Dear God,
Has it been two years already? Two years since I held my wife’s
cold body? Two years since I watched the morticians carry her down the front
stairs? It’s hard to believe.
As I have walked the path of a widower with You I have
consciously chosen a middle path between two different forks in the road.
Fork in the path #1: To honor Shannon’s memory, I need to
hold closely to things that were important to her.
Sometimes people, after a loss, attempt to keep life the
same. The deceased’s clothes hang in the closet. The decorations on the walls
reflect the deceased’s decorating. Things that were important to the deceased
remain important to the one left behind.
God, you know I have not chosen this fork.
Someone told me last week, “Your life has really changed.” A
simple list reveals the truth of that!
Today I call Danielle Reuss my wife. After I got to know
Danielle I knew that we would have a very happy life together. I now affectionately
refer to Shannon as my ‘late wife.’
I sold our home in Eyota and moved to Rochester. I left a
lot of memories behind, and I admit it was tough walking through the place for
the last time, yet a new life with a new wife required a new start, including a
new home. I love our new place.
As I cleaned out our home in Eyota, many things which held
memory went away, either given as gifts to others or donated to charity.
I have made the decision to sell Shannon’s business and am
in the process of negotiating to get that done. Shannon had a passion for
Treefrog Treasures. While I enjoyed it, the passion was not there. After two
years of owning it without her, the time has come to let others take over and
to step away. For years the business took a significant amount of time to
oversee (even with three full time employees). Soon I will have more free time.
I look forward to that.
New life has come, and I’m enjoying myself immensely. I’m on
a middle fork, which means there is one on the other side.
Fork in the path #2: To shield myself from pain, I avoid
thinking about Shannon
Sometimes people, after a loss, try to ‘move on’ and live
life as if the deceased never existed. They avoid talking about the deceased,
put away pictures of the deceased, and do whatever they can not to remember.
God, you know I have not chosen this fork.
When my son Ben and I talk we often share memories of things
Shannon has done. She comes up in conversation on a somewhat regular basis.
After 22 years of marriage, I have a font of fun stories to tell!
Shannon’s ashes rest on a shelf in my home next to our
wedding photo. The day will come when they are buried with her mother, but for
now they remain here. A few decorations from our life together grace our new
house. I have visible reminders around me of my life with Shannon.
Worship songs still bring tears. God, just this past Sunday
the song kept returning to ‘Holy Holy Holy,’ the words from Revelation on the
lips of the hosts of heaven singing Your praises. Shannon now sings with that
host. I choked up trying to join in the singing.
Shannon’s family remains my family. Her folks remain my
in-laws. We have forged years of relationship. They understand that my life has
changed. They remain a part of that life.
My personal journey has kept me on a path between these two
different forks. I deeply remember Shannon while living a new life. I have
found it possible and healthy to live in this middle space. God, thank you for
leading me on this journey.
