Last Friday we went to the beach for the weekend. All of us. The girls and their families, Jordan (Elisa had to work), Jesse and his girlfriend, also an Emily, and Steve and I. It was our first family retreat without Tom and oh, the missing crept in. I missed him as I packed. I missed the chaos that seemed to follow Tom wherever he went. The chaos that drove us all nuts but this weekend we missed so much. I could picture him sprawled out on the floor acting as a grand-baby jungle gym. I missed his infectious laughter. I was doing pretty well until I caught a glimpse of Jesse in the hot tub and at that moment he was the spittin image of his dad. It was surreal. I tried not to cry - never a wise decision for me as it almost always leads to a panic attack, which it did. When I retired to my room I started shaking uncontrollably - my pre-panic attack warning signal. Steve knows the signs and wrapped his arms around me and let me pour out my grief. My fears of not knowing who I am or how I fit into this family of mine. My grief over the fact that my life has not gone at all as I had planned. Tom and I were a team. This was supposed to be our team. These were supposed to be OUR golden years where we basked in the joy of our grandchildren. Life is just so unfair sometimes. He so would have loved those babies.
As for me I am often left to wonder who I am any more. Being these kids mom and Tom's wife was who I was. I never desired more. I was very content in that role and now everything has changed. They don't need me in the same way anymore and I am no longer Tom's wife. I was very thankful Steve came because I think my feeling of being lost in this crowd of mine would have been so much worse had I not brought this man who gives me hope that God is not done writing my story. Hope that God will give me new dreams in place of the ones that will never come true. Hope that there is love after loss even when it does not make the loss any less of a loss. I grieve the life I dreamed of. I grieve the lack of children in my home. I grieve getting old as Oma and Opa. Yet, I look forward to what God has in store with hopeful anticipation. He is not done writing my story and so far I like the way this story begins. There are days when I can't wait to turn the next page but still many days when I long for the last chapter to be just a little bit longer. Days when I long for the ending I thought I was going to have. Days when it feels like yesterday and when it feels like life is just so not fair.
God is a good God who is one step ahead of us all the time. He knows the plans He has for us. He plans to give us a hope and a future, even when it may feel like all your dreams have died. He is a dreamweaver. The ultimate imagineer. Oh, Walt Disney would have loved what God could dream up!
