I am not a morbid person, but I am at present acutely aware of a multitude of widows around me in these past few days. I've been a widow for nine days and it is still so surreal. My husband of 34 years died suddenly after a few days of suffering flu like symptoms followed by what I think was a massive coronary. I still have such vivid images in my mind of him slumping over on the sofa, of myself dragging him to the ground and performing chest compressions for 30 minutes while I waited for the EMT's to arrive. I remember calling 911 and yelling at the operator my address and the details of my situation. She directed me as calmly as she could and I did what she told me. I'm pretty sure my husband was gone immediately, but I wasn't going to sit and do nothing. I remember screaming at my husband, "You will live and not die and declare the works of the Lord." I used everything in my spiritual and physical arsenal to help him, but he saw the light and was gone.
I've talked to so many people that my husband ministered to throughout the southwest. Each person had a story to tell. They shared recollections of his about his earlier trip to heaven. In 1994 he had been electrocuted at a television transmitter building. With 19,660 volts and 600 amps of power coursing through his body, he was "cooked" in a matter of moments. I too remember his retelling of that fateful day. I also remember the days, weeks, months and years that followed his experience. He had to overcome many horrific symptoms in body after becoming a human conductor. When ministry would get to be too much, or when I felt myself losing faith I would ask him to retell the story. I lost count how many times he shared it with me. I always felt revived after he shared it. I fear now that I may have helped him "cross over" early by insisting he recount his experience. He mentioned heaven a lot in the past couple months. He also mentioned how hard it was to stay here. After he grew so ill I think he just gave up. He had said repeatedly, "If I see the light again, I will not come back."
Here I am left with all the responsibilities of ministry, a farm and home life without a man. I try not to be too occupied with all the pressures and work hard to hear God give me simple instructions. I take things slowly and prioritize constantly. I also lean hard on friends and family to get through the hardest of times. I have friends calling, visiting, messaging and writing. We have always been givers and God is sending a harvest of help as I focus on hearing and obeying Him in place of my lover of 34 years.
I'm not alone in my mourning. Our daughter and grandchildren are going through a kind of hell of their own. They are in shock as they remember a vital, strong man who took them to Disneyland in June and then spent a week playing with them the last week in August. We also have hundreds of friends and family members who are faced with their own mortality when they consider Jeff's strength and realize that at his end he was as frail as any human and just a man.
After the loss of our son 32 years ago I have some experience in mourning. I have never lost half of myself before so this is a whole new ball of nasty wax. I don't allow myself to fall over into depression, but I do allow myself to cry until my eyes hurt they are so swollen. When I sense it's time I face my husband's things and slowly sort through them as I distribute or throw them away. It's weird, but I almost feel guilty cleaning out his things. He doesn't need them, but they were his and we always honored each others' stuff and personal space. I've put a favorite picture of the two of us down where I am forced to see it. We were supposed to go to Fredericksburg, Texas for Octoberfest and that never happened. In the framed picture we are both wearing German costumes; me in my dirndl and and he in his lederhosen. It was taken by a kind stranger when we were in Fredericksburg last year.
I'm going to live, but I have much to go through in the days ahead. I'm embracing the sorrow that comes as I'm able. I talk to everyone pretty honestly. I'm a private person when it comes to the really hard parts of the mourning process. I spent my second night as a widow home alone. At first I was terrified, but I used the solitude to wail and expel sorrow like I've never seen or experienced before. I may do it again, but it was good to do it earlier. Otherwise I doubt I could have conducted his funeral.
I also know that when this is over and the worst of the suffering is done I will comfort other women who find themselves suddenly or not so suddenly alone. That's just how God works with me.
For now I blog. I have no idea who will read this or how it will impact the readers. I write for myself, but know it could very well get someone through a similar situation. God will see me through this all one step at a time. He's just that present for me and faithful to me. He is my husband now and He is doing an awesome job. I've seen many miracles in the midst of the sorrow and one day I shall add the list of them to this blog.
I'm so thankful I can express myself here and feel lightened in doing so.
Blessings as you read.
Cerise Welter
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