Nine Years

It is such a long time - encompassing so many obstacles and much more growth and change than I ever could have fathomed. Depths of grief I wasn't sure we could climb out of and mountain top joys where we are always aware of your physical absence.

Nine years!

I was 42 when we said goodbye, now I am 51. Our children are now 22 and 23. So much life has been lived without you by our side.

It's hard to think of how different our lives would be today if you were still here.

Hard and useless.

Comparison can be a thief of joy.

I recently sat down to pay the kids' final semester bursar bills.

I cried with thankfulness to God for seeing us through these nine years.

I cried with the realization of the celebrations on the horizon where your presence will be missed.

I cried with gratitude for you., Thank you for loving us so completely,. Thank you for leading us. Thank you for providing for us. Thank you for choosing me in 1995 and for building our family together.

I am so incredibly proud of our children. Their resilience. Their work ethic. Their intense dedication to walk through their grief and improve on themselves. I am excited to see where this gift of education leads them in their lives; what trajectory their careers take, how they continue to grow personally. I may have written the checks, but they showed up, did the hard work well, and earned their soon to be awarded degrees.

A lot can change in nine years. A lot of positive can be accomplished.

I have faltered at plenty in this journey, but when it comes to our kids; I am confident your legacy has been honored and we have made you proud.

Timothy Wayne Streller

04/03/1968 - 01/11/2014

Even If

School Awards Assembly 2014

Lunch Date with Mom 2023

Seven years...

Seven years…

It’s a long time. Two thousand-five-hundred-fifty-six days!

That’s a lot of living this life without your physical presence.

Seven years have contained some bad days; some days we weren’t sure we would survive.

So much change. Incredible growth. Hard roads walked; deep grief navigated.

Seven years have held some good days. Some days of thriving and confidence. Some days overflowing with pure happiness.

All days have possessed the common thread of your absence.

Each day also has been overflowing with the presence of God. He goes before, He walks beside, He hems us in from behind and He pours His blessing of peace within our souls.

Always loved. #EvenIf

 

A Podcast Interview: Memories and Missing

Yesterday morning, I sat with a friend and visited about widowhood.

She asked real questions and I gave raw answers.  We barely even noticed the microphone in front of us.

Today, her podcast interview was released.

My first thought while listening is, "Goodness gracious, I do laugh a lot in this life!" and I am not one bit sad about that fact!

Tim would be tickled that I am still laughing my way through this messy life.

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/elizabethkaydyers-podcast/id1417204110?i=1000436964800&fbclid=IwAR19zGOQI3gvZ36Feettpa367VXZkp0vYETXWacmtTdgLfatJ-7qSkCHTcA

A Work in Progress - Uncovering Deeper Grief

It’s been quite the week here.

After a long hiatus from time in my kitchen (and complaints from the kids over my lack of cooking)…I returned to a place in my home that has always been about Tim.

He made one comment early in our marriage that stuck with me for the nearly two decades we had together. 

“I travel so much for work and eat out every meal, it would be nice when I’m in town to come home from work to a home cooked meal.”

That was all it took. One simple comment and I began spending hours in the kitchen to make sure he had a fulfilling and delicious meal at the end of his long workdays. He ALWAYS thanked me, and there were only a handful of times in the following 19 years that he didn’t wash the dishes and clean the kitchen afterwards for me.

Cooking was a way I showed appreciation and love to the man that gave his all in providing for us. It was an act of respect and obedience to his request as the head of our household. One simple comment from him and I willingly shifted my desire to be taken out to eat when he was in town. 

Within a year of that comment, we packed up and moved to Salt Lake City and I was able to prepare meals for him daily, as travel was no longer a part of his work.  It brought me joy to serve him in this simple way.

When he lost his ability to swallow during the cancer battle, I ceased cooking. I thought it too cruel to have food aroma wafting through our home for hours each day to torment him.  I was feeding him formula through his feeding tube every few hours and people were preparing meals for the kids and me several times a week for me to easily serve each evening.  This went on for over a year.

He died.

I returned to my beloved kitchen and began making meals from scratch again for the kids and myself. It wasn’t the same. Grief had somehow invaded this part of my life and besides, the kids’ schedules were so hectic that often, I wouldn’t get home to begin preparing food until close to 9:00 pm.   So I tapered off from cooking until finally in the past few years I pretty much have been non-existent in the kitchen.

Over the past few months, I have been open to the idea of dating.  Recently I decided I would just say, “I don’t cook” to would-be suitors so that I could avoid the pain of ever having to return to a chore that I no longer enjoy.  Saying it out loud, coupled with the recent teasing from our kids made me realize the reason behind my dislike of cooking.

It isn’t fun doing something that was so intricately tied to my marriage without Tim being here. That’s just my reality.  Now that I’ve been able to identify the root of my problem, I am able to properly address it and heal from it.

