I’m Still Here…

Hey all,

I’m still here in Richmond with my beloved and continue to pray for healing and progress. Progress has come to a halt this week as he has a terrible infection that has affected his good hand and he can’t grasp anything with it. The infection is a pus filled sack on the first knuckle of his right hand and is slowly creeping up his arm. He had to have the hospital ID cut off his wrist today as the swelling is pretty significant. No one seems to know what happened, and with the brain injury he’s dealing with, he can’t really shed any light on what has happened. He’s in terrible pain and it breaks my heart to see him so. With everything else going on, he really doesn’t need this…

Today there was a “gun rally” in Richmond and I stayed as far away from downtown as possible. The media spin on what Virginia is doing is pretty inaccurate as far as the truth of the legislation is written, but no one seems to know how to hold a civil conversation about any type of hot button issue anymore. I am not a gun person, but I honestly have no issue with anyone going through the proper channels to own one of their own. Criminals are always going to find a way to break the law no matter what, and the idea that Gov. Northam is trying to take away anyone’s legally owned guns is spin. Fox News says one thing, MSNBC another, CNN still another… Enough already!!! Common sense gun laws? How about just common sense? Be kind, stop the hate, love your neighbor, and stop all the crap. America really is morally corrupt, be the change this country so desperately needs. Enough about politics.

I’m still here in the same place my heart has lived over the past three months, and I am still broken. The loss of my husband as he was is ever present and I miss hugging him. I miss holding his hand, I miss him driving. I miss the man who I’ve spent my life loving, but I love the man that is. He has the sweetest nature (when he’s not in pain,) he loves me still and we will get through this with each other and our village. I am physically alone here in my room at the Richmond Fisher house, but I am never truly alone. I am loved by my family, my friends, my husband and by my Father. I lean not on my own understanding, because I don’t understand any of this. How is it that the man I love is here, but not? How is it that I can still smile, even with a shattered heart? How is it that I am not bat shit crazy by now? I don’t know the answers, but I do know that I don’t have to know the answers. I have learned over these past three months to take one step at a time. It’s not one day for me, it’s one step. One step is as much as I can handle and one step at a time gets me through the days as well as one day at a time. It’s all the same at the end of the day… I have become more patient in many ways, though I’ve also learned that I have little patience when it comes to things that make no sense. I don’t waste time on that which drags me down, I can’t. I don’t have the mental fortitude for frivolity and bullshit, they serve no purpose. At all.

I’m still here in terms of seeking joy, though I am not as able to find it in every day as I was before my husband’s hospitalization. I look for joy in spite of my pain, it’s a deliberate action. If I fall off the path of seeking joy, I hurt myself more than my life and its trials do. I refuse to give in, and I will not give up. I want to give up at least a hundred times a day, but I will not. I deserve better. I am better. I need to have something good in my life and I am responsible for my joy. No one else is. I flat out refuse to give up. I have been beaten down, rejected, accused of horrible things, tossed out like the most disgusting trash, yet I refuse to give up. Just because other people may treat me like I am less than, it doesn’t make it true. I am a daughter, a mother, a grandmother, a wife, a friend, a neighbor and a woman that still loves with a bruised and battered heart. Those who would seek to malign me would do well to remember that how they treat me (or don’t treat me) is nothing but a reflection of how they feel about themselves. I am not defined by any one other than myself, and my heavenly Father, and because I know this, I am still here.

I’m still here to hopefully encourage even just one person somewhere in this great big world that they matter. I don’t have any answers as to how to make this world a more kind place, I just believe in being the change I wish I could see. I believe in asking if someone needs help. I believe in holding the hand of the person sitting next to me if they need a friend. I believe we are meant to love one another, even when it’s not easy. I believe love means forgiving those that hurt us most. Love doesn’t hurt people, people do that out of pain and hate and anger. Love forgives. I forgive. I move forward against the storms of the past three months and I turn my face to the sun, seeking warmth. I’m still here… and I will be here again tomorrow. Be well, friends. And be the change you want to see, because in that change you will find joy.

selective focus photo of gerbera flower
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Getting Vertical…

Hey World,

So, I’ve started this blog post without a title and hope to come across it somewhere as I type out my heart’s musings. Today was a decent day, the weather here in Richmond, VA was sunny, cool and a bit breezy. I love when the sun shines in the wintertime, it always feels so good to face the sun, close my eyes, and lift my face towards the warmth it gives. I love soaking in the vitamin D. Winter is my least favorite season, I always get more melancholy and these days, melancholy is not what I need to invite into my life. I have enough on board already.

