The Box

The Box

Everyone will tell you that they are in a "better place". I mean, it is true really. Being up high in the heavens with our Lord and Savior is a better place than here on the Earth. But that does not take away the pressing ache in my chest, or the overwhelming tears that fall along my cheeks at just the thought of you. It is December and it is the first time in nearly fifteen years it is snowing so close to Christmas.

"It's going to be white Christmas Babe." I whisper while gazing out the tall picture window of our bedroom.

I pull down the shade and close the curtain. The window is closed but that could have fooled me with how cold I feel. Upon turning around my eyes sweep the room that is so full of memories but is as silent as the night outside. The room has only one lamp on by our bedside casting a soft yellow glow around the room, illuminating all its silence. My eye catches on a box under your side of the bed. I kneel and reach under to grasp the box. It glides against the carpet as I pull it out. A brown and red shoe box which is in pristine condition is set before me on the pale rug. I made no move to open it, at first. I say a silent plea to the Lord and take a deep breath. Unsure what I may have stumbled upon. Maybe I am a glutton for pain.

I remove the lid of the box, and a sob makes its way up and catches in my throat. I sift through the contents of the box realizing it is all our memories. Hallmark Cards that have worn edges and scribbled handwriting. Love letters from when we were dating that some of the ink has faded. Vacation trinkets we collected over the years of our adventuring together. A very worn, small bible that I recall you carrying to church for years before a friend bought you a much bigger one. I chuckled slightly at that one. I clutch the bible in my arms bringing my knees to my chest and let the tears fall.

“Why Lord. Why take him from me? Was his job here really done! How do I do Christmas without him!” I can hear the anger begin to penetrate though my tears.

It has been weeks since my husband passed but that question remains unanswered. Maybe it is not my place to ask. But they say God hears those who mourn and comforts them. I am not so sure right now.

“Lord, I do not know how to navigate Christmas. How can I be joyful and laughing with family when I feel so alone and hurt.” I beg.

I toss the bible at the frame of the bed in frustration and weeping to only apologize and pick it back up. When I do pick it back up, I turn and read where the page opened.

“He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.” 2 Corinthians 1:4 NLT

“Okay Lord, I hear you, but just so you know this sucks.” God knows I am nothing but brutally honest with him, so I continue “If am meant to help others through this you need to get me through this first. Guide me, Lord. I am your vessel” I sit for a moment basking in the silence with my eyes closed surrendering myself and this situation entirely to him.

I put all the items back into the box with a small smile on my face. I stand up and walk over to our desk and I pull out a blank notebook and begin writing. I pour the thoughts I have onto the page. I drench it in my deep emotions from losing my husband, my God given partner. When I finish writing, which is hours later I fold the paper, place it inside the box, and glide the box back under the bed.

Feeling satisfied, for now. I go into the bathroom and wash my face and brush my teeth. When I come back into the bedroom it is still silent but a sense of peace I did not carry before is with me. I throw myself into our bed and roll over facing your side. I grab your pillow holding it close. Relishing the fact it still smells of your cologne. I close my eyes, and sleep comes easier than it has in weeks.

The next morning, I had a renewed sense of spirit. It is Monday morning and Christmas is this week. The sadness begins to creep in when I realize you are not here beside me. But today and all the days leading up to the holiday, I will open my bible and seek Gods peace in my struggle. I will seek Gods wisdom in navigating my feelings. I will seek the joy in where you are and, in the job, I am to do here with my time left on this earth.

I make my way to the closet and pull out the Christmas tree, deciding better late than never. I spend the day decorating the tree, watching our favorite movie, and crying just as much as laughing at all the ornaments we have collected over the years. They say grief comes in waves and I know there will be good and bad days ahead. This year will be all the first Holidays I spend alone. I will prepare for them by remembering you and cherishing all the days we did have together. Cancer may have taken you from me, but you will never really be gone. I ask Alexa to put on some music and a smile gleams across my face when Dominic the Donkey by Lou Monte comes on because it was your favorite. I may be alone physically without you here, my love, but I am never truly alone in spirit. I thank the Lord for that