9 months.

9 months...

When I think of 9 months, I automatically think of crawling!  Typically, 9 months in the life of a baby marks the age when he/she begins to crawl... Of course, these age-markers are only slightly beneficial to the parent in regards to their infant's development.  But still, I'm wondering if the parallel fits...  Is that where I'm at in this first year of harsh realities?  Am I learning to crawl??

I so clearly remember that day... (You've heard much of it before.)

I remember sitting in the choir loft, beaming inwardly, so proud of my husband as he spoke from the piano about God's faithfulness and His ability to provide for others in need through the generosity of the church.  I remember getting home, having lunch, Lynn anxious to run, but my urging him to wait and check in with Andrew in case they could run together... Lynn was hesitant to change his plans after already mapping everything out on his IPod, but gladly adjusted as soon as Andrew gave the word that he could run later that evening.  Alea napped, and Lynn took Roya to Tim Hortons for a Daddy-daughter date.  (I don't remember what I did...) Then, later in the afternoon, we all snuggled on the couch together to watch the Muppets, something that was becoming a family favorite, carried over from Lynn's childhood.  I can still picture it, hear the sounds, feel the comfort of being together, sincerely enjoying each other's company. I had felt so nervous approaching another busy Fall, but was flying high from our truly rejuvenating vacation at Janice's cottage.  What fun we'd had together!!

I remember making supper and noticing that twice Lynn shivered, like a chill coursing through his body, saying Oohh! I have such nervous energy about my run tonight! Hmmm. Odd, I thought.  We both looked at each other knowing it was odd, but no real red flags showing any sign of danger... We ate supper.  I started settling the girls for a bath and bedtime while Lynn got ready for his run.  (I tend to remember him in his black running outfit, but he definitely had on his pale blue running shirt that day... I can still picture it laying shredded at his sides around his pale, lifeless body in the emergency room...)

Lynn said good night to the girls, kissed me goodbye as always, we said Love you! as always, and then we waved through the window as he took off down the street...

Normally, we'd have been having house church at that time, but we'd just returned from vacation and decided to wait until the next week to start up again.  So off he went!! Running half of his 32k by himself before meeting up with Andrew for the second half...

Later that night, I sat in bed reading.  The girls were sound asleep in the room across the hall.  Tears streamed down my face as I read about a widow, having flashbacks of her husband's death while she witnessed a beloved friendly father-figure having a severe heart attack, his wife clinging to him, weeping... I set the book aside, wiped my eyes.  Oh my!!  I smiled to myself as I looked at the time.  Oh Lynn, always talking and carrying on.  I pictured him laughing with Andrew and Sara, drinking water and eating snacks after their long run, gathered around the island in their family kitchen... I went to the bathroom and heard the phone ring.  Oh that's probably Lynn, telling me he's on his way home.  I checked the number on the phone and sure enough!  The Boone's :)  I guess I'll call back just to see... Sara answered.  That's strange, I thought.

Hi Natasha, Lynn's not doing very well...  Okay.  Is he taking any medications? No. Would you like me to come be with the girls to relieve you?  Why Sara, Why?  I don't understand what's happening? ...the paramedics are pounding on his chest.  The paramedics will meet you at the hospital...

My body physically trembles recalling the details of this day.  How can such basic, simple, everyday details, become so meaningful and powerful in the wake of death's devastation?  Waves of shock still course through my being.  I will never recover from the death of my husband.  Death is not to be recovered from.  I sometimes want to scream at the world for treating grief like a common cold.  Oh, just let it run its course and you'll recover soon enough... No. Death is final. It is an immoveable milestone in a person's life.

Grief is not an ailment to recover from.  It is a deep wound that requires a deep healing and leaves a deep scar... One that we can only hope and pray will become a beautiful marking of testimony and strength in days to come.  No doctor can heal this wound.  Only the Maker, the one who formed us in our mother's womb, the one who knows our sitting and our rising, and every thought before it reaches our tongue (for some quicker than others!)... Only can He can untangle the complexities of grief and bring peace, joy, and love to the soul once again.