A Year Without Him

A YEAR WITHOUT DAVE - IN PICTURES

In the last year:

September brought football season, a young man named Meyer in a Blue Devils uniform, pride and tears, support from friends and coaches, a big touchdown! Numbness, shock and a strange kind of adrenaline got us through.

October brought Kenny's 15th birthday, our first family celebration without Dave. Homecoming...Dave, a past Homecoming King, loved Homecoming, would have been so amazed to see Kenny in his tuxedo.Halloween potluck with friends, corn maze, pumpkin guts and trick-or-treating. Dave always dressed up with the kids. Our loss, our grief, is raw and ever-present, overwhelming and unbearable.

November brought Zach's first Cougar game, our first holiday without Dave, a Thanksgiving for which we were not grateful, tearful car trip to Kelso, and Disney on Ice...finding smiles and laughter, and knowing how Dave would have loved it.

December...Kate's dance recital, remembering how he spent the last one in the hospital. Kate, dancing so beautifully, then looking at the flower Dave gave her last year, dried and faded. Christmas, music, family, gifts, a trip to Seaside,a new car, nothing the same, feeling off-kilter. Then Dave's birthday. He would have been 43. Winter outside, winter in our hearts.

January brought Kyle's birthday (he would have been 17) and Kate's 10th birthday. Dave's little girl. Smiling girls on ice, remembering Dave skating or bowling with them in years past. The Conspiracy of Hope concert, ringing with the love that Dave's students have for him. Bringing Duke into our family, his boundless energy and enthusiasm reminding us of Dave, making room in our hearts for new love.

February was full-on basketball, watching Zach look more like his father every day, sailing down the court, leaping, flying. Seeing Dave live on in his son, searching for ways to keep Dave present, with us. Grief, like the tide, rises up, recedes and rises again, in patterns that are sometimes predictable and sometimes make no sense.

March brought Zach's 14th birthday, more basketball and Kenny's Special Olympics ski trip. Dave had a passion and understanding for kids with disabilities, his belief in people knew no restrictions. Special Olympics is an experience that defies words and brings out the best in people. Kate, skiing like a champion, like she'd been doing it her whole life, windblown hair, red cheeks, smiling face, flying down the slopes. Exhilarated, recognizing that some things are still important, that there is still meaning in our lives.

April...spring, rain, baseball. Zach's trip to Washington DC, growing up so fast. Kenny and Kate visit the beach. I have time alone at home. Time to reflect, look within. We find that we're healing, growing, and strong as well as being broken, lost and bereft.

May, learning to work through the days without falling apart, finding things still sneak up on me. A song, buying peanut butter, the unexpected reminders. More baseball, softball, still basketball. Driving a lot. Zach in the hospital on Memorial Day, like Dave was...flashbacks to the summer before, the fear, the hope, the roller coaster. Learning of Doug's death, feeling like the solidity of the earth is just an illusion.

June brought Kate's dance recital again, Kate floating across the stage, beautiful and graceful. Zach's 8th grade graduation...remembering Dave just getting out of the hospital in time for Kenny's last year. Warm weather bringing memories of the year before.

July meant more baseball, more travels. Seeing the Haroldsons, visiting Kyle and Doug's graves. Struggling to integrate what was with what is, weaving memories into our day, sensing some things settling into place, and others shifting. Learning to live in our new world, finding ways to fit, always remembering.

August...hot days, campfires and smores, scorching sun, more home improvements. Peach Basket with the Haroldsons. The seasons change, the landscape changes, the trees in our yard change. So do we. We've been through the cycles...disbelief, shock, numbness, bargaining, rationalizing, searching, fear, terror, anger, shaken faith, rage, screaming, fighting it, despair, agony, sadness, tears, accepting help, prayers, trusting God, finding hope, speaking truth, and of course, love...always love. Not in that order. Not in a neat, orderly progression, but in fits and starts, here and there, over and over, deeper and deeper.

On August 23, 2005, we were thrust into a new journey. A new life. A life without Dave here.

On August 23, 2006, I can say that we're learning how to travel that path. It's only the beginning. And while it's a journey we did not want, and while we would turn back in a heartbeat, if only we could, we have discovered that as awful as this is, as terrible as it continues to be, there is still much to be grateful for in this life.

In each of these past 12 months, we have learned to move forward, to keep going, even if we didn't want to. We have learned that His strength is shown in our weakness. When we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, His glory is shown in meeting our needs. We have learned to stay open to joy, to laughter, to love, even when it hurts. Protecting our hearts, hiding from feelings leads not to freedom from pain, but to isolation. We have learned that it's okay to feel many emotions at the same time. We have learned that grief is the price of caring, that the depth of our pain in loss, is but a reflection of the depth of our love. We have learned that there are still things that matter, that are important, and that the most important is our connection to one another. We have learned that honesty is more complicated than it sounds and more valuable than we knew. We have learned that people are incredible, that friends and strangers alike will support, care, step up, that God works through the people in our lives. We have learned that there aren't any easy answers to the big questions, and that perhaps there aren't any answers at all, this side of heaven. And we've learned that that is what faith is all about.

"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for
and certain of what we cannot see."
Hebrews 11:1

And I am certain of Dave's love. A love so huge that its ripples are still echoing on this earth today. A love that is certainly raining down from heaven to us. A love that is steadfast and never falters, never dies. And we know that we love because He first loved us.

Shell