The Christian Life Done Right

Because Michael made such an impact on so many people, we knew that we would not be able to hold his visitation, or his memorial service, in our small community church.  He was the campus architect for Belhaven University and had established a wonderful relationship with the school's president, Dr. Roger Parrott.  Dr. Parrott offered for us to have both of the events on their campus at the Belhaven Center for the Arts.   The building was originally a large church, then Michael did the renovation plan to transform it into the Center for the Arts, when it came under the ownership of Belhaven University.  It seats about 900 people, but they had to close the doors forty-five minutes before the starting time and turn hundreds more away.

When Michael had redesigned the layout of the sanctuary for them, he was brainstorming with Dr. Parrott all of the different uses for which the space could be utilized.  He told him that the flow would even work for a funeral, if ever needed.  How ironic, then, that Michael’s was the first funeral ever held in that space….about 9 years later.

Dr. Parrott spoke at the opening of the “celebration” service, as many people have begun to call it, since it was a wonderful celebration of his life.  He wrote a beautiful piece about Michael called “The Christian Life Done Right”.  He clearly articulated Michael’s well- rounded life.  It is a truthful representation of how he lived from his passions. He posted it on his blog at the University’s website.  You will understand my loss and my children’s loss of their father better after having read it.  Michael lived his life right. 

A Note

This week I began to read back through some of the cards and letters that I have received,  I had received so many, that I had them organized into different piles.... need to record address, require thank you, or to be saved.  I was reading through some of the ones to be saved because I had not fully read all of them, since  there were so many.  Some of them would quickly move me to tears and cause me to ponder what they had  said.  I received a short note from a good friend of my brother's earlier this week.  Even though it was short, it moved my heart greatly. (Thank you, Bob C., for your  kind words.)

He said, "My Father once told me that what allows one to hurt so much, is the ability to love so powerfully.  Most people will never experience these two conflicting feelings.  You and Michael were graced."  It took my breath away. Because we loved so powerfully, and were so free with our love, we had much more at stake for pain.  We had stripped ourselves bare without any inhibitions of sharing our love for each other.  In doing so, we were also allowing ourselves to be vulnerable to a greater pain. I think that these two conflicting feelings are most present when you live your life with passion and from your passions.  Yes, we were graced.  God brought us together to make beautiful music through living our lives together. Sometimes, when I think about our lives together, it is almost like watching a movie in my memory.  There are no words, just us living life with a beautifully scored musical piece playing while I watch the action.  We loved powerfully. When we hurt, we cried and shared our pain with one another in a powerful way.  This is the most powerful pain I have ever encountered.  This must mean we loved powerfully.

A Flat Tire

My daughter's car was showing a low tire alert this week.  I did not pay much attention to it because it would often light up when nothing was wrong or if there was a sudden change in air temperature.  This morning, I left to go get gas and pick up some lunch for us.  She was going to have to leave for work about the same time I would be returning.  When I got out of my car in our driveway, I walked around to take a look at the tire on her car that the car computer was showing was low.  Overnight, it had gone completely flat.  I had already had a busy morning.  I had just spent two hours at the car dealership with my car getting the oil changed, tires rotated, and a few other things checked.  I had been strong all morning and had handled all of the necessary business without any tears, just the usual heaviness and sadness.  When I saw the tire, I felt myself suddenly losing all of that control.  I realized that I did not have Michael to call for help. No matter where he was or what he would have been doing at the moment, he would have given me the time and would have said, "Babe, I'll take care of it and call you right back." Not that I am not capable of handling it, it was just something that he would have handled.  I prayed out loud asking God who should I call.  Immediately, Tim's name came to mind.... one of Michael's close friends.  He and his wife,  in addition to a circle of other close friends, have been available to me nonstop these last 9 weeks.  I called his cell phone, and, even though he was in a meeting, he answered.  I could not hold in the tears any more and began to cry.  Through the tears, I told him it was just a flat tire and I did not know what to do.  He immediately said he would take care of it.  He called me right back to tell me that someone was on the way and he would be here shortly to check on it himself.

The truck showed up in less than ten minutes and the man brought everything he needed to fix it or put on a spare.  He fixed the tire, which had a screw bit stuck in it, and checked the air in all of the other tires.  By the time Tim got there, the job was done and the workman was gone.   Tim came in and I cried some more.  We talked about car stuff and he renewed my AAA membership for me, which had just expired this month.  He helped me walk through what to do if I ever have anything happen again and am not around home.   I was so thankful for this dear friend and for his willingness to help me in such a weak moment.

