As I write this, a full year has passed since my wife Angela entered into victory. First, I want to thank all of you who reached out with cards, texts, emails, calls, and prayers. I appreciate your concern and encouragement.
Some of you asked if I did anything special to commemorate the day. In a way, I did, but the timing wasn’t entirely planned (at least not by me). I sent the revised draft of The Widower and the Washer to my editor, bringing Angela’s story another step closer to being shared with the world.
Many of you have asked how I am doing, now that I’ve been through a full year without Angela. I miss her every day, but I am in a good place emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Writing our story certainly impacted my processing of her loss and the timing of my healing journey. But this is the first time I’ve had an opportunity to look back on a full year of life without Angela.
The Year That Was
Like every person who has lost a spouse, I had to experience all of the key calendar events alone. Anniversary, birthdays, Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and finally, the Super Bowl. Each of these events came with its own sentiments and challenges, but the Lord showed up in unique and unexpected ways in a few of them.
I spent some of the holidays with Angela’s family and even had a small get-together with her parents to commemorate her birthday. However, the date that I was most apprehensive about was our anniversary. Every year, Angela and I took our anniversary off from work and spent the day together. I wasn’t sure how I would approach it this year.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to decide what to do. A young couple from my church had chosen the same date as their wedding day, so I had the joyous opportunity to join with others and celebrate their new union.
Lastly, the year wrapped up with a Super Bowl victory by the home team. (An outcome Angela would have enjoyed.)
As grateful as I am for these key moments, one season last year stands out as a particularly difficult one.
Revisiting Autumn
I have always enjoyed fall. The cooler temperatures, the changing leaves, and the MLB postseason are just some of the joys of the season. I can take the dog for a walk by the lake without both of us sweltering under a hot sun. And it is not as buggy and rainy as the spring. Fall is by far the best time for getting outside.
This year, it also was a season filled with both practical and sentimental challenges.
Administrative Matters
Angela was an expert-level organizer and planner. Every year she put these skills to good use for two annual fall events: Back-to-school and our son’s birthday. Angela was on top of every aspect of these occasions. Supply lists, invite lists, annual forms—she had all of this under control.
My job was to shop for gifts (which I finished in the summer) shop for school supplies (which we did as a family) and do all of the set-up at party time.
So I was out of my depth this year when the time came to fill out all the annual forms for school, confirm we had all the supplies, and track down the contact information for my son’s friends’ parents to send out party invitations.
I pulled it off, but probably not very efficiently. It was also exhausting, but my exhaustion was likely amplified by the sentimental aspects of the season.
Fall Memories
Historically, the whole back-to-school aspect never dampened my appreciation for autumn. In a way, it always made fall seem (at least in my mind) like a season of new beginnings. A new school year (and a new football season) meant clean slates and new opportunities.
I began to associate fall even more closely with new beginnings in 2010 when Angela and I first started dating. Our first date was a mid-September walk at Peace Valley Park. Since it was fall, we didn’t have to worry about excessive sun, bugs, or pollen. The forecast was “bring a jacket—just in case.”
So in recent years, on top of my preference for the agreeable fall weather, September added a layer of nostalgia to our minds as Angela and I remembered the beginning of our story. This past September, I primed those memories by revisiting the Peace Valley Park and retracing our steps. The sky was overcast and even a little misty at times.
I passed the small pier where, three months after our first date, I proposed to Angela. Six months after my proposal, Angela and I returned to that same pier to shoot wedding pictures. On subsequent anniversaries, we often returned to that pier for more pictures.
This year, I saw a new pier. The original pier was still there when Angela and I last visited the park on our final anniversary together. Now it was gone, rebuilt with composite decking material. The pier—which had always been a symbol for us—had become a new kind of symbol.
Still, there was one other aspect of my trip to the park that made the fall such an important time in my healing journey.
Keyboard Therapy
I wasn’t used to visiting Peace Valley Park alone. I cannot recall a time I had ever done so. But I made sure I was prepared, so I stopped by one of the picnic pavilions where I had cover from the misty air, unpacked my digital typewriter, and spent an hour working on The Widower and the Washer.
At that time, I was in the process of drafting the track of the book that recounted our story. End to end, that particular track took a few weeks to write. So it occupied most of my September.
In other words, I spent a month reliving our entire history. In accelerated form. Unpacking dusty memories and prominent ones alike. It was a lot of processing to condense into not a lot of time.
But I needed it. Not just because of my self-imposed (and completely arbitrary) deadline for handing the book off to my editor. But because I knew that the year ahead would—like the rebuilt pier—need to look very different.
Crossing the Mile Marker
In the months following Angela’s departure, I assessed my situation. I reviewed my finances, schedules, work, and more, and determined that I would commit to not making any major changes in the year ahead.
At the same time, I knew that I would not be able to put major decisions off indefinitely. So with a year of healing and writing behind me, it’s time to start strategizing and planning. A couple of things are clear to me, while others are still unknown. My to-do list and my action steps are still just barely getting started.
But among the certainties I have in this season, I am grateful that I had the time to process, to grieve, and to rest. I know that I will still face difficult tasks and sentimental moments. My tears are not completely exhausted. But I also trust the One who sustained me over the past year to guide me in the year to come.
So I invite you all to continue to pray for me, that I may hear His voice and discern His wisdom as I enter another year of unfamiliar territory.