 I awoke in Sedona to the most beautiful camping back drop on Thursday morning. It was a wonderful surprise after arriving after dark (after watching the sunset at the Grand Canyon). Last time Josh and I wound our way down the curvy road into Sedona, I told him I wanted to camp here, so I was pretty stuck on making this happen. Doing so felt somewhat satisfying. Even funnier, to me, is that I ended up setting up my tent in the dark which was one of Josh’s camping rules.
The next morning, Josh's brother, Gabe and his wife Julie, who were in Phoenix for a conference made their way to Sedona for a hike. We soon found each other and set off on more explorations together. It was a joyful day of exploring and hanging out, conversations about Josh and by the time I got back to my hotel for the night, I completely crashed and basically slept for like 10 hours after watching the sunset from my hotel room window - glorious! I guess all the traveling, hiking and emotions of the day (or days) finally hit me and the dogs. Another great highlight of this day was eating at a restaurant, The Mariposa Grill, that Josh and I stumbled on in Sedona. It’s one of my favorite memories from two summer's ago of us driving up in our very dirty car, full of all our stuff to valet park. We then ate the best meal looking like hobos as the sun set over the red cliffs. Humorously, this visit, I still didn't look great after camping overnight and hiking and new memories were made with my sister -in-law in the same location. The memories both old and new are sweet and still bittersweet. I expect many of these memories and even new ventures will continue to feel the same. Day by day I continue forward knowing God's mercies surround me. Lamentations seems fitting: "The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." - Lamentations 3:22-23
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 The beauty of the sunset at the Grand Canyon can be a real tear-jerker on any day but especially in a season of loss. On the way, there happened to be a McAllister’s where I stopped to get a sweet tea in honor of Josh and I arrived 20 minutes before sunset. It was kind of a spontaneous detour on my way to Sedona and so worth it.
As the sky filled with shades or orange, blue and yellow, I thought how saying goodbye to this day also represented saying goodbye to Josh many days ago. I said to the sky, “goodnight my love” but don’t expect these words to be heard. These are more for me than him but they feel good still. Josh and I visited the Grand Canyon a few times, with friends, just us, on mission trips. We once even woke early with our friends the Nelson’s and read God’s Word by sunrise. All of these memories fill my mind. Each day my grief goes up and down, there are tears, smiles, laughter, sorrow and contentment. It really does feel like my traveling adventures going up and down hills and valleys. Sometimes these adventures are a welcome distraction, other times they remind me how much I miss Josh. Through it all, God continues to provide hope and confidence for my own future as I ask for clarity in what is next on this journey. It’s not easy, and I will keep saying this, it’s a process. Today, this verse is echoing in my mind. “For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God, you may receive what was promised.” Hebrews 10:36 NASB There I sat in the hotel lobby, next to the fireplace, eating my waffle I had just made at the free continental breakfast when I became acutely aware of the background music: Jack Johnson’s, “Better Together.” I already felt a vulnerable sitting on the couch alone, trying to distance myself from the crowded dining hall filled with families, so the song just added a dagger in my heart. Here I was, trying to stay cool and collected, while enjoying the oversized fireplace. Instead, I ended up more quickly eating my waffle and blinking a lot so I wouldn’t be the crying girl on the couch. I guess if it turned into that, the conversation could be interesting but still not my goal for the morning. It’s hard to prepare for grief or even what to expect in the process. There are times when I should expect the emotions rise up more and other times of surprise emotions that appear when least expected. This morning was the surprise kind. Currently, I can easily say life was better when Josh and I were together, but only focusing on this can keep me stuck and I know God has more for me. Thinking more on the idea of better, the first part of Psalm 84:10 comes to mind. “Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere.” One day in God’s court is better than any I could ever have or imagine with Josh. This understanding doesn’t take away the hurt of Josh not being here but it does help shift my gaze a little. Maybe today, instead of only dwelling on the words of Jack Johnson’s Better Together, I will instead listen to Better is One Day by Matt Redman. Both will probably make me cry for the same and different reasons.  Sidebar: Saying things like “they are in a better place” to someone grieving doesn’t help. While there is truth in it, we still want them here with us, fully healthy. Another thing to say is “tell me what you miss most.”
