How one woman used #running to help survive the loss of her husband and raise two boys on her own.
Unfortunately I cannot blame them for their conversation. I have never made them banana bread. Ever. I barely cook for them and the only baking I have ever done for them is out of a box. When you are a widow who has a crazy job, works a ton, and has two kids who are equally busy, there is just no time to bake.
I’m scared. There are two boys who rely solely on me to eat, sleep with a roof over their head, and have the ability to see a doctor when they are ill or injured. But like the curve ball of my husband’s death, the job elimination curve ball pitch was thrown. I could not stop either curve ball. So once again, I have two choices: pivot or accept defeat.
How would you like to wake up tomorrow and not have your spouse lying next to you…ever again? How would you like to wake up tomorrow and not hear your child laugh…ever again? How would you like to wake up tomorrow and not have your Mom or Dad to call and ask a question…ever again? How would you like your kids to wake up tomorrow…
If I had not met my late husband, Gordie, in San Francisco in 1996, I would not have married him in 2001. If I had not married him in 2001, I would not have been widowed in 2012. If I had not been widowed in 2012, I would likely still be married. If I were still married, I would not have spent the past seven Christmases as a solo parent. If I were not a widow, I would have lots of help with everything Christmas.
My Mom died last month. Unexpectedly. Once again, I have been stunned and devastated by death. But this time my Mom is not here to help me.
My oldest son started high school this week and his Dad was not here to guide him through it. My sons and I have learned to live without Gordie but it’s times like these where we are reminded of the severe injustice that was forced upon us. It is times like these where we fall a few steps backward in our journey through grief. It is times like these where life is a little tougher for us. It is times like these where I am once again pissed at God. It’s times like these where I need to run it out, or right now while I am nursing a running injury, swim it out.
Last week I spent a glorious six days in a place that makes me happier than any other place on Earth. This place is a small Idaho town nestled in the Payette forest with a lake surrounded by mountains. Magical McCall.
Several days later, it hit me. I have my own Come Back story. My sons have their own Come Back story. Every Widow has her own Come Back story. Our stories are not as great as Jesus’ Come Back story but they are pretty damn impressive.
Ironically, it was a quote from one of our favorite movies, The Shawshank Redemption, that compelled me to get my shit together and get on with things. Get busy living or get busy dying.