Communication is critical in every relationship. Unmet expectations can destroy happiness if we are unable to communicate our needs to one another.  Sometimes, self-communication is equally as important for self expectations to be met.

I’m still a work in progress…every single blasted day of this journey!  Last week, I completed three homemade meals for our family (and by Wednesday to boot...I was kind of a big deal over here).  Baby steps...but I'm learning more about myself and moving forward in new areas again.

Word of the Year

My word for 2013 was “Joy” as I desired to be joy filled in all circumstances.  It was a difficult final year with my Tim battling for each and every day of life, but we succeeded in finding the blessings and experiencing true joy through Christ Jesus.

My word for 2014 was “Rest”.  The loss of my husband and solo parenting our children through grief brought exhaustion on indescribable levels.  I most likely failed at 2014’s Word of the Year; just keeping it real, friends.

My word for 2015 was “Steadfast”.  God had proven Himself as steadfast to me and I wanted to exemplify that steadfast dependability to my children and others who needed stability from me for their own journeys.  This was the year we buried Tim’s ashes in the snow on the mountaintop of his favorite place.  God’s strength carried me through.

My word for 2016 was “Focus” as I craved remaining centered on Christ and His goodness to us.  I eliminated distractions in this year, simplified our lives with a move into our new home, and honed in on my top priority of raising our children to reach their highest potential.

My word for 2017 was “Open” as I longed to be open to whatever God brought for my future and committed to pray daily over myself that God would prepare me and my heart for His will.

My word for 2018 was “Semi-Colon”.  Continuing on with my life when I could let circumstances of my past dictate an end to joy, love, and full-on living was a CHOICE.  This vulnerability has brought some pain and heartache, along with some personal growth and boldness.  I am learning what I want for myself.  It is an ever-evolving work in progress. 

Five years post loss, empty nest, and best-friend moving across the country…so many changes are coming in the months ahead.  Before 2019 ends, I will truly be sitting here in this Edmond home alone.  My word for 2019 is COURAGE.  May I lean into the One who strengthens me for each day and builds within me for my future that only He knows.  2019 will require bravery, boldness, deep reflection, and discipline; it will demand COURAGE.

True to my Word of the Year, we will be beginning 2019 by trekking back to the burial site of our beloved Tim’s ashes.  I will, for the first time ever, be driving the mountain pass (which terrifies me).  I cannot think of a better way to kick off this new year with “courage”.  

Fill My Days with Living

 

 

“And Job died, an old man, and full of days.”

Job 42:17

My husband died in the supposed prime of his life. He was 45 years young when he passed away.  He never even got to have his midlife crisis!  In a few weeks, it will be my 45^th birthday.  The shock of being alone has worn off over the past few years.  The rhythm of this new dance without him by my side has settled into its familiar cadence.  Grief cuts in occasionally now, but the debilitating occurrences are further apart.  Maybe partially because I refuse to slow dance with my grief over and over again or possibly because the time spent on the dance floor of widowhood has changed me.

I appreciated my husband. I was blessed and I knew it.  I had one of the good ones; a hard worker and great provider, an involved father to our children, a follower of Christ, and a hilariously witty man.  May I tell you a secret?

 

Sometimes it makes me sad that he isn’t here to be loved by the new me. 

 

Don't get me wrong, we loved each other well, but losing him has made me more aware of my faults and flaws in the marriage.  It has given me fresh perspective on struggles we encountered and how I could have been more for him.  He knew he was cherished and respected.  He was secure in my love for him.  We had great communication and a ton of laughter.  But, if I was given a do-over with him as who I am now, I think he would be pleasantly surprised at how mellow his loss has made me.  I hope I would remember to sweat the small stuff less, not worrying over the goal of perfection in each area of our lives.  We loved our life together, but I'm fairly certain he would be super proud of my increased passion for living.

Tim was perfect for me as he softened my rough edges and taught me it is okay to not always have a plan A, B, and C.  Losing him to cancer taught me that I can only control my responses to life’s circumstances, not always the circumstances themselves. I am softer in many ways and much stronger in others.  I still laugh at most things (that is just part of who I am and part of why he loved me); and in general, I now tend to keep things lighter and more relaxed around our home.  I am more tolerant of others personal journeys and less accepting of unnecessary input and opinions in my life.  I wish my Tim could be loved by this Lori.  I am a better person for the spins I have taken on the dance floor of terminal illness, death, and the aftermath of loss.

Losing him caused my deepest pain so far in this life.  I could choose to park myself in that despair, focusing on the negative, and miss the gifts his loss gave me.

The gifts of…

awareness that time is fleeting and we won’t all be given a life “full of days”, which causes a sense of urgency within me to fill my days with living!

knowing God’s strength will never fail me, and choosing to tap into His strength!

a deeper desire to enjoy the now and the wisdom to slow down and soak up moments!