And here we are, the fifth day, the final good bye, the letting go.
Marianne died one year ago today before the sun rose. In the quiet and stillness of morning, she was gone. As beautifully as she came into my life nearly twelve years earlier, she slipped gracefully out of it. There was a good bye, at least I like to think so. I was sleeping when my friend John woke me up. This sleep was different than the nights before. I was sleeping deeply and soundly. All was okay. I knew I was just waiting now and God’s grace and strength amplified in my heart that night. I needed the rest and the strength. Then I heard John’s voice. He told me that the nurse told him to go and get me, that I should come now. I had slept with my shoes on that night anticipating the moment, not with happiness, but with somewhat of a forced readiness. There was a sadness in my heart, but it felt very right, not like before when it was terrorizing me. Walking toward her room, memories played in my head. I could nearly see them with my eyes like they were more that thoughts and memories...meeting her for the first time, her radiant smile as she walked toward me down the aisle, our joy in having kids, etc. I felt like I was walking through scenes in my life past while I walked to the ending in life present. I was walking quickly toward her room while my mind was moving through the memories slowly. It felt as though I was a step behind myself moving a different speeds simultaneously. I arrived at her room. It felt so different now. You could sense the transition, life and death both present. It felt so sacred to me, and so still. I walked to her bedside and bent over to whisper to her, leaning through and around the tubes that had worked to keep her alive. I kissed her cheek. I told her I loved her and thank you.
“Thank you for a life so beautiful, for a love so real. Thank you for giving me so much more than I could have ever imagined.”
I told her how strong I felt because of God’s grace and that I was confident that life would be rich for us still. I mentioned that the girls didn’t really know what was going on, that they had very little idea of what the passed week was like for us. I told her that she was always so much better at talking to the girls in tough times. I was praying that the right words would find a deep place in their hearts so that they would live as fully as we always dreamed and reached for in their lives. I told Marianne that we would be okay. I kissed her cheek again and pushed my hand through her hair. And then moments later, she was gone. I hugged her sister who she loved so much and then walked into the hallway. John came to me, put his arm around me and once again his words found me. He told me that the nurse pointed out a very noticeable, short spike on her heart monitor while I was talking to her. I am not one to read into small details that could easily be attributed to many things or mere coincidence, but it mattered to me. I mattered the world to me. I needed something and for whatever reason, the nurse noticed the change. I could sense God’s activity even in small details that I needed. That was the first time I healed after she died.
It has been very surreal for me to recount our last days. I cannot express the great healing that is settling permanently in my heart. So much of this passed year was defined and centered in loss while straining to look for everything solid and new in our lives. It has been a transition of the greatest kind. One that you cannot make up or beautifully construe. It was the ugliest thing that God made beautiful. Looking back and remembering has only reinforced God’s present grace in my life. It is bittersweet as it should be. I don’t want to give you even the slightest impression that I have been somewhat detached from loss and grief in the anniversary. It has been real and will continue to be in the days lived ahead. What grief has not been is a bottomless sorrow. And I say this in all seriousness, I had so little to do with it. God is present and he is aware in every passing moment of our lives both tragic and triumphant.
So it was, and it is.
_____________________
A book is in the making...a memoir. I am more than halfway complete the first draft of eleven chapters. The past week of posts have been the high points of one chapter in the book. I am beginning to work with an editor and will be meeting several publishers next month to get initial feedback. So much more to come on that in the days ahead.
Again, thank you...deeply.
Marianne died one year ago today before the sun rose. In the quiet and stillness of morning, she was gone. As beautifully as she came into my life nearly twelve years earlier, she slipped gracefully out of it. There was a good bye, at least I like to think so. I was sleeping when my friend John woke me up. This sleep was different than the nights before. I was sleeping deeply and soundly. All was okay. I knew I was just waiting now and God’s grace and strength amplified in my heart that night. I needed the rest and the strength. Then I heard John’s voice. He told me that the nurse told him to go and get me, that I should come now. I had slept with my shoes on that night anticipating the moment, not with happiness, but with somewhat of a forced readiness. There was a sadness in my heart, but it felt very right, not like before when it was terrorizing me. Walking toward her room, memories played in my head. I could nearly see them with my eyes like they were more that thoughts and memories...meeting her for the first time, her radiant smile as she walked toward me down the aisle, our joy in having kids, etc. I felt like I was walking through scenes in my life past while I walked to the ending in life present. I was walking quickly toward her room while my mind was moving through the memories slowly. It felt as though I was a step behind myself moving a different speeds simultaneously. I arrived at her room. It felt so different now. You could sense the transition, life and death both present. It felt so sacred to me, and so still. I walked to her bedside and bent over to whisper to her, leaning through and around the tubes that had worked to keep her alive. I kissed her cheek. I told her I loved her and thank you.
“Thank you for a life so beautiful, for a love so real. Thank you for giving me so much more than I could have ever imagined.”
I told her how strong I felt because of God’s grace and that I was confident that life would be rich for us still. I mentioned that the girls didn’t really know what was going on, that they had very little idea of what the passed week was like for us. I told her that she was always so much better at talking to the girls in tough times. I was praying that the right words would find a deep place in their hearts so that they would live as fully as we always dreamed and reached for in their lives. I told Marianne that we would be okay. I kissed her cheek again and pushed my hand through her hair. And then moments later, she was gone. I hugged her sister who she loved so much and then walked into the hallway. John came to me, put his arm around me and once again his words found me. He told me that the nurse pointed out a very noticeable, short spike on her heart monitor while I was talking to her. I am not one to read into small details that could easily be attributed to many things or mere coincidence, but it mattered to me. I mattered the world to me. I needed something and for whatever reason, the nurse noticed the change. I could sense God’s activity even in small details that I needed. That was the first time I healed after she died.
