Anniversaries

I think I usually think of really good things associated with anniversaries: weddings, birthdays, years with a job or at a church or anniversary of meeting a great friend. But there are other anniversaries that are painful and do not cause pictures of good things or happy times. Yesterday was one of the latter kind of anniversary. It was the anniversary of Garrett's death. Three years ago, the girls and I journeyed through one of the toughest times of our lives, thus far. I want to share the story of this day and it may be too much for some. I share this because this is apart of my grieving process.

January 9th in very beginnings of 2008, I went to Memorial Hospital very early in the morning. The night before, I didn't leave the hospital till very late and I knew something was different that night. I talked on the phone with one of closest girl friends when I got home that night till very late. Something in me told me my life was about to change and though I knew what that change was, I certainly was not prepared. Around 5:30 in the morning, Garrett's nurse called to inform me that he was being taken to the ICU and I needed to get to the hospital as fast as I could. The next events happened in less than an hour but seemed as though I could not move fast enough (though when I look back I know everything was whirling faster than usual).

As soon as I got off the phone with the nurse, I called my dad and asked if I could bring the girls to he and mom. I asked if they could get them ready for school, feed them breakfast and take them to school. Of course, he said yes. While making this call, I was getting dressed, grabbing my things, grabbing the girls backpacks and finding my keys. I woke the girls up and shoved them out the door with uniforms in hand and drove over to my parents. My dad was waiting for them and met me at my car to grab everything. I headed straight to the hospital (and actually didn't speed on the way) and ran to the ICU (with which I was all too familiar).  I was the first to arrive and had a few quiet moments with him before the world started to spin again. By 6:30 or soon after, his parents arrived and we talked with the doctor briefly. We then went to different areas and started making phone calls to friends, family, co-worker and pastors.

By mid morning, his small ICU room was filled with loved ones: some of my closest friends, some of his closest friends, family, pastors, co-workers. Then the doctor gave us the news I knew was coming but almost couldn't handle when I received it. It was time to let him go, shut off the machines, turn on the morphine and say goodbye. We asked how long and could it wait till his sister flew in from New York. The answer was soon and no we shouldn't wait too long. We trusted this doctor. He had been on the case for 13 months. He was on everyone's speed dial. So we decided to just take a little time to let us say goodbye. Each of us had a private moment with him and some family and friends that where too far away called to talk to him on the phone. He was not able to respond but we were told that he was capable of understanding us.

I decided to called my parents and ask them to pick up the girls from school and bring them to their house. When they got there, they called the hospital and we put the phone to Garrett's ear. The girls didn't know what was happening or know that they were saying goodbye, but I knew they needed to say one more nice thing to their daddy. Then my dad hurried off to the hospital to be with me.

When the last of the friends and family arrived, we let the doctors and nurses come in to shut off the machines. One of the nurses that cared for Garrett the most while he was in the ICU came in on her day off to be the one there for us. She assisted the doctor and stayed with us the entire time.

This is a little graphic for some...so you may want to skip this paragraph. The next 45 minutes, the whole family quietly sat in Garrett's room. Each breath he took was labored. Each breath came further from the next. In the last minutes of life, every breath surprised us. As the breaths got further apart, we expected them to stop but another would come and then another. This seemed to go on forever. Then they stopped. The nurse put a scope to his chest and called his time of death. I found myself weeping and laying with him. I listened for his heart beat, but there wasn't one. I weep for what seemed like hours. All I could think was the moment I leave this room, my life will be forever changed. I laid there and cried and prayed. I couldn't figure out what was happening. It didn't seem real. I knew it was coming the night before. I knew it was coming the hours before and yet I laid in his bed completely confused. I couldn't believe what was happening. I felt like the tears would never stopped. I sobbed and wept and cried and blubbered. Nothing around me seemed to matter.

Later I found out that my friends and family had gathered around me in a semi-circle. They all stood behind me while I grieved. As time went on, I was able to quiet my tears for a moment. Then I just felt empty as though I had wept all I had out onto that bed that day. I sat and could not move. More friends and family stopped in to see us. I just kept sitting there on his bed. After a while, I moved to a chair at his bedside. My friends were bustling around me getting me something to eat, a drink and making arrangements with hospital and funeral home. I just sat. I didn't want to leave the room.

When I finally left the room, I knew what was coming next. I was going to my parent's house to tell the girls. I had to prepare myself for this and decided to drive myself home. We had to load all of Garrett's things into my car. Though he had only been in the hospital two weeks this time, there seemed to be a lot of things. We got them loaded and I refused my friends' suggestion to let someone drive me home. I needed a moment. I got into my car, got on the highway and screamed at God, "Why, why, why, WHY!?!?!?"

Then I was sitting in front of my parent's house. My parent's, Garrett's parents and two of my pastors came to be there with me as I told the girls. All I remember saying is, "Daddy died today." The next thing I knew was our baby girl let out a cry that has forever pieced itself to my memory. I had two little girls on my lap crying like had the hours before. They cried for what seemed like forever. Then I got them into PJs and climbed into my parent's big guest bed with them till they fell asleep.

The days to follow are a blur though certain moments stick out. But the day that Garrett died seems just as clear as the day itself. The only thing I really do know for sure about grief is that is doesn't ever go away. Some may say it gets easier. I'm not sure that's true. I think it just get further away and consumes less time. But every anniversary, I relive that day. Not all the memories of that day are "bad" in fact many are really good memories. They are just hard memories. Memories I will always have. Memories the girls will always have. Some times we talk about it like it's a story being told, almost as if it happened to someone else. Some days we relive a moment and find ourselves standing in our room crying for what seems like no reason.

Today I write this as a memory that seems like it happened yesterday. My heart actually hurts and there is a lump in my throat of pain and grief. But I know that Garrett is loved in heaven and that helps. I know that God called many to care for me as a widow and for my girls. I know that many have forgotten and that's okay. I know that many have not forgotten. I may look like I have moved on, but I'm not sure that's accurate. I have moved forward...not moved on. The difference may be small but to me, I know what the difference is. I still grieve. I still carry Garrett in my heart every day. I still love him very much. I still miss the life we had together. I still keep him alive for the girls. But yes, I love others and did not stop living because Garrett died. If anything, he taught me how to love and how to let him go. I didn't want to and I don't think he wanted to leave but that was God's plan for us. I know that this time next year I will probably be hurting again and I'm okay with that. Not everything God has planned for me is easy or good but His plan is perfect. I am blessed today because of all of it...and that's enough for me right now.