Many have asked us how we are doing. Of course, that question is a big one to answer, but overall, we’re doing ok, I would say. Certainly, there are some times that are harder than others, but this race is more of a marathon than just a sprint. Seeing God in this is the greatest comfort. Without Him, there would be no strength or foundation on which to fall back on. There would be no purpose, no hope, no “better place” called heaven for her to be in now, and no future in which we will see Hannah again. Yes, things would be hopeless without God in our lives. The support and encouragement of others is also a blessing. As much as we need our personal space right now. It does help to know that we are not alone in this. The kind words, strong prayers, and empathy that we have received, literally, from around the world, have been an amazing outpouring of love on us, and we are extremely humbled. When we hear that orphans are praying for us in the Central African Republic, we really realize how small we are!
As we go through this, we see both the trial and the responsibility that we have been given. With the story in news publication nationwide, and then with Facebook and the “internet” taking it worldwide, we can clearly see that our actions and reactions certainly do matter, but, then again, they always have. Our actions and reactions certainly affect us both in our outlook and disposition, but these things also have a great impact on others who are watching, and someone is always watching. Whether a spouse, child, friend, family, coworker, etc. someone is always watching us, and there will be an effect on their lives because of us.
As I consider how we handle this, I am reminded first and foremost, and this may seem at first glance to be a disclaimer, that each situation is different. There is a myriad of things that change with each individual and their circumstances. The person themself is different, relationships are different, the situations are different, the circumstances surrounding those situations are different, and the greatest difference is, the plan of God. If I, in full honesty, cannot tell you where God is taking us or where this is going in my own life, how could I possibly be able to tell someone else exactly what they “should be doing”. I have laughed, in days past, at the idea that, “The easiest decisions to make are someone else’s.” I have learned and try to always keep in mind that things are not always as simple when you walk in someone else’s shoes. I do try to offer advice to those in need who are searching and asking for it, but it would be unwise of me to force my opinion on someone else because I know, “I am right”. As I mentioned in a past post, the best counselors are the best listeners. The Bible puts it this way, “Be quick to hear, but slow to speak” (James 1:19).
So, with that “disclaimer” in place, I will say that the approach we are taking in dealing with the memories and emotions related to this loss is first, SLOW. We are not rushing into anything. One of the first things that we did do, was to get each of us a small, simple “family ring” from the kiosk in the mall. We began with family unity. We circled the wagons, drew in close together, and regrouped and reunited, as a family. The ring has a blue band in the center, which signifies, to us, the memory of the loss of Hannah, because blue was her favorite color. So, we are making a memory and a memorial at this point as we begin to move forward together, as a family. The boys are really proud to have the rings and it, although simple and inexpensive, has already become priceless. After that we initially kept busy. There are a lot of things to do as one goes through this process. Things like opening and reading cards, reading Facebook comments, text, and voice messages, catching up on laundry, and general clean up. Those things are necessary and can also be a tool to help distract us from the overwhelming emotions of our loss. By no means are they a substitute for healthy grieving, but they can help us from dropping, “too low”.
Perhaps I will tell a story at this point. When I was growing up, my parents, my brother and I would go down to Florida and visit my grandparents as they spent the winter up on the Florida panhandle. We would leave the cold darkness of Wisconsin in February, and trade it for the Florida sun. This has continued on, from time to time, with our family, and it’s always a highlight of our lives. So anyway, one year, shortly after arriving, my brother and I decided that we would go swimming in the pool. Yes, there is an “ocean” right there, but we Midwesterners all “know” that there are sharks just under the surface, waiting to eat us! LOL! Anyway, the sun was warm and even though the temperature was likely in the low sixties, that was like eighty degrees warmer than where we came from the day before. So, I, having grown up with a pool and being a good swimmer, jumped into the deep end. I will say, the fact that we were the only two at the pool could have been a red flag, but again maybe we were not as spoiled as the rest of the snowbirds. Anyway, I jumped into the deep end of the pool and immediately was greeted by “ice water” in what was apparently an unheated pool. As I hit the water, every part of my body tightened up immediately. My brother asked, from the edge of the pool, how the water was, and I could barely muster the strength to say c-c-c-c cold d-d-d. (Not sure how to stutter in print, but I’m sure this is close). Although I was a strong swimmer normally, the cold water made it extremely difficult to even muster a pathetic dog paddle as I fought for my life on the way to the nearest ladder. We then decided that maybe the hot tub was a better idea, and we were right.
I remember this story because here I am in a situation that seems deep and cold, to the point at which it feels that life itself could be sucked away by the void left from Hannah’s passing. So, I will equate our current approach to how, perhaps, I should have entered the cold water. We do it slowly. With Hannah having gone off to college, we have somewhat become used to her physical absence, and that’s a starting point. We initially closed the door to her room, but we did leave the pictures and other decorations relating to her out in their normal spots. Once we were comfortable with those, we opened the door to her room and left it open. As you perhaps can see, we are not jumping headfirst into this. It’s a slow, somewhat methodical, acclimation to the situation. When there is pain, we face it, embrace it, and work through it. If it feels too overwhelming, we step back, compose ourselves, and revisit it later. We thought that the funeral was an incredible testament to our daughter and to the Lord. I do want to watch it, and I will someday, but when I started watching it yesterday, the slideshow at the beginning was quickly getting to be too much, so we turned it off, for now. We don’t discard things like this that bring back the pain, but neither do we jump headlong into them. Just like getting into cold water, slow and methodical, allowing time to accept and acclimate is the approach that we are taking. So, all in all, we are doing ok. We see the Lord in this, we trust Him, we are encouraged by all the support that we receive, and we are slowly acclimating ourselves to this situation and doing it not just as individuals, but as a strong family. Throughout the years, we have prioritized both our marriage and our family over other things, such as jobs, money, hobbies, or ambitions, and we believe those “sacrifices” then, are paying dividends now. Like Hannah, live intentionally, evaluate things, and be willing to change if necessary. Always: Do right, breathe, take small steps, and keep moving forward.
We are blessed
Hannah Helps 