It was just a flat tire.  My brain completely shifted into neutral and I did not know what to do.  Michael and I were both good at doing something when there was an established system.  We had systems to our marriage.  There were certain areas that he handled and certain areas that I handled.  Not that either of us were not able to operate the other person's systems, we just had smooth agreements of which responsibilities fell to which person.  That is what made us a good team.  Car issues were never in my world, until today.  Having to suddenly face a task that had always clearly been in his world, sent me into a fresh state of missing him.  He was not there to call for help.... but God..... He heard my prayer and directed me to the right friend who was able to handle it at that very moment.  The daily tasks of life, that are seemingly no big deal, are a big deal.  I am slowly learning all of his systems for the responsibilities that he had taken off of me and now are on my plate.  The plate is getting larger. God is enabling me by His power and His grace. This is my reminder...  I am more than a conqueror through Christ... through Him who loved me. (Romans 8:37)

Pain Increased

Over the last two weeks, I have noticed that the pain of yearning for Michael’s presence has increased.  Instead of beginning to feel better, I am feeling worse.  I know that one day, the severity of the pain will begin to lift, but I was not prepared to actually begin to miss him even more.  The words I have been using to describe it is that "the vacation is over."  I was away from him for almost two months once in our marriage, while I was in France with the children.  I have now been separated from him longer than that.  It has felt like we have been on a vacation, but not a beautiful one…. no real schedule, not having to cook, not caring about clothes being put away, lots of hanging out with friends, etc.  It has felt like we have just been separated from him, but now it feels like he is really gone.  It still seems so unreal… unreal that something so bad could happen to good people.  I glanced at a recent family photograph that was taken at a family wedding.  It was all of us all dressed up, with our foster child, Keagan, standing in front of us, and we all looked so happy.  We had all enjoyed ourselves so much that night.  All of the kids danced, Michael and I danced together while he held Keagan, and we slow danced together by ourselves.  It was a happy night.  In the photo, Michael is looking straight into the camera almost laughing.  Her never smiled that big in pictures before.  He would always smile, but hardly ever show his teeth.  He was full of joy that night.  I saw that picture and immediately started crying.  I really had thought that nothing like this would ever happen to us.  How could this happen to something that was so right, so beautiful? It was just a sudden, uncontrollable thought. 

Thankfully, I have not been filled with many “whys”.  I truly am thankful for the life we had with him.  I am thankful for everything he was to me and the children.  I really do feel blessed to have had the 24 years that we had together.  Even Michael Anthony said this in his prayer one night last week.  He thanked God for the time he had with his dad.  I have been reminded of something that my brother-in-law said to me about a year ago.  As I have mentioned before, he lost his wife two years ago to breast cancer.  He and I were talking one day in our kitchen and were reminiscing about the day that he met her and the day that Michael and I met each other.  Even though his brother was 12 years older than him, they each got married the same year and had their first two children the same years.  He had not realized, until that day, that they also had both met their mates in the same place, Poets.  He looked at me and said, “What I would give to walk back into Poets and meet her all over again.”  I cried when he spoke those words that day and I would cry any time I told the story to some one else.   I now have the same thoughts.  What I would give to walk back into Poets and meet Michael all over again…. If I could live my life all over again, I would live it with him all over again… exactly the same way.  Oh, how I miss him. I miss serving him.  I miss doing all of the little things that made him happy. What an honor and privilege it was.

Grief vs. Fear

Today, I picked up the book, A Grief Observed, by C.S. Lewis,  given to me by a friend to read.  I read the first paragraph and suddenly stopped and thought, "That is exactly it."  C.S. Lewis begins with these words,

"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.  I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid.  The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the same yawning.  I keep swallowing.  At other times, it feels like being mildly drunk or concussed.  There is sort of an invisible blanket between the world and me.  I find it hard to take in what anyone says.  Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in.  It is so uninteresting.  Yet, I want to the others to be about me."

I have been trying to sort out all of the physical symptoms that I have been feeling these past two months.  It feels like fear but not one hundred percent.  My body feels like it is stricken with fear but without an object of which to be fearful. When I read C.S. Lewis mention the swallowing, I was relieved to know that it was not just me.  Sometimes my tongue will keep swallowing and I can't make it stop.  Other times, I feel the need to swallow but my throat feels paralyzed and cannot move a muscle.  The stronger the feeling of grief, the more paralyzed my throat.  I first experienced this on February 23 at 3:30 in the morning.  (Understand that what I am about to share was the absolute hardest moment of all of this and thinking about it creates the same feelings.  I want to get beyond that memory.  I want to not remember every detail.  I want to forget the faces of the officials at my door.  I want to forget the sound of the dog barking in the early morning hours.  As with everything else that I have written, I am hoping that by writing about it, it will help with that process.)