So many thoughts today but the big one really was looking out over the area called Layers of Life at Rainbow Curve in Rocky Mountain National Park.
Each of our lives have layers of hills, valleys, beauty, heartache and details that we cannot even recognize. Seeing the spectacular view today reminded me of the many times I had been in this same park and various mountain top moments Josh and I have had literally and even figuratively. I miss him being on this mountain top trip today. There are times on the drive that I still imagine him riding alongside me. It’s nice to have pups on the drive but they aren’t quite as impressed by changes in scenery or as talkative. All my scenic detours, while worth it, made for a long day, and a late night arrival at my KOA cabin in Douglas, Wyoming. Pulling up, I met some other campers and share a bit of my story which of course kind of caught them by surprise - especially since they are my age. It’s weird at times, that I can actually talk about Josh, and “what happened” in kind of reporter-like fashion. I, of course, have many emotions connected to our story but can temporarily take a break to share the info. I had arrived hoping to just go to bed but instead spent like 45 minute talking to strangers around a campfire. I guess that’s part of the adventure too. My prayer tonight as I rest in this cozy cabin is that God will be seen in and through all of this - that people might even be drawn into his love in a bigger, brighter way - much like the bright moon shining over the Wyoming night sky. Yesterday was a challenge. We wrapped up our to-do list in Arkansas and my sister-in-law, Erin and her husband and I headed to Missouri to reconnect with the family and continue preparing for Saturday.
I expected it to be hard but hit the wall of tears faster than expected when I entered my brother-in-law, Gabe’s house. I couldn’t stop them. Gabe tried to distract, but 10 steps into the dining room and it was like my mind was yelling at me, "the last time you were here, Josh was too!" He sat at that table and laughed not long ago, sat on that couch by our niece and nephews, etc, etc. The cry party continued as I drove to Josh’s mom’s house, where really more than a decade of memories have happened. The last time were were there, the 4th of July, before that we had a hair cutting party and before that . . . etc., etc., etc. I sat in my car for a solid 15 minutes or more trying to compose enough strength to even walk back in the house. It weighs heavy on all of us. There is a empty spot. Josh was here. We shared many great moments together here, and here and here, etc. Mixed in with the sorrow and grief, we still find ways to laugh and love one another. Much like the words to a song we plan to use in Saturday's service, "joy and sorrow are His ocean, and in their every ebb and flow." I am thankful that is still possible. I still want to cry at the drop of a hat but and my late nights and early mornings lead to piles of Kleenex and tear-streaked pillows. And it's okay. I’m sticking with the “It’s okay that your not okay” concept. Grief is messy. Day 3 I stayed up way too late working on photos and the service program but couldn’t sleep anyway, so why not. Again, upon waking and realizing this is another new day without Josh, my eyes filled with tears. Early this morning, we had to officially send in the official obituary to the paper. How is this possible? Am I really hitting send on an email titled Josh Brown Obituary. Yes. Sad. But true. Not fake news, not practice, not someone else’s story that doesn’t cut as deep. This simple but hard task led to lots more tears to start the day. We continue on . . . Working on the various projects, tasks and pieces needed for Saturday‘s services. There is limited time and space between the tasks where I can grieve but I still do of course. I look forward to Saturday’s service and honoring Josh but I am terrified of it also. Another reminder that all of this is really happening. As I have been reminded many times, God’s got this, he’s got me, he’s got us and ultimately his love and light will be shown through Saturday’s events. Therefore we trust him ever still. That old Rich Mullins song that Josh also enjoyed, “Hold Me Jesus” is so fitting. Hold Me Jesus Well, sometimes my life just don't make sense at all When the mountains look so big, And my faith just seems so small So hold me Jesus, Cause I'm shaking like a leaf You have been King of my glory Won't You be my Prince of Peace And I wake up in the night and feel the dark It's so hot inside my soul I swear there must be blisters on my heart So hold me Jesus, Cause I'm shaking like a leaf You have been King of my glory Won't You be my Prince of Peace Surrender don't come natural to me I'd rather fight you for something I don't really want Than to take what you give that I need And I've beat my head against so many walls Now I'm falling down, I'm falling on my knees And the Salvation Army band is playing this hymn And Your grace rings out so deep It makes my resistance seem so thin So hold me Jesus, Cause I'm shaking like a leaf You have been King of my glory Won't You be my Prince of Peace You have been King of my glory Won't You be my Prince of Peace (In a weird parallel, Rich Mullins also died in September with a birthday in October at the age of 41). My sister (in-law) Erin and I have been using the phrase "Flash Flood Alert" often when we expect impending tears to soon occur. And indeed, it felt like this banner was running across my forehead all day yesterday. Of course, my eyes were pretty red from crying so maybe it really was like I had this eye-banner going.
