Our Story

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Part Seven: The Aftermath.

*This is the final installment in this particular piece of our story. Thanks for reading, for encouraging. Now you know a little more about me, about our Army life, about the beginning. Ever and always, my prayer is that you see grace here.* . . . My darkest days were in the aftermath of her funeral. Highlighted in my beat-up leather study Bible is Psalm 69:1-3, and scribbled by it is the date, Feb. 26, 2006. “Save me, O God! For...

Part Six: The Funeral.

. . . I tried to email Husband, willed him to call so I could be the one to break the news. Since telepathy is not my strong suit, he did not receive the message, and read about her death on the front page of the Army Times that someone else was reading in the chow hall. After the initial shock, I became so angry. Still fearful, and now furious. I indignantly reminded the Lord of our deal. I had made...

Part Five: The Swallowing Up

*These are events occurring in January of 2006.* . . . In a split second, the fear ate me alive.  It started with a news story and well meaning phone calls. News of a helicopter crash travels fast in our community and I had seen it on the news. A few key details . . . type of aircraft, location, et cetera helps in narrowing down quickly who could be involved. I saw the news photos of one crumpled Blackhawk...

Part Four: Grace in the Midst of Grief.

. . . The details from this point forward are unimportant.  I received the drugs, if only to shut me up. I was in a Dilaudid-induced haze for much of the day. I have vague memories of Army Wife moving in and out of view, on the phone with Husband, keeping him apprised of the situation, holding my hand, helping me to understand the risks of surgery, helping me choose surgery. Of her being the hands and feet of Christ....

Part Three: Baby H.

*Again, just a reminder these events occurred in November, 2005.* We were banner-making on a Saturday afternoon. I had a new theater friend – you know, the one other person in twenty that loves community theater and will go see every  tortured production with no arm twisting required – and we were heading to the Cape Fear production of Steel Magnolias. I scribbled love notes to Husband from Baby H all over the Christmas banner we were sending to the...

Part Two: The Storm Gathering.

Did I not mention I was pregnant when he left? Six weeks pregnant with Baby H. Sometimes, when I remember those moments, I am so desperate to stop time, or to slow it down so much that it moves in little, sparkly, wavy drips. Recorded in flashes of colors. Music notes. Quiet times. I think I feel like maybe if I had dug my heels in, put my back to it, my arms out, I could have kept this wave...

Part One: The First Goodbye

*In case I haven’t made it clear, this is primarily a recounting of events that took place in 2005-2006. This is not happening right now.* We have a death to-do list. I mean, who doesn’t, right? Husband’s initial interment request was that I fly his ashes in a Blackhawk over the Dallas Cowboys stadium and scatter them at halftime during the annual Cowboys-Redskins grudge match football game. No. Not going to happen. Gross on so many levels. In addition, illegal?...

Here Goes . . . The prologue

I’m leaping off a cliff here. When I press publish on this, I can’t go back. And I don’t want to, but that doesn’t erase how scary it is to bare my soul in a public space, to use it for His glory, not mine, desperate to be upside down, to take away my desire to be made much of. I want to tell you our story. What I really want to tell you about is grief, grace, and hope....