Sunday, August 4, 2013

Anger brewing.

One year... one year...

The one year marker haunts me. There is now nothing else in the way.  I have crossed into the 12th month and have no hope of avoiding the devastating milestone before me, the anniversary of my husband's death.

I have a lot to face in the next month, but the thing most glaring and offensively rude before my face is test results. I have to call the medical services again, assuming they have finally finished the testing of Lynn's heart, and finally receive one of maybe three possible answers. #1. There is officially no known cause of death. #2. Lynn died of a genetic disease that was likely passed on to my daughters, which would require lots of tests and monitoring (which I suppose we are doing already "just in case") in the event that they too could drop dead suddenly and unexpectedly... and #3. His death was stress related, some sort of heart attack?  Are there any other options? I'm not sure. Please don't inform me of them if you are aware of some. I will know what I need to know soon enough.

I used wait for this phone call, imagining that in the middle of a regular day, the phone would ring, and someone on the other end would say, Mrs. Erskine? I am calling from the medical examination department and I have here the tests results of your husbands heart... I regret to inform you that your husband died of...??? In my mind, I would drop to my knees, lose my grip on the phone, hear it bounce on the hardwood floor, and scream. This "vision" did not ever come to pass, however. Months went by, more months went by... I tried to reach them before the move and they still did not seem to have anything for me. What do you mean??? You've had my husbands heart for how many months?? How can you just keep his heart, do your tests, and tell me nothing??? He has a family you know!?!?  He has parents and siblings!!! 

I have a lot of anger waiting to be unleashed upon the finding of these results. If it is option #1, I will unleash the anger incapsulated in the relentless question of WHY??? and recognize that I will never know, will never understand, will never be satisfied with answers as to the abrupt end of our life together... If it is option #2, I will likely squelch my anger with practicality and sober minded acceptance, taking on the role of nurturer and overly protective mother, until the Lord convicts me of my faithlessness and brings me to a place of peace... Option #3, is I think the least likely, but also the most terrifying.  It is terrifying because it unleashes a terrible anger that I have been holding in, saving in my waiting, irrationally ready to explode towards any thing or circumstance that may have contributed to this end. There will be anger towards our church and ministry, towards family, towards the whole worldly system that allows Christ followers to get into financial debt following a call into ministry, encourage them to give their lives in service to the gospel, held in such high and noble esteem, then criticize and judge them at every turn, and pay them less than they can afford so they struggle and are burdened by debt for the rest of their lives... Yes, I am angry about these things and more.  And yes, I have been holding it in, waiting...

The brunt of my irrational anger will be towards Lynn. I know Andrew's story. I know how Lynn struggled, even to the point of giving up his runners belt. If I find out that Lynn pushed himself to his own death, I will be REALLY ANGRY. It is wholly irrational, but I have thoughts like, What if Lynn had smartened up and taken a break? What if he had recognized the degree to which he was struggling and acknowledged it, in humility pulling off to the side and catching his breath...? Would fate have changed? Would he still be alive? Did he stubbornly push his body to limits beyond what his heart could withstand, when instead, he could have just rested?

These are big questions in a little widows mind. But soon, I will face them, head on. Soon, I will have some answer to pass along to his family in the States, to my daughters...

And in the meantime... anger is a brewing.

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