I was sleeping with my windows open because the weather was so pleasant.  My son was sleeping in bed with me, as he did occasionally when Michael was out of town.  Michael was only going to be gone one night.  We both awoke to the dog barking.  We ignored it for a few minutes but she kept on barking.  We then heard voices outside, since our windows were open.  I jumped up and looked out the window that overlooks the front patio and saw an unfamiliar car parked in front of my house.  I grabbed the phone and dialed 911 while I was checking my security pad to make sure the alarm was on.  The pad had been malfunctioning and I could not get it to set or get the emergency alarm to go off.  With 911 on the phone, I looked out the window and noticed two people standing at my front door.  One of them was an officer.  While talking to the operator, I asked them to identify themselves.  The man told me he was with the Hinds county sheriff's department.  The woman identified herself as someone representing Tunica county.  I immediately could not swallow.  Michael was spending the night in Tunica doing marketing calls in north Mississippi that evening and was continuing on the next morning before coming home for dinner the next evening.... we were going to be taking our foster child's parents out to dinner since it was the night before his custody hearing.   I told the operator that I did not need her, told my son to stay in bed, grabbed my robe, and flew down to the front door.  As I opened the door, my ears began to burn.  I opened it to see their faces staring blankly back at me.  They confirmed that I was Jene' Barranco and that they were at the correct address.  Their faces were blank with fear of speaking themselves.  They did not want to speak as much as I did not want to hear.  The woman spoke first, "We have a fatality to report."  From that point on, I felt all of my blood drop down to my feet.  My whole body felt paralyzed, just like it does under extreme fear.  I could not move a muscle on my face.  The inability to swallow was strong.  I felt like I had to focus my whole body just to make my throat muscles do what they usually do instinctively.  I felt the need to swallow but, at the same time, my mouth had gone suddenly completely dry.  I was suffocating.  I immediately thought it was a mistake and that someone had stolen his new car.  Then they asked me, "Are there any children in the house?"  The fear feeling intensified as I realized all that was at stake.  I replied while looking into their eyes with desperation for help, "Four... Three of our own and a 5 year old foster child."  They asked if they could come in while I made a phone call to the police commander in the Tunica office and also called a family member. I could not think. I could not speak. I could not swallow.  I did not feel like I was even breathing.  When asked a question, all I could seem to say was, "Um".  Those feelings continued for the rest of that day and have lingered on through out all of my days since at different levels of intensity.

I was amazed at how all of my physical symptoms had lined up so completely with the description by C.S. Lewis.  I have periods during the day when I am able to focus on the life that needs to continue moving on and other moments when the feelings completely wash over me.  The restlessness and the fluttering of the stomach occur mostly at night, but also during business meetings about the accident or insurance, and sometimes in unexpected moments.... like spotting a photograph of the two of us when I was not looking for it.  I have quoted  2 Timothy 1:7 frequently during these times.  "For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, of love, and of a sound mind."  I taught these words to my children from the time they could talk.  It is a good reminder that , "greater is He that is in me than he that is in the world."  I don't know how people walk this road without an understanding and a relationship with a Saviour  in Jesus Christ, a Comforter in the Holy Spirit, and an all powerful God in the heavens who has a plan for our lives.

It's a Long Road

Have I mentioned how hard this is?  I mean really hard.  Every minute of every day is hard.  Every breath I take is hard.  My breathing patterns have not been this same since Michael died.  It is always shallow, and at the same time I feel like there is something heavy weighing on my chest.  All day long, I tell myself, "Take a deep breath."  Throughout the day, another reminder, "Just breathe.  Inhale deeply.  Now exhale."  I am now convinced that, unless someone has lost a loved one so very dear to them, as Michael was to me, they have no idea how grief manifests itself in our physical bodies, how long it takes, the agony that is experienced, and how all consuming it is. I had no idea, until now, how it feels to lose someone you love with all of your heart.  (Lord, forgive me if I was ever not compassionate enough, or even long enough, to someone in my walk of life who was grieving.)  I cry daily.  Sometimes a little here and a little there, and sometimes I will cry hard.  I already mentioned how last week was a tough week but Friday was the hardest of all of the days.  I am not sure why.  Maybe because the whole week had been tough and I was exhausted, maybe it was because I had a sweet friend sit down with me and listened, asked questions, and allowed me to cry.  Maybe it was because Michael always took off from work on Good Friday.  It was an important day for him. Maybe it was just because grieving is a very long, painful road.  There are no shortcuts on this journey.  People have tried shortcuts but then the wound shows up later in life because it did not heal properly.  It is a journey that we must take slowly, experience the pain, meditate on the loss, sit down occasionally when we are weak, slowly stand and move when we are able, and see and feel everything along the way.  I seem to begin to fall apart when life begins to get to busy and I start to feel rushed along the road.... errands, sports, lessons, appointments, etc.  I still need time daily just to be quiet.  I feel robbed at the end of the day if I don't get a time set apart for me to be still.