As I’ve written before, I try to not get religious when I write, so if this post seems too religious for you, please forgive me. I have been to three different church services in the 13 days we’ve been in Richmond, and all three have been quite different. The first was on Christmas Eve, the day after we arrived here. There were easily 600 people in the auditorium, every single one of them a stranger. I cried through the entire service as the pastor spoke about “something missing.” For me that something was, and is, my husband. He was lying in a hospital bed across the city, he was my something missing on Christmas Eve. I still raised my hands in worship, because I was moved to do so. Without my faith, I would become a shell of who I am, and having been that shell just a year ago, I don’t want to go back there. Not ever. The second service I went to was the first Sunday we were in Richmond and I went to the hospital chapel. That service was very different for me as I had never been to a chapel service in a hospital. The chaplain focused on the word “yet.” YET in this storm will we believe? YET in this trial will we hide? YET in this time of our life, we will still trust? My answer to these questions is yes, but that yes is not said with ease, confidence or assurance in self. I have lost so much of myself these past nine weeks since the event that has altered so many lives. Today I went to a church on the northside of Richmond and it was a beautiful blend of traditional and contemporary worship styles, and the congregation is a beautifully diverse group of believers. The pastor is from India, is a Princeton educated man and so humble. He spoke about the blessings we are afforded when we come to Christ with an open heart and mind. He spoke about loving all people, being inclusive as a nation and living peacefully. I cried again when the people in front of me prayed for my beloved husband and again on my way back to the hospital as I thought about how thankful I am that someone invited me to attend. In a city where I know not a single soul, I felt welcomed, safe and filled with the Spirit. It was just what I needed. I felt hopeful, and at this point in my life, hope keeps playing hide and seek with me. I will be seeking hope again next week at this same church and listening for the voice that gives me that hope.

We never know what lurks around the corners of our lives and when things happen that have a catastrophic effect, we usually have no idea how to react to said events. My husband’s stroke has changed our lives, and the lives of so many people, right down into the DNA of who we all are. And were. I miss my husband, yet he is still alive. How can I miss him? How can I not is more the question. We were living the life we had long looked forward to, and now that life is gone. We were simply happy in our little house in South Carolina, we had our beloved grandchildren close by, our daughter and son-in-love, friends and a community that we loved. So much has changed, and so many more changes are ahead. I hear you should never ask God “how much more can I take?” and I believe that wholeheartedly. In just two years we have as a couple endured a separation, a reunion, months of therapy both together and individually. We have lost a daughter and grandchildren. We sold a home and relocated to be closer to our youngest daughter and her family. We bought a home that I actually loved, but I know that’s because we left the spirits of hate and discontent behind us when we sold our home in NC. We were so happy in our new home in SC. I found a job I loved while Steve quit his job and dabbled in the retired life. He was going to go back to work not a week after his stroke and we were both looking forward to making plans for our 40th anniversary (2022.) Now we look forward to completely different things, as he can’t remember the plans we had started for going to Alaska, Ireland and England. Not all at the same time, but we were making plans nonetheless. Now my plans are to find an apartment I can afford, feel safe in, and that isn’t too far from the VA Hospital here in Richmond. MY plans. My husband isn’t able to process the information that so many of us take for granted anymore. I am beyond grateful that he is still alive, but he is not the same. He can’t help me make plans, he can’t process the thoughts it takes to make plans and he can’t enjoy the joys those plans would’ve brought. He may be able to some day, and I pray for that healing every day, but reality is what it is and today, at this moment, he is just not able.

I ache for the life I had just 3 months ago and I want it back more than I want to move forward alone. Moving forward alone is not what I want to do, but it is what I will do. I have many people supporting me, so many people I can call and cry with, or rage with, or just talk, but at the end of the day I go to bed alone, and I wake up tomorrow, still alone. I remind myself over and over and over again that I am never really alone; God is with me. Even when I can’t feel Him, hear Him or see Him, He is there. Without this assurance I would be so much more of a basket case than I am currently. I know that the Lord is watching over me, that He is with my husband and that He is with all of those I love. I miss my family so much, and not being near our daughter and her family is beyond painful. I miss my friends. I miss hanging out at our favorite Mexican restaurant and eating esquites, drinking a margarita and just enjoying each other’s company. I want to watch my youngest grandson run to his Poppy with abandon, not hesitate because Poppy is “different.” We have all lost so much. Our daughter has lost her Daddy, the strongest and most loving Dad she could have asked for. I have lost my husband as he was. My protector, provider, and lover. I want to hug my husband again, and feel him hug me back. I haven’t hugged him fully since October 5th, 2019, and I may never be able to feel him hug me like that again. My mother-in-love has lost her baby boy, but I am ever thankful that he did spend a month with her right before this happened. Time is lost, love is forever different and life holds little joy right now.

I pray that someday, and someday very soon, I regain my positivity and my strength to keep moving forward. I know that there is a reason for this, but I can’t see it through my pain. I don’t really try to. Getting vertical each day is about as much a task as I can handle and I find myself battling with my mind on days where I am determined to stay in bed and feel sorry for myself. Feeling sorry for myself is not going to help in the long run, but damn… I’ve run more marathons in the past 9 weeks than the most experienced runner I know. As I learn more about the human brain and what it can do, I am encouraged. Getting vertical happens because of that encouragement and because I still breathe. Some days that’s all we get… I’ll take it. Tomorrow brings joy as the grands and their parents will be in Richmond, so I’m going to work hard to be fully present in the joy and not dwell on the fact that they have to go home to SC. Some is better than none and I will take a few hours with them over zero.

In closing, I hope that my rambling hasn’t gone on too long. I am trying to “shine brightly” as the name of my blog states, but the clouds are dense and heavy right now…

sea dawn nature sky
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