How can anything ever be "fine" again?

My email to him is in black, with his response in green...

Abouna, my apologies for pressing the "send" button yesterday. I really didn't need to do that.

There is no need to apologize. If you’re still doing it two years from now we can talk about it.

I'm really "fine" for the most part. As long as I can just look at the task right in front of me, I'm okay. I can do all the day-to-day things, because that's what I do. It's when I start looking ahead that I start to fall apart. I can't bear to see all those tomorrows stretched out in front of me and not see Nick in any of them. That's when I start weeping all over again. Or when I realize that I will never again hear Stephen joyfully shout, "Daddy! Daddy!" and run to the top of the stairs to greet him at the end of the day. What a terrible loss!

Try your best to live in and for the moment. Give some thought to how many things you may have lost sleep over concerning your future with Nick. The virtue of hope is about what God may have beyond our present imagining.

And I can't begin to tell you how incredibly hard it was to be in church on Sunday: to see the men in black in the choir, and not see Nick; to hear the voices singing and not hear his; to see the deacon serving, and it not be him, and it's never going to be him. How can I be in that space and not think about him and not miss him and not ache and break all over again?

Did I say I was fine? I'm not, but you know that. I guess part of what's so unreal is that the day-to-day stuff is.All the material pieces of my life are set ... [snip] ... All these little pieces --- which aren't so little --- are in place, AND I have a tremendous community supporting me. So looking at the big picture, everything is "fine," the boys and I will be "fine."

Please reread that paragraph and think of the alternatives. I often observed that financial security somewhat lightens the grief process. Small consolation but not insignificant.

But there's just this one problem... this one huge gaping hole torn in the fabric of my existence.... how can anything possibly ever be "fine" again?

HOPE.

It will be; I know it. I just can't imagine it, I can't picture it.

HOPE is beyond what we can imagine. If I can imagine it then it is an expectation and not hope.

Because I can't picture my life without Nick in it. Because he IS in it. Always and forever unto ages of ages. Amen.

YES.

I begin to understand the scripture read at our wedding --- love is stronger than death --- and I wonder why the West has that ridiculous line in the wedding vow, "until death do us part." Because he is every bit as much a part of me now as he ever was. And that's when I can take a deep breath and know that I really will be alright. Some day. And always and forever.

YES and NO. Yes, Nick will always be part of your life but, in fact, death does PART us from one another and that is why the hurt is there.

You and Nick fulfilled all three promises you made on the day of your wedding.

• You came freely and without reservation.
• You loved and love one another for the rest of your lives.
• You accepted children and are raising them in the Gospel way.

You did not do two and three in the way you expected almost twelve years ago.

Enough for today’s homily.

Late-night sobbing

Fr. Andrew presided at our wedding; he was our spiritual director for 12 years and continues to be mine; he baptized our first son; he preached at Nick's ordination to the diaconate; he never expected to be preaching at Nick's funeral. I am adding some of our correspondence to this blog, because those emails were my journal before I found the YWBB.


August 22, 2004

Fr. Andrew,

It seems so wrong not to be in touch with you. I have to write to you even though I have nothing to say. Rather, there are no words for what I have to say.

I trust you understand.

I understand completely and have been thinking of you today.

I've been thinking that by now the house is probably empty of vistor-helpers and the new pain is setting in.

Do not hesitate to do just what you did here.

I too am at a loss for words but keep you in thought and prayer.

Abouna Andrew

August 23, 2004

Okay.

It's late at night, and I've been sobbing for 20 minutes and I hear everyone's voices telling me to call them anytime, "really I mean it, day or night." But why call when I have nothing to say and crying into the phone really doesn't cut it? And whom should I call? My family would feel bad because they're so far away and can't help me. And local friends would volunteer or even insist on coming over, and then what? The tears are exhausted and there's nothing left but apologies for calling at this ridiculous hour.

I guess that's the good thing about email... I know I'm not waking you up just to tell you I'm miserable.

Terrible news

I sent this email to a few friends; brief and to the point, but it's all I was capable of doing at the time. I had kept a core list of intimates informed of what was going on early in the previous week. My good friend PMAS took over when Nick entered the coma.

I can hardly believe I am writing this note.

Nick was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor last Sunday, August 1st. He died last night, August 8th, shortly after 9 pm.

I thought you would want to know... I covet your prayers for our two beautiful boys.