Sometimes my quiet moments come at unexpected times and in unexpected places. Like today, in the closet.  I was picking out a tie for Michael Anthony to wear to church. It was the Easter morning rush.  I decided to pull out one of Michael's because he had such beautiful ties.  To him, the right tie made an outfit, like the perfect pair of shoes does for a woman.  I went into the closet with my mind focused on the task at hand and began to look through all of his choices.  I felt my movements begin slow down.  I took my time touching them, looking at them, remembering what he wore with each one, how handsome he looked in suits, how he beamed when I told him so, how important the right tie was to him, and how strong he looked in a tie.  It was perfectly quiet in my closet.  All I could hear was the light bulb above me.  I lingered in that moment.  I longed to see him dressing for church and tying the knot in his tie.  I emerged with two fabulous ties and felt like I had just had a little rest stop on the road of grief.  I let Michael Anthony pick which one he liked best.  Thankfully, I know how to tie a tie because I  was in high school in the eighties, when it was stylish for girls to wear thin ties.  It was not as good as his father would have done, but it did the job.

It is a long road.  To my friends and family, please hang in there with me.  Allow me to take my time, handle me with care, hug me, listen - not too much advice, love, pray often,  join me when I stop to rest, and remember this great man with me and what a great loss it is to not have him with us in this life.  Yes, it is heaven's gain, but we are still on this earthly journey towards heaven, and it hurts.

Random Grief

I have had a very arduous week  filled with necessary business meetings with insurance companies, doctors, Boy Scout troop leaders, Social Security personnel, financial planners, and more. I have grieved for him greatly this week.  The heaviness of all of the meetings and discussing all of the issues is much harder than it appears.  Any time I have to discuss the business matters, the accident, insurance, etc., my insides begin to burn.  It starts in the pit of my stomach then radiates up to my ears.  I cannot put into words the emotions I am feeling during those times.  It takes several to say it all... lonely, exposed, somewhat fearful, insecure, scared... like a child lost at an amusement park.  It can make me feel small.  I had so many friends lifting me up in prayer this week and God answered the prayers by allowing me to take one thing at a time and each meeting was not as bad as I had anticipated them to be.  Oh, I still cried plenty of tears and felt some weight, but it felt bearable.  I feel like my grieving was random this week.  I could not put my finger one thing, but I just felt the grief everywhere.  Everywhere I turned, there it was.  I was inside Walgreen's yesterday picking up some medicine for Julia and the pharmacist asked if I had a new insurance card because the one they had on file did not work.  I told her yes, and pulled out my new one.  She asked if there were other people insured that she could go ahead and make the changes on the computer.  I told her yes, my three children.  She wrote down their names with the last one being Michael Anthony Jr.  Noticing the Jr.,  she asked if their father was insured on this card as well.  I said, "No. He passed away. It was in his name but was changed over to mine." I had to answer her so quickly, then, after I said it, I felt like I had just experienced a blind sided tackle.  Here came the body heat.  The tears rose up and filled my eyes.  I was suddenly searching for my pack of tissues in my purse to catch the tears that were already streaming down.

Each morning, as I dressed for the day and anticipated the meetings of the day, I missed his strength.  We anchored one another.  I felt the weight of carrying out these responsibilities without him. I cried while I was getting ready.  When I can't pin point the feelings I am having, I cry more.  This week, I just missed Michael and needed him all across the board.  Random grief.  The book I am reading now, not often lately, is Wendell Berry's, Hannah Coulter.  I picked it up recently and the page that I "happened" to be held this very profound thought.  I feel it is very appropriate to me this week.  Hannah has been telling her life story, catching up the reader to her present life.  She has gone back to tell the story of losing her husband in the war while living with her in-laws....
 
"I began to know my story then.  Like everybody's, it was going to be the story of living in the absence of the dead.  What is the thread that holds it all together?  Grief, I thought for awhile.  And grief is there sure enough, just about all the way through.  From the time I was a girl, I have never been far from it.  But grief is not a force and has no power to hold.  You only bear it.  Love is what carries you, for it is always there, even in the dark, or most in the dark, but shining out at times like gold stitches in a piece of embroidery.  Sometimes too I can see that love is a great room with a lot of doors, where we are invited to knock and come in.  Though it contains all the world, the sun, moon, and stars, it is so small as to be also in our hearts.  It is in the hearts of those who choose to come in.  Some do not come in.  Some may stay out forever.  Some come in together and leave separately.  Some come in and stay, until they die, and after."

Love is carrying me.  Michael's love and the love of those that remain.  We walked into that great room together.  What a beautiful room it was. Our love shines out like the golden stitches.  These lovely thoughts help me turn my random grief to a focused love of a lifetime.