It was our first holiday after Dan died. We were only two weeks into the grief and still deep in its fog. But since it was the Fourth of July, the kids and I packed up and headed to the beach with my parents in sync with our normal tradition.
Dan and I had years of memories on this beach. In high school, we would make the hour-and-a-half drive once a week on Dan’s day off with a group of friends, surf boards piled on racks and bag lunches packed in the car. In the summers, his family camped at the state park; my family rented a condominium.
One time, just a couple years out of high school ourselves, we organized a beach day trip for our church youth. Parents showed up to drop kids early one Saturday and discovered Dan and I were the sole chaperones. We had thought nothing of it until we saw a few concerned dads. But after they talked with Dan, he was allowed to drive a church busload of youth to the beach. 🙂 We had shenanigans only from our own two younger brothers and we did make it back safely with all of the kids.
Any other day, I would have breathed in the beauty and familiar memories of this beach. But this first holiday was too full of Dan’s gaping absence.
I watched as my older kids surfed, drifted and walked back up the beach together carrying surf boards and boogie boards. My two little ones dug in the sand, jumped over the shore breakers and ran back and forth from the water to the sand with buckets and bait nets.
Man, I missed watching Dan in the water with his kids, throwing his cast net or catching Annalise up in the waves. I missed him as we lugged chairs and boards and towels and toys down to the beach and back up. I missed his buoyant conversation around the table. And after a long day in the sun, as kids fell asleep in the backseat, I missed him terribly as I found myself for the first time driving all of us home that evening.
In the quietness of the car ride home, I battled thoughts about life as it had been and life as it now was.
My mind went to the why of Dan’s death. I did trust God’s sovereignty, but I couldn’t avoid the paradox of Dan’s early death. Why did such a good man, such a great dad, so committed to his family, so responsible, so helpful to his aging mom, so enthralled with his work, die so young?
As these thoughts turned in my mind, I realized that if I was going to ask God why, I would have to ask the question fully and fairly. And that led to other why’s.
Why had we been so blessed – my children and me — to be born in one of the most free and prosperous countries of the world?
Why was I so blessed to be born into a family who raised me with love and security?
Why was I so privileged to have a safe, heated and cooled home with more square footage than most families around the globe?
When many around the world, even some in my own city, would go to sleep aching with hunger, why were we blessed with a pantry full of fresh, safe, good food? And clean indoor water in such unlimited supply that I could use it as liberally in a hot shower as I could for my grass?
My closets were full of so many clothes and shoes and things that I kept a give-away box that was regularly filled and emptied through the year.
Why was I blessed with healthy pregnancies and seven amazing children that filled my life with laughter, excitement, learning, love?
The list could go on and include education, books, museums, music, friends and the freedom to pursue happiness and enrichment in life.
Yes, Dan died young. And it hurts to the core. But if I’m going to ask God why, I have to ask it fairly.
And when I look at that question — Why me? Why us? – it is met with a hundred reasons to be thankful.
Yes, life can hurt. The hard times and the pain can be very real and are especially hard during the holidays. But, there are always so many reasons to be thankful.
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Precious memories, Lisa. And you are so right about the “whys.” A friend whose 3 yr. old died once said that she had come to the place of asking, “Why NOT me?” Very interesting.
Have a blessed holiday of thankfulness!
Chelsea, your friend’s perspective helps usher in that peace that passes understanding for sure.
Tears in my eyes….the whys are certainly there. Your answers are so honest. Love you and your family! Ruth
Thank you Ruth. Xoxo to you as well and Happy Thanksgiving!
Lisa, I appreciate your perspective on WHY. So often we take for granted the many blessings we receive daily and abundantly. Then we don’t understand hurt or tragedy. How did you get so wise so young?
Blessings to you and your children.
Oh, Ms. Sara Wood, if only I’d been wiser much younger! But God takes the hard things and reveals Himself in them. So good to hear from you!
So beautiful. Thank you for sharing your journey with us.
Thank *you* friend, for your encouragement always.
I remember that 4th. I knew that you were sad inside, but you didn’t let the world see it.
And the kids enjoyed keeping that tradition so much. xoxo
Thank you so much for this. And may God bless you as you continue on, learning to be thankful every day again despite your loss.
Thank you Annie Kate!
It’s good to be reminded to look at both sides of the story, both sides of why. I am grateful, and we are blessed, but I find myself asking why a lot.
I’m new at this. Steven has been gone five months, and I feel his absence everywhere. I took the children on a seven hour road trip earlier this month. No Steven to load the van. No Steven to do the driving and pump the fuel. No Steven to talk away the hours with. No Steven to take the children hiking along the creek. No Steven to prop up my feet with and have tea while the children played. No datenight takeout from the local eatery. My Steven was like your Dan, fully involved in his family and loving it, and his passing has left a huge hole in our lives.
Thanksgiving is especially difficult for our family. Not only is this our first Thanksgiving without Steven, but he was diagnosed two days after Thanksgiving in 2012. Some of the children even suggested skipping Thanksgiving and pretending it was a regular day. We’re not skipping it, but it’s a very hard time.
Thank you for the post, I really needed it.
Melinda, my heart aches for you just reading your words. You and your children are in the thick of grief and there is no shortcut through it. You and your children will need much grace with each other as you go through every first and as everyone processes the grief and heals. I am sending you a virtual hug and encouragement as you now as a single mom help your family continue with the traditions that feel right and even begin new traditions that heal and bring you together. Your Steven sounds like he was an amazing husband and father. While that hole will never be filled this side of heaven, God is good to bring some healing.