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Yet again, I'm repeating the refrain of “Happy Heavenly Birthday.” It's still easier to celebrate a birthday more than a passing day, but sorrow permeates this date ever so slightly. At core, I want to celebrate, and even more than that, I want to remember. As the lyrics of the recently heard Wilco song state, “Remember to remember me Standing still in your past . . . “ Remembering Josh comes with remembering to enjoy life. So this weekend's birthday celebrations included listening to a band he loved (Wilco) and going to see the Taylor Swift Era’s Tour movie with a friend. I love how my friend stated, “We can celebrate all the Eras of Josh with Taylor Swift” - this seemed popcorn perfect to me. I had breakfast with Josh's mom today recalling key moments from his life. Sharing these memories brings tears to our eyes, but are important and refreshing. Simply talking about the idea of remembering reminds me of Josh's love of the Old Testament and his encouragement to "remember God's faithfulness." In working through my grief still today, my mind wrestles. I debate things like, “Should I post an old photo of Josh?” “Do I really need to go to a concert of group because Josh liked them?” “Am I stuck in my grief or still progressing?” You as the reader might feel the need to answer these questions for me, but ultimately they are my questions to conquer. Grief often leads to second-guessing (literally everything) - especially as it's an emotionally charged activity. In the past four years, I've made progress and know I have more work to do. With that . . . I'll call it a wrap for this special birthday and circle back to a prayer of thanksgiving as I remember a very special person in my life! “Thank you Lord for the time Josh had on this earth. Thank you for the eras of love, family, ministry, grief and adventure. Thank you for friends and family all along the way.” ____ p.s. For the past several weeks, I’ve been navigating the word “same” and how it fits into my grief narrative. So stay tuned for a few themed posts centered around the "same."
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 Today, is another September 30th. This day, four years ago, was the last full day I spent with Josh. Four years! How can this be!
Even so, this is the lingering question and statement. How can it be four years?! It took four years to get my college degree and for Josh to get his Masters of Theology. It’s how long we lived in Dallas and the state of Nevada. It's four years of writing sappy blog posts. Four years, is the term of a presidency. It takes 3-4 years to grow asparagus (not that I have tried but it’s an interesting fact). A lot changes in four years, ask any parent of a preschooler. For this fourth year anniversary, I knew I would share something specific, and have pondered and wrestled all month with my emotions - (see previous blog posts: Wake Me Up When September Ends or September's Coming How Do You Feel. For the most part, it still feels like a strange dream. I still miss Josh; that emotion just hangs out, flaring more at times than others. In four years, my grief has in a way “grown up” like a 4-year-old child. I have learned a lot about myself and am still figuring out life. I have tried new things. For example, this weekend I hooked up the camper, drove and parked it like a pro, built a fire, and paddle-boarded (mostly sitting not standing, maybe in 4 years I can stand🤣) – all solo. This is all new stuff. I don’t intend this to be a bragging session about all the cool things I do by myself, but really just a note to say there are many things in my life that are quite different today. These things also help with the healing process; they bring joy and peace. It's sad and true that so much of the grief process we must navigate solo. We don't have to be completely alone in the process - this is also true - but even with supportive friends and family around, everyone’s grief journey is so unique and individualized. It’s often hard to explain the layers that reside in our minds and hearts so they just sit in there in a cloud of mystery. I know in the first year after Josh passed I was a total mess. The days and nights were long and hard. Today, they are easier, even with the weight of heartache that lingers within. My mind and body still feel the tension, and the restlessness that September of 2019 had when we navigated a terminal illness - waking up each day to wonder, is this it? I don’t feel the same intensity or worry today, but those memories still flare up. Four years still seems too long, but then again, everyday without someone you love is too long. I could get stuck in this idea or pause and give thanks. It’s still a choice. Some days I want to just be sad or mad, yet still thankfulness is key. Thanks be to God for the days and nights Josh and I had together, for the 24 years of a dating and marriage relationship (six sets of 4 years is one thought). Thank you for these past four years filled with sorrow, joy, and new adventures. It is still a joy to experience the beauty of this earth. This weekend’s bright full moon was a gift of its own and for me nature continues to provide healing. I am not sure I can really say “Happy September 30," but I can acknowledge that today is a special one for me and others who loved Josh as well. ___ Sidebar: The moon orbits the Earth just over 13 times a year creating 12 full moons or 48 full moons in four years. 🌙 🌝  The music today (and yesterday) contains many songs that speak to grief in one way or another – whether it be grieving a lost love or relationship, or grieving over a loved one one who is no longer on earth. With the resounding crash of {{ September }} like cymbals in my mind, I stumbled across a song by the 90s grunge band group Green Day. Since then, has been on my rehearsal track for open mic nights.
