forward to. And while I don’t think pain necessarily ends
per se, I do think that it evolves over time in order to allow the
broken-hearted to find a sense of peace. I look forward to this day. But until
then, there is pain, yet there is hope…
One of my toughest nights as a
widow was meeting up with my 3 widow warriors to collect our late husband’s
belongings that were on board the airplane. I prepared myself to see the worst,
and it was worse than the worst. Upon walking into the musty, eerie room, I
laid eyes on DJ’s mangled headset. It was the headset he ALWAYS wore when
flying. I nearly fell to my knees. I briefly stopped breathing. And I cried. That hot night in July was our attempt to find
some closure, together, as none of us were able to see our husbands one last
time to say our final goodbyes. We hugged, we shed tears, we even laughed
somewhat {Thank you, DJ, for packing Wranglers that maybe would have fit in
high school...} as we tried to comprehend our new hellish, painful reality.
A few weeks after that unpleasant,
never-want-to-remember night in July, I began counseling. My counselor {who I
adore, by the way} suggested I find something to symbolize DJ. I knew exactly
what that something was going to be… His headset. I managed to peak my eyes
into the black garbage bag, storing all of his ruined belongings, to grab the
headset, and then quickly shoved the bag back into hiding where it still
remains to this day. I cleaned up the broken headset as best as I could and
found a new home for it… A simple white gift bag {received just one month prior
to the accident with a wedding gift in it from our dear friends} with the word
“Hope” stamped on it and below it, the bible verse—Jeremiah 29:11.
“For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
To be honest, that damn headset
ignited my newly widowed anxiety and created a whole new roller coaster of
emotions that brought me back to that fateful, horrid night in April. One day,
though, as I held his damaged headset in my shaking hands with tears streaming
down my face, I was slowly able to put the broken parts and wires back where they
belonged and before I knew it, his headset, though still ruined and “broken”,
was intact again. And all of the sudden that previously mangled headset became
a representation of myself, never functioning the same, but whole again with a
couple of warrior wounds that will always remain. That day, I found hope… in a
headset.
“I feel more hopeful, not just for heaven someday, but for life today.” {Anna Whiston-Donaldson}
April is
a tough month. Our year of “firsts” is nearly complete—Thank you God. On the
other hand, this journey through grief is only just beginning. It is summed up
best in the book Rare Bird, a memoir
of loss and love, written by Anna Whiston-Donaldson when she says, “I am not
going to resign myself to the second year being worse, but I’m not going to
expect to feel healed just because we make it to the one-year mark either.” As
always, thank you for your healing prayers, your continued thoughts, words of
encouragement, and HOPE for a brighter tomorrow. No words will ever express my
gratitude that I have for all of you who have lifted me up this past year. I
ask for your continued prayers, even though it’s been nearly a year, and I ask
that you always remember four incredible men—DJ, Brent, Nick, & Logan.
With
love & gratitude,
Megan
 |
| {In honor & in memory of my pilot who is flying high with Jesus} |
