Monday night was probably the hardest night I’ve had since the first week following Chris’ death. And, interestingly, it followed one of the better days I’ve had in recent weeks.

I started a new job Monday with an organization that I greatly admire. It’s actually a result of years of prayer and fasting…and the journey began this week. Yes, it’s stressful beginning a new job. Yes, it’s even more stressful beginning a new job within weeks of burying my husband. However, this is a position and an organization that I KNOW God has called me to and even more…I’m convinced He called me to it at this EXACT time in my life for purposes not completely known to me just yet. But…I trust Him completely and must obey His lead.

So, after having a wonderful first day at my new job…I couldn’t wait to get home Monday night and tell Chris all about it. Yes, while driving home…I literally thought that for just a brief moment in time! Just as the thought escaped my brain, I caught myself.

What are you thinking Leah? Chris is gone. Pull yourself together.

Almost as quickly as I the thought came to the forefront of my mind…it fled.

I began to think about what it might have been like had he been at home waiting on me (he usually got home from work first). More than likely, he and Anna would be planning a special celebration dinner. He loved to cook and did the majority of it in our home. He probably would have baked my favorite treat for a sugar celebration as well. While eating dinner as a family, I probably would have monopolized the conversation while unloading the events of the day for his and Anna’s listening pleasure. Yes…that’s probably what it might have been like. But instead…

There was no special celebratory dinner.

There was no special dessert treat.

There was no family conversation around the dinner table.

Instead…I went to the cemetery. As a Christian, I know my husband isn’t truly there, but I still can’t help but feel close to him in some special way when I go sit beside his grave. As I got out of the car and walked towards his grave, I looked around and noticed that I was the ONLY one in the cemetery. This is a pretty big cemetery, but at that moment I was completely alone.

I sat down on the grass by my husband’s freshly dug grave. At first…I said nothing. Then, I began to tell Chris (and the grass and silk flowers surrounding me) everything about my day that I had wanted to share with him in person. If somebody had walked up behind me at the moment, they might have thought I was crazy. But, I didn’t care. I shared it all. I had to.

Then, I began to pray…well, I actually began a time of questioning God. It wasn’t pretty blog friends, but it was necessary. Then…it came. The downpour of tears. A flood of tears like nothing I’d cried since the day I found out (three weeks ago today, actually) that my husband was gone. Through my sobs, I managed to say one last thing to God at that moment…

Please Father…please Abba…please let me know you’re here. I know your Word says you’ll never leave me or forsake. I really do know that to be true, but right now…I need to FEEL you. I have no right to ask for this, but I really need to feel your presence, because I’m feeling very alone right now.

As I continued to sit and wait in the stillness of that moment…a soft wind quickly developed and literally passed through my hair and across my skin, and I knew. He was here. Thank you sweet Abba. I felt no other breezes other than this particular one the rest of the time I was there. But, right after the wind swept across my body, God spoke into my heart something that went like this…

Sweet daughter, come to me with your heavy heart and give it completely to me. Cry as many tears as you need to as often as you need to. Ask me anything you want to ask me. I never grow tired and weary of listening to you my child. I love you, and you’re right…I’ll never leave you or forsake you.

So, while sitting alone in the cemetery Monday night…God made His presence vividly known to me. And then…we sat…together.

How are you doing?

A question I hear most often these days. Sadly, I don’t know how to answer it…or, at least I don’t know how to answer it in ways that won’t send my questioner reeling with feelings of dread for even having asked the question to begin with. Generally, I respond with something like…

I’m hanging in there. or

I’m just living day by day (or hour by hour). or

I’m really not sure. I guess okay.

Those are my typical responses. I guess they are my “safe” responses. But, today I started thinking about my real answers to that question. They aren’t pretty. They are very raw. So, if you don’t want to really know…please go ahead and stop reading and move onto a happier blog post. I won’t blame you one bit. However, if you really want to peek into the heart of a grieving widow, this is just a small taste of how I’m really feeling:

*I miss Chris so badly that I hug his pillow so tightly at night as I sleep in hopes of still catching a whiff of his scent.

*I wear his t-shirts to bed and his sweatshirts around the house just to feel as if a little piece of him is still with me.

*I smell his bottle of cologne quite often so that I don’t forget how good he always smelled.

*I ache over the fact I had to go purchase his permanent gravemarker this morning and was so emotionally spent following that brief appointment that I couldn’t even go to work afterwards.

*I am already dreading our wedding anniversary coming up in less than 3 months.

*I am angry…tearfully angry…that I’m a 39-year-old widow.

*I’m overwhelmed at the outpouring of love and support that I’ve received from countless friends and strangers, and my heart breaks that my husband is not here to witness the love people have for us.

*I have a long list of things that I can’t wait to tell Chris…things that I would normally share at dinner or as we’re cuddling in the evenings. I feel as if I’m about to burst, because he’s not here to hear all my stories.

*I’m hurt…I’m heartbroken…I’m beyond sad…and yet I’m having to learn how to function with such deep-seeded emotions.

*I’m exhausted from crying so hard, thinking so deeply, and questioning so often.

*I wonder when I’ll feel “normal” again.

*And…I crave heaven and yearn for Jesus’ return more than ever before.

There you have it…a snippet of how I would really answer the question, “How are you doing?” if I were being completely honest. As I said, it’s not pretty. It’s just real.