The song, “Wake me up When September Ends.” Admittedly, I do kind-of want to skip this month as mostly everything makes me realize that this was the last month I had with my friend, my love, my husband, Josh. While listening to song again, another thought hit me. Even if there was a magical way to skip this month, the truth would remain that there a piece of my life (and heart) is still missing. Yes, time softens the blow allowing me to not be a crying, sorrowful mess all the time, but it doesn’t take away the ache – the deep scar of loss. Indeed, if I tried to sleep or avoid the whole month of September, I’d wake up and still feel the hurt. I know I have said this before (I am my own resounding sound) but grief doesn’t magically disappear. The depth of our love parallels with the depth of our grief. In my own heartache, I continually realize that no matter how we feel it is still true that we aren’t alone in our grief. God is with us to the depth of our grief. He see it, knows it and doesn’t leave us. In fact, the depth of God’s love parallels the depth of grief. This brings to mind this Scripture passage: “So that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” - Ephesians 3:17-19 NIV What I have found in 4 years of wrestling grief is that God is indeed with me in the depths of my grief. Sometimes I am not sure I really let him in, but I do need him. It’s an ongoing process and sometimes still trusting the God who says, “I’ve got you” is hard. So for both myself and you, my encouragement for this day and this month (whatever day or month that is for you) is this: May we grief grasp the depth of Gods love, ESPECIALLY in the depth of our heartache. In case you need to listen to some Green Day or read the lyrics here the links are below: I read that this song is indeed about grief, "Green Day lead singer Billie Joe Armstrong wrote this song about his father, who died of cancer on September 1st, 1982" • Song Lyrics • Video Lyrics & Song I didn’t mean to stop writing about grief. It’s not like it is less important or that I have conquered it all. It just seems I’ve gotten busy or that I only think about writing posts and fail to write them. Sometimes, I don’t want to take the time to "express my feelings"; other times I am not sure if what I am thinking makes any sense, so why write? And often, the day's emotions and thoughts merely fade as a new day arises. With this in mind, tonight (or this morning) I decided to be intentional. Instead of just drifting off to sleep or getting lost in a goofy TV show, following a fun night of music with friends, it seemed necessary to process a bit more (and write!). Lately, the resounding bell of September has started to ring. Last night, my sleep was restless as each time I awoke I thought, “September is almost here. September 30 is almost here. Four years ago was the last time I saw my late husband Josh's face. How could it be four years? Ugh, Sept 30." The weight of the emotion lingered throughout the day. Then, this evening I found myself talking with my friend Jim about music and artists that Josh equally enjoyed (Wilco, Rich Mullins, etc). During tonight's open mic, Jim and I sang a Rich Mullins song - it wasn’t one Josh played often, but still it connected with me. (In case you don’t know we shared a Rich Mullins song: The Love of God at Josh’s Celebration of Life.) My newish friend never had a chance to meet Josh, yet there’s a common thread. At times, talking with him is like having a small piece of Josh lingering in this world. It’s unique and beautiful. Of course, I wish the two of them could have met and swapped stories – that would have been interesting! But, this prompt to write is not only about a night of music, it is also about the time of year. With only two days left in August, there is a sorrow in my heart brewing. Much like how the month of April causes me to have all the feels about my mom, it seems the upcoming month of September is also rendering a sense of deep sorrow. I recognize the patterns as I navigate each new season or new year of grief. Yet, even as I realize these, I am often still surprised by how much my heart aches. I know I am not alone in these feelings and I know people face new and return grief each day. The time frame of an aching sorrow might differ, but as fellow grievers we can relate with one another. As I've heard it said, “there’s no timetable on grieving someone you love.” There is a part of me that hopes, Josh can hear the silly conversations I have about life, music, culture, church, etc. The thought makes me smile and in a way it lightens the grief. Maybe these early morning ramblings are simply that, but maybe they will be an encouragement to someone walking in the wild ride of grief – people facing love and loss and navigating a life that is now littered with moments of deep sorrow, humorous thoughts and lingering questions. With that, here's one final refrain: Hold on. Let the music continue; your song is important. And remember . . . the Lord is with you.  Fun photo from Christmas 2013 when I finally got the Wilco poster framed 4 years after the Dallas concert.  Today I had good cry on Mother’s Day - maybe you did too. It could be because you are missing your own mother. Perhaps it's because your child (of any age) passed away, or that you couldn’t have children and are grieving that loss.
