Today it’s been two months since I last heard his voice, felt his warm touch, his embrace and heard his laugh. Two months of trying to figure out how I’m supposed to do life without half of myself. Today marks the first blog post and launch of the website. When I mention to people that Logan and I were starting a website, the question of “why” comes about. Why not? I journal a lot and share very openly on my social media. People often tell me my posts help them and honestly, it helps me just a little. Not in the sense of healing or “getting better” because that will never happen. But more along the lines of just not having to hold it all in. Logan also asked if he could journal on his own in hopes of being able to maybe help a child out there that may be going through a loss of their own. I’m so incredibly proud of him for wanting to do that because since losing his dad, he hasn’t wanted to open up or talk about anything. This may be helpful for him as well and teach him how to express himself openly and honestly. Something I think more men need to learn how to do too.

Lots of firsts that are coming up and even a few that we have already had to go through. We’ve taken our first trip as a family of three and it was very hard. That absence that Timmy left is huge and it’s felt with every step we take without him. I feel like a child having to learn everything all on my own again. Timmy was my safe place, my comfort and protection, my home. No matter where we were, I always felt safe and wasn’t ever ready to leave. I realized recently that wherever we were, it felt like home because we were together. Timmy was my home, and now that he’s gone, I feel like I’m homeless. Like a wanderer who doesn’t really have anywhere to settle. C.S. Lewis wrote in his book “A Grief Observed” that he didn’t realize grief felt so much like fear. That sentence hit me in the depth of my soul. I remember several years ago being on stage at church with Timmy and our pastor, talking about what it felt like to lose a child. I didn’t really have words to describe that feeling but I compared it to being out in public at a grocery store and turning your back for one second only to turn back around and see your child missing. The lump that forms in your throat, the feeling in your stomach, the panic that sets in, fear takes over and it’s hard to breathe. You eventually find your child who wandered off and you relax and hold them tightly. You thank God and keep a closer eye on your little one. Only when you lose a child to death, that lump in your throat, that feeling in the pit of your stomach, the panic that sets in, well, it never leaves. It’s constant and it becomes a part of you. You find yourself holding your breath and forgetting to breathe. Imagine having that feeling every moment of everyday for the rest of your life. Losing Timmy has compounded that feeling and even added so much more that I don’t have words to describe. Timmy wasn’t just my husband and my best friend. He was so much more. He was every single thing a person can be to someone else. When he took his last breath here and went home to Heaven, he took the woman I was with him. He helped make me into who I was. He and I were one. Our identities and who we are were intertwined. The woman I was died with him. I’m having to learn who this new person is staring back at me in the mirror. I don’t recognize her. She’s new here and I have to get to know her. I will never be who I once was. Part of me died when Leland did and even more so with Timmy. So what’s left? An empty shell of a woman who is trying to survive and find her purpose in this life.

I’ll finish here for today but this isn’t the end of my story. I never would have chosen this to be mine but it’s what God has given me. So, I try my best to trust Him and be obedient to what He tells me to do. Stay tuned as we live out loud and witness what God does in our lives, because I know He isn’t finished with us yet.