One Year After Goodbye

Two weeks ago, I rolled into a parking lot for the first time in almost a year. The oak trees stood resolutely in their places, unchanged by a lap around the sun. I sat for a moment in my car with the engine off. But then, it was time. I got out of my car, laid eyes on the familiar brick building that had been Robyn’s home for her last 4 months on Earth, and walked back into the hospice house.

Not much had changed. I stopped first at the memorial wall. My parents had purchased a memorial to add to the list of names in the great room. I spent a few minutes looking for Robyn’s name. It took me a while to find it, but at last I did. I wasn’t teary-eyed when I walked in. But finding her name brought sorrow. She was such a good wife. So loving and kind. She was patient with my many faults and faithfully cared for our kids. Seeing her name reminded me of the many good times and the sadness of her absence.

Next, I walked down the hallway to her old room. The house only had five patients the day I visited, but one was occupying the room that was Robyn’s. I could only stand near the window next to her room at the end of the hallway. I stood, looking out at the greenscape where men hit little while balls into little holes. Here the tears filled my eyes but did not overflow. The hospice house was quiet. The day was a cool fall day with the leaves changing. It was so much like the many days we spent on the deck with Robyn in the fall last year.

I walked back to the front desk and chatted with a nurse who recognized me. Then off to the deck that held so many memories. Twice a day, if she had the energy, we would wheel her hospital bed out to the deck and eat lunch and dinner in the fresh air. Robyn loved to be outdoors. The kids would run and play on the massive deck. I would sit next to Robyn and chat with Julie and Robyn’s mom, Sherry. Many meals were spent on that deck whenever she had the strength for it. And of course, the time when 350 students, staff, and faculty came from my school to sing praise songs with us. That deck is a special place.

After watching two deer foraging in the woods for a bit, I went back indoors and greeted the other nurse. Both of them were there many times when Robyn was a resident at Kavanaugh House. We chatted a bit and I gave a small update. Then it was time to go.

The last memory was the small play area for kids that I parked near. I remember taking the kids out there many times to blow off some steam. Robyn’s brother and his family came out a number of times from Michigan to see us in hospice. My kids always love to see their cousins. I have many pictures from that little play area where the four cousins are having a great time.

It is a strange thing to bury a spouse. In one sense, I only buried an earthly tent (2 Cor. 5:1). Robyn’s soul is with the Lord. I will see her again one day. But for now, we are separated. And yet in another very real sense, Robyn is gone. She has gone back to the dust that God made us from. Separation is always painful. And the sorrow lingers on. Though at present, the waves of grief seem like what’s left after the storm has passed and the waters are beginning to calm.

A year ago I had no idea that God’s plan for me would include being remarried the next summer. I didn’t know that God would be working to bring about these changes in Melissa’s life. I didn’t know that God would work in my children’s hearts, to the point my own son told me that he was praying for a new mom. I didn’t know God would work through friends and pastors to encourage me to give Melissa a call. I didn’t know how perfect a fit she would be in my life and that my kids would absolutely love her.

A year ago, I just didn’t know what the future would look like.

But even then, in the depths of that dark valley, what I did know was that my God was good. Robyn knew that too. We talked of that to each other. We talked of it to the nurses and friends who visited. It’s probably a strange thing to hear a terminally ill woman speak that way. It’s probably unexpected to her husband affirm the same, even if through tears. But one day, as we look back, we will all confirm that God has been good and done no wrong to us. Though He take us through the valley, yet still we will praise Him. For He truly is good.

Sometimes God blesses with abundant kindness. A kindness that goes beyond what you could dream or pray for. The kind of plans that you would never pick if you were given the choice, but not because the plan is bad. No, it is because it is so good that you can’t think it up on your own. It’s the perfect and yet unexpected gift that only God could give.

How do I end this meditation on the year anniversary of Robyn’s death? Simple. God is good. Whether you are in the valley, barely hanging on. Or on the mountain top, celebrating with joy. Whether you are brought low or abound, whether you face hunger or plenty. God is good. Your situation might change, but God’s character stays the same. The day your spouse departs, or a year later. God is still good.

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Philippians 3: 10-13

¹⁰ I rejoiced in the Lord greatly that now at length you have revived your concern for me. You were indeed concerned for me, but you had no opportunity. ¹¹ Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. ¹² I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. ¹³ I can do all things through him who strengthens me.