Big holidays like today stir up the emotions easily. For me, it seems that taking time to mow, a task my late husband really loved, also cut some fresh feelings within me. The outdoor time had me thinking about how we tried to have our own kids for many years in many ways, and it didn’t happen. This acceptance still stings and had me wishing he was here to talk about it. Of course, I also thought about my mom and the wonderful memories we had growing up and how I wish she was here to share her wisdom with me. I recently told someone whose mom passed away this year that, “You never stop missing your mom.” Each story is different and there are people with complicated relationships all around, but still this special day contains layers of grief. Like the rings found inside a tree (or as I recently learned, a large hail stone), we carry with us that love, the memories, and the wishes for more time with our loved ones. These feelings are etched into our ongoing lives. And sometimes these feelings will just bust out - they are too heavy to stay in (also like hail from a cloud). So, in my post-mowing Mother’s Day cry . . . I had to take a moment to bust out/write/process. This post is for anyone who just might need a good cry today . . . to remind you that it’s ok. It is still also possible to celebrate in the midst of the sorrow. You can be thankful for the moms and women in your life and celebrate them; there are many special ladies in my life who fall in this category. Of course, being both thankful and sad does create a tension and may require you to take a few deep breaths. I also encourage you to lift up these tensions and feelings to the God who loves us the most! “Thank you Lord for this day. Thank you for the memories with my mom, and ones with my husband. Thank you for the many women who guide and encourage. Thank you for being with me as I continue to walk out this life, cutting new grass as you carry me through each season. Thanks even for the tears that represent love.” Happy Mother's Day to you all - Jenn It wasn’t until I paused in the middle of the day to write the date on a form that I realized it was April 12th. This is the date that still rings alarm bells in my head as the day I unwillingly said "goodbye" to my mom here on earth.
As soon as I recognized the date, my mind began to spiral back in time like a time machine. Memories of our last goodbye, our shopping adventures, and wonderful childhood memories. Not longer after, I stopped and ordered a mint chocolate protein shake and chuckled as I thought about how this type of drink didn’t even exist 25 years ago. I expect my always health-conscience mom would have have loved trying this low-calorie option. How wild time as we grieve on. Some days you feel frozen in it, other days you are surprised its oncoming. Even still, each day and date is significant to someone. Today someone is facing a heartache that is unlike another, the same will happen tomorrow. Yesterday, I attended a funeral service for a friend’s grandmother. Sitting in her service, I heard about her faithful life of 93 years and how she prayed for her family daily. It was sad to see the heartache as my friend's mom honored her own mother with a tearful goodbye tribute. Yesterday was a hard day for their family as were the days leading up to this moment. Even when someone has lived a full life for many years, the sorrow and pain of parting is real. Thankfully, as followers of Christ we also believe in the real hope of heaven. We cling to this hope as our grief and sorrow weaves through our lives in complex ways. This hope doesn't wipe away all our tears, but it softens the blow. I do think at times people can use this forward hope as a way to try and skip over the sorrow and heaviness we encounter along the way, but that's another challenge in the process of grieving. The best we can do is to own our grief and still cling to hope. These words in Colossians 3 are a good anchor. We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you, because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all God’s people— the faith and love that spring from the hope stored up for you in heaven and about which you have already heard in the true message of the gospel that has come to you. In the same way, the gospel is bearing fruit and growing throughout the whole world—just as it has been doing among you since the day you heard it and truly understood God’s grace. – Colossians 3:3-6 |
Author: JennHi! It's Jenn Brown, writing my story that is now slightly different as we enter a season of new grief. On September 30, 2019, my dear husband Josh passed away after battling brain cancer. Archives
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