It has been very surreal for me to recount our last days. I cannot express the great healing that is settling permanently in my heart. So much of this passed year was defined and centered in loss while straining to look for everything solid and new in our lives. It has been a transition of the greatest kind. One that you cannot make up or beautifully construe. It was the ugliest thing that God made beautiful. Looking back and remembering has only reinforced God’s present grace in my life. It is bittersweet as it should be. I don’t want to give you even the slightest impression that I have been somewhat detached from loss and grief in the anniversary. It has been real and will continue to be in the days lived ahead. What grief has not been is a bottomless sorrow. And I say this in all seriousness, I had so little to do with it. God is present and he is aware in every passing moment of our lives both tragic and triumphant.
So it was, and it is.
_____________________
A quick note from me to you...
I will be taking a few days away from writing here. Instead of new writings, I will repost a handful of entries that were very meaningful to me. I want to thank each of you for reading and sharing and being so supportive. It has helped more than you probably realize. I do hope that you subscribe and continue to read in the days ahead.
Again, thank you...deeply.
I'm walking with you in my heart!!!! I love you man... Anything.... Anytime..... Anywhere.....
I've never met you but I know we someday will. I'm Sarah's Mom and a reader of your blog for the last year. I've prayed many prayers for you & your girls. I want to thank you for being obedient to writing when I'm sure you had moments of not wanting to. SOOO many things you write minister to my heart! The mercy of God is something so hard to put into words but you achieved it for me. I look so forward to more of your writing and your book, OH MY, I already know it's gonna be amazing! You can't give away something you don't own and you have OWNED this journey - and now you'll be able to give it away to the world! People will be changed and God will get the glory. Beauty has come from ashes...
This brought tears to my eyes, you are such a great and wise godly man! I'm so glad your girls have such a wonderful dad like you! You and Mrs. Marianne's marriage was one that everyone hopes to have, it was one of a kind and incomparable to any other! Just seeing you two together, even though I didn't know you two on a deeper level, made me smile! I miss her and you dearly but hope and pray that all is well with you and your family!
Sincerely
Lanie Sandoz
I know I have told you this before but just wanted to remind you, your faith is truly inspiring! Proud to call you a GREAT friend, Superman. As always, you and the girls are covered today.
Keep on Keeping on Bro!
Brody
Guy you and the girls are in my heart and prayers today and always!
Like many others, I have been silently walking through this year with you. Know that you are still covered in prayer by SO many.
Grief is such a personal journey, but your postings have united & met many of us in some sort of oneness in our own grieving experiences~Both that of Marianne & many more that have touched our lives in inspiring & holy ways as she did. Hugs,
From the first day I met you I knew you were special. You have an aura, a spirit full of life and so full of love. I have been blessed to be a professional colleague of yours and now, through facebook, more of a friend. I am in tears. I am so proud to know you and to be touched by these words!
Guy, you and the girls have been in my heart for this last year. It is hard to lose someone you love but I have seen God carry you through this in such a mighty way. Marianne was such a blessing to everyone. She touched Hannahs heart and life in a mighty way. Youll will continue to be in my thoughts and prayers.
Guy, you and the girls have been in my heart for this last year. It is hard to lose someone you love but I have seen God carry you through this in such a mighty way. Marianne was such a blessing to everyone. She touched Hannahs heart and life in a mighty way. Youll will continue to be in my thoughts and prayers.
Love you Guy! You are providing a powerful ministry through your writing. So many lives are being changed because of your willingness to open up your heart and share your story. So many more will be changed by reading your book. Good luck with the next step in the process of getting it published. We'll be praying as always.
Hi, Guy,
We are complete strangers. A friend of mine sent me your blog about a year ago when my beloved husband of seven years was killed in a head-on collision. (September 24). I didn't have the ability to read your blog then. I think my own grief was so overwhelming that I felt it would kill me to experience that kind of empathy, but for some reason, God kept bringing your blog to mind. Only just now have I finally settled down enough to read your journey. Your recent recount of those last days wrenches my soul! I know those feelngs -- the pounding heart, the dread, the shock, and even the peace. I know exactly what you mean when you say how much you disliked looking at her picture, just another reminder of the loss. I know how you feel in many ways. (Your poem to her ... precious.) My husband and I also had a particularly close relationship. We were both grounded in Christ, committed to one another, so much in love. We were so well suited for each other! We had a marriage everyone admired, and it was genuine. We were very best friends. When he died, I was left with two babies. (My son Benjamin was 2 1/2 and my daughter Katherine only 3 months.) I know how hard the single parent life is and how shocking it is to be forced to redefine yourself. But like you, I have found great strength in Christ and in the fellowship of His sufferings. I still cry and miss David. I guess I always will. But moreso I cry for the day when there will be no more death, no more tears, no more suffering. As a published writer myself, I wanted to wish you blessings on your book. You are so talented with the written word, I have no doubt that God will use it. And that's what makes the suffering worth it -- reaching others with the gospel, encouraging other believers to have a deeper relationship with Christ. I'm working on my own goals for ministry. I believe (as you do) that God is in control of all things, and that all tragedy and suffering happen for His glory. I've heard so many stories of widowed men and women in the last year, and most aren't doing so well. I thank God for you that you are one who is.
I have absolutely no idea how I could ever help you, but please don't hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything for your blossoming ministry.
Sabrina Beasley
sabrina_beasley@hotmail.com
I know you will brother, but you absolutely have to finish this book.
Thanks, Josh!! Working diligently, bro. Great to see you in Chicago and really looking forward to hearing more about your project!