My first full day without Josh in sight was busy as family poured in and we moved around supplies, walked, talked, ate ice cream, bbq and more. A company picked up the hospital bed and other supplies we no longer need which was good but weird. It was felt strange to get rid of these items because Josh used them last, but it was also a bit of a relief to change the focal point of the room. Now there is a strange empty space . . . There's a lot of empty space and the feelings of such. Leaving home and spending time in public places seems to be a real challenge. As I sit in restaurants, everything seems to be normal to everyone else in the room but to me it feels so abstract. I know our family and friends feel the difference too - Josh is not there with us like he should be. There is a gap. For it feels like the Grand Canyon. Tears wait like a pounding drum in the distance getting closer and closer (Drums in the deep. They are coming - LOTR). I feel them coming, I try to keep them at bay for a little bit, but soon I break. The tears fall a bit everywhere or behind my glasses (if I have them on). Sometimes, I just have to rush outside to find fresh air or a new scene. Fresh air really helps me recover for a bit. Sometimes I wonder if I'll be able to rejoin the crowd, but if I don't quickly, it's okay too. My heart aches, the world is different. In contrast, there is still joy, laughter, hope and most treasured friendships that grow deeper as my heart grieves. There is great joy – God's joy – in being surrounded by people who care so much for me and each other. Friends who are near and dear. Family that loves me greatly and continues to trust me in my crazy service planning and overall weirdness and crying outbursts. It is a new day. It's early, but still a new day and I'm trusting that God is with me. I thought I would be able to sleep from exhaustion but find myself awake at 1, 2 ...5... 6 etc... writing thoughts, feelings and planning memorial services. After finally going to sleep a little after 2, I woke before 6 to a quiet sounding home, the silence made me think all the more about my husband not being nearby snoring. I would not open my door today to see his bed even. In the gaps of silence, I know the Lord is near to me, the brokenhearted. Suddenly, Josh's words of encouragement from the past echo in my mind. Many times over the years, he's said to me, "I'm so proud of you." I would often make a face at him when he said something nice, which he thought was silly. This time though, as I heard the words in my mind, I simply said, "Thanks friend." Thank you God for a giving me spouse who loved me dearly and the memories of our love and conversations that echo on. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted. And saves those who are crushed in spirit. – Psalm 34:18 (NASB) God, brilliant Lord, your name echoes around the world. – Psalm 8:9 (The Message) Enter Day 1 - I woke up crying, of course.
I tried to sleep last night and although exhausted, I struggled. I couldn't even really think, my mind a mushy mess. I ended last night outside staring at the stars. When I looked at my watch at 11:45 p.m. I thought, "I can't go to sleep until I see the last moment of this night" – the last night/day spent with Josh here on earth. So I waited. I laid on the patio furniture and gazed at the stars and let the sorrow sink in even more. I finally surrendered at 12:05. I had made it to a new official day. Going to sleep wasn't easy even after an emotional day. I knew I needed sleep but simply could not. Instead, I watched old TV comedies that I've often enjoyed with Josh. After a few episodes I fell asleep, only to wake up one hour later. Ugh! The second time three hours later. I stirred and immediately felt the need to cry. And did. Ugh! The support and encouragement pouring in on my text and social media posts are encouraging but result in more tears. I thought, maybe, I had pre-grieved some but nope, still not enough. There's no way to really prepare. I know this is going to be a long road. My heart will continue to be heavy for long time, grief continues on. I know it. For now, I cry out for the Lord's help. And lean in on the love and support that is surrounding me. I pray that Jesus will be with me and trust truly that he is indeed. |
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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