Leah Stirewalt

Out of Deep Waters

I Had to Wash the Sheets

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If you happened to read an earlier post of mine about my sheets, you know I had no intention of washing them anytime soon. It was one of the last tangible links I had to my husband. We slept in those same sheets together the night before he entered the hospital. Although almost completely gone, I could still catch a small whiff of his scent through the sheets (or maybe it was just my imagination, but it still made him feel close). I vowed I wouldn’t wash the sheets until they were falling part or simply too scary to sleep in anymore. Sorry folks…I know that sounds gross (and, I’m a very clean person), but grief causes you to behave in ways you never dreamed possible before.

The sheets were holding up quite well until…

Remember me telling you about my “bed buddy” – Austyn? He’s been sleeping with me for several weeks now. Well…I guess he slept a little too soundly the other night and soaked his PullUp, pajamas, AND the sheets! The poor little guy certainly couldn’t help it, but I was so disappointed. However, I didn’t let him see that disappointment; I simply pulled the sheets off the bed and tossed them into the washing machine for cleaning. Another closed door.

My brain tells me this probably sounds completely ridiculous, but my heart knows it’s completely rational under the circumstances, and you have to do what you have to do to survive a tragedy such as this (especially having experienced a widow journey now TWICE).

It seems with every tangible change in this journey, there is a heart change that often accompanies it. Such has been the case with my sheet washing experience.

I’ve struggled so hard to believe Joel is really gone. I’m not crazy…I KNOW he’s gone. I was there when he took his last breath. I saw his lifeless body in the casket. I watched the casket lowered into the ground. I KNOW. However, the suddenness of it all, and the fact he was so full of life just in the days leading up to his brief illness makes this whole thing seem ludicrous. Like…HOW can this be so?

I think on that day I washed our sheets for the first time since he went to Heaven, my heart finally believed Joel isn’t coming back. He’s really gone. And, I wept…HARD…almost as hard as when I first heard the words he wasn’t going to make it. And, thus, my grief journey took another turn…

Eight Weeks

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It’s been eight weeks since Joel went home to Heaven. Eight weeks. I can’t believe he’s been gone that long. And yet…it’s really just been a short amount of time. I guess the days just feel so long. I haven’t reached the point in my grief journey yet where the days fly by. Oh…how I wish I were there.

Part of the reason is because of my temporary health crisis following my three foot surgeries in March. I’m still bound to a recliner for most of the day with a wound vac attached to my foot that has to remain elevated on two pillows for the bulk of the day. For some reason, God allowed this to happen and so soon after Joel’s death. I have yet to understand this. But, He is sovereign and knows the big picture. I trust Him completely. I still hurt.

I have way too much time on my hands sitting in this recliner. Too much time to think. Too many memories to drift back to, and too much time to cry. While crying can be healing, I feel like I do entirely too much of it. Every time someone comes to visit, and we start talking about my love, I can hardly get two to three words out before the tears start falling. I miss him terribly. Here they go again…I can’t write about him without crying. Unless you’ve been in similar shoes, there’s no way you can possibly understand this type of pain. I would rather someone cut off my leg…both of my legs, for that matter…than be without my best friend, my husband, my love, the daddy to our children. As harsh as that sounds, I can’t imagine how that type of pain could hurt this badly. Physical pain can heal…pain of the heart…always exists.

From experience, I know it won’t feel this painful all the time. I know there will be good days in my future. I know I’ll be able to genuinely smile and laugh again. I know my children will heal as well. I know my purpose in this pain will be established. I know God will use my pain. I know God will use Joel’s death for His glory.

While I know all of these things to be true…it doesn’t stop the ache I feel in the center of my core at this very time. I want it to go away. I hate feeling this way. I hate being this sad. I look for joy, because I long for it.

Oh God…Help me this day! Protect my bleeding and broken heart. Restore my joy! Show me something to smile about today. I desperately need You! My hurt is overwhelming me today. 

#HeIsStillGood