When OMG is the Proper Response (Part 2 of 2)

When OMG is the Proper Response (Part 2 of 2)


Morning of May 10th, 2018:

One year ago today, I began the journey at the kitchen table. 

So desperate to breathe. So hurt I thought I couldn’t go on another moment, let alone a day, or a month, or a year. 

I think of the rustling leaves I picked up at the lack of my landscaper. I write the email of cancellation, slightly bolder than I’ve ever felt possible (Yes, it was riddled with appreciation as I can’t seem to criticize without at least a slight uplifting first.).

The pile is now my responsibility. I am good with that. 

Because one year later I’ve become stronger. 

Later that night:

OMG! OMG! How else do I respond when so awestruck I can’t think of a better word-combination. 

Oh my God!

Explaining may be more challenging though. If you remember, sometime before the one-year milestone of Bill’s death I asked God to give me a moment of Bill so special I’d never ask again of a moment, but one to carry me through this life. 

I don’t want to be in limbo.

I want to live. 

So what happens, when news arrives that alters your life, with a moment in complete contrast of the day we received the announcement of the cancer spreading to areas throughout his body as if propelled with cellular jet fuel?

I received one without warning:  A life sentence. One that will give me life until I no longer live. 

That kind of moment. 

Something wonderful happened. Not on the anniversary of his death, but the one year anniversary of my sitting at the kitchen table with God. 


Approximately 8:30 pm: 

I get into my car after being a judge at a latte throw-down competition, feeling good that I actually stepped out and did something out of the ordinary. 

Driving home though, I feel the void try to steal my joy. Oh the evil one has had his days as of late, as if he’s actually throwing darts on the home in order to break down my internal residence from confidence, trust, hope, satisfaction in Jesus. 

So as I go along the road, I see the display on my car showing the song on the radio. At first my thought is on the group, The Police, thinking it odd I didn’t know they sang the song playing since it didn’t sound at all like them. 

Until I realize it wasn’t them, and the song title is stuck on the song, “Every Breath You Take”. Chills rise up. Like a deja vu. I vaguely remember this happening before, somewhere in the calendar year since Bill’s death. 

I don’t remember the details, but this song was stuck in place. It was a moment somewhere in time when the reality of the song didn’t line up with the actual song my ears took in. 

Later, around 9:30pm:

I sit down at the kitchen table, feeling the sadness creep in a bit further, and in the midst, I impulsively ask God for a moment, as I open up months of documented writing, I ask him to bring me to the day when I had the moment with the song and wrote about it. Other than reading every entry of 340 pages, without a clue as it could’ve been anywhere, and could take hours to find. 

Then I do what desperate people do hoping for a sign. I close my eyes and let my finger scroll down the dates on the left side tool bar of my writing software and just click on one and open my eyes. 

More nonchalant in a way though, knowing the likeliness is slim like I’m pulling the lever to the slot machine and all three pics on the screen are going to line up unbeknownst to me.

My finger lands on May 25th as my eyes open. I begin reading, and it doesn’t appear to be anything about a song, but a moment I’d forgotten about all the same on two crazy moments that seemed almost impossible. I titled it, “Against All Odds”.

Evening of May 24th:

Will there be connection after disconnection?

It’s the finality of such union that makes my heart weep. When we reunite not as husband and wife, will you still look fondly at me with such love?  Will you remember our bond? The intimacy? Or, will we be just friends? 

The bigger question being, will I be okay with that?

I know God gave us a glimpse of true intimacy through these relationships here on earth. So I guess I will be ok. Still, it’s hard to look ahead with anticipation when I ache at your absence and long to hold you. 

I listened to your voicemails again today, hanging on your every word. 

Earlier on May 24th:

It’s been a tough day. Going to cash the insurance check was gut wrenching. I miss him that is obvious. 

A friend came over. She wanted to email me but the connection is disabled because cable has been a thorn in my technology side. Anyway, she wants to share something strange: a dream. 

Basically, she dies and enters Heaven. She sees Bill off in the distance. He is looking down at me. His focus on me. I am alone. Heartbroken. He is smiling. 

Later, I wonder why he doesn’t come in an appearance in my dreams. Is this real, her dream? Is this possible that he actually does see me and is somehow involved with me even though we are realms apart? 

Before Bill died, I made him promise me one thing:  If he could actually see me from the other side, to let me know. Somehow. “Ask Jesus to make that happen.” I said.

Is it possible more is going on behind the scenes with people we love who have departed? No, I am not talking about trying to consult the dead and the occult and evil. Just connection. 

So, another friend calls. She can’t get ahold of me through email and decides to call. I am in the midst of wine, which only heightens my despair. When she consoles me while I sit in Bill’s former office. 

I turn my head slightly to the left…

Here on top of a brown iron finial is his Ring!  OMG! 

The one only yesterday I beg God to show me. The one I’ve searched the house numerous times since his departure, only coming up with more organized spaces and no ring. 

Here it is in plain sight. 

She wonders that maybe Bill was involved in finding it. I wonder.

God did say something wonderful was about to happen.

She wonders if people in Heaven, being in Jesus’ presence, Him being all knowing, see more of the big picture and when they look down on earth it is without the element of sorrow? 

And, think about Elijah and Moses and the fact Peter, James and John recognized them, did they because they were both able to see because of Jesus? Maybe the apostles could experience such things because they were in His Presence. I hope so. 

I felt air enter my lungs again, accompanied by the breath of joy and hope in the midst. 

I hope he was part of this and does watch over me with smiling, but even if it is not so, knowing that this all-knowing, all-consuming love of God who cares so much for me, is enough. 

He turned my mourning to joy in an instant. 

I love you Lord. 

I love you Bill.

Can’t wait to see you two together.

Earlier, while driving the touch screen for a radio station was stuck for the entire day on a particular song, and not until the song actually played did it go away…

“Every breath you take, every move you make, I’ll be watching you.” 

Yes if you know anything about this song it is more on a stalker relationship and not a love song, but I think I’m good either way. 

Good night my loves. I snuggle his Pink Floyd t-shirt and drift into a peaceful slumber. 

Oh how He loves us so. 

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