It’s been a while since I’ve written a brand new blog post. I felt I had nothing new to say, as I’d previously poured my heart out and shared all the wisdom I could think of to help others who are going through a devastating medical diagnosis, caregiving, preparing for the loss of a loved one, grief, and/or moving forward with life.
And then Thursday, Friday, and Sunday happened.
You’ve lost someone very special to you. Time has passed, and you want to move forward with your life—but how do you do that?
I was widowed in 2016 at age 56, with a lot of life to live still ahead of me. My life has greatly changed since I began moving forward. Because of my husband’s cancer journey and subsequent death, I am suddenly a published author and am becoming a public speaker*—two things I would never have thought I would be in a million years. Sharing our story and helping others brings me joy.
I’m a little more than five and a half years into my grief, but I am still a work in progress. I’m not always strong and don’t always have it all together.
After my husband died, I couldn’t wait to attend a GriefShare class because I wanted to start dealing with my grief in the best way possible as soon as I could. After his death, I attended two full semesters of GriefShare.* No, I didn’t fail the class the first time, and I didn’t see it as a weakness to attend a second time. I saw it as a sign of strength because I wanted to do everything in my power to help me through my grief. Plus, I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything in case I was in a fog the first time. I also wanted to see how far I had progressed. Here are some tips that may help you work through your own grief.
I was sitting in the banker’s office when I was ambushed. Not by a bank robber, but by words on her computer monitor. It was in big bold lettering at the top of the huge screen: “CHRIS HAGA, DECEASED. DATE OF DEATH 6-25-2016.
I had not been in denial at all. I had been terminating all of Chris’ accounts for a couple of weeks and had no problem telling people that he had passed away and the date of his death. It was administrative work that I had tackled as if I were working for my bookkeeping clients. (It was during that period when I was numb and just robot-like did what needed to be done.) But seeing it in bold letters on a financial document glaring at me, the finality of my husband’s life hit me smack in the face. This was my husband’s death we were dealing with, not just an administrative matter. When the banker looked up, tears were streaming down my face. She understandingly handed me a tissue and waited for me to regain my composure.
Now that we are starting a new year, I’ve decided it’s time to look back and reflect on the five and a half years since Chris died on 6/25/2016. Where am I now? How did I get here?
It hasn’t always been an easy road, but much easier than I anticipated because of the help I have received along the way—not only from family, long-time friends, and new friends—but especially with God’s guidance.
I lost more than just a husband when Chris died. I lost my best friend, my confidante, provider, lover, advisor, spiritual leader, companion, encourager, inspiration, errand runner, driver, handyman, cook, chore helper, yard worker, support system, and bug killer. I remember the first time I had to capture a gecko that found its way into the house, I broke down and cried. That was Chris’ job to get rid of unwanted creatures. Even the simple things that Chris always handled like checking the car’s tire pressure or replacing the battery in the garage door keypad had me in tears. (I didn’t know the thing even ran on batteries.)
If a family member or someone you care about has been diagnosed with a terminal illness, it can be difficult to process what will happen. After a while, many individuals come to terms with the eventual loss they will face. With that, many are forced to examine what loose ends they will need to tie up, from handling legal affairs to developing a support network for themselves and others. Haga Books of Faith invites you to learn more about what you can do to ease this transition with these suggestions in mind.
The evening of June 24, 2016, Chris was comatose. The nurse told me he may pass that night. Time ticked on. I had an hour of sleep in the last two days, and our sons had traveled from afar to be with their dad.
“Come on, Chris, we’re so tired. What are you waiting for?” I asked during the wee hours the next morning. It sounded callous, and my words shocked everyone, including myself. Exhaustion had taken over.
The hours continued to pass.
“Jesus, hurry up. Just take me now!” Chris begged.
By June 23, 2016, Chris was out of breath just standing. He was ready for the end to come. It was agonizing to watch him struggling, but it also made it easier for me to be willing to let him go. It didn’t appear God intended to heal him this time. He couldn’t ride his bike, do photography, eat, sleep, or work. He didn’t even have the stamina to stand up. His food, water, and breathing were restricted. He had absolutely no pleasures or quality of life left.
“I feel like God has abandoned me. Why isn’t He answering?” asked Chris.
It finally dawned on me.
Today would have been our 36th wedding anniversary. I still miss Chris so much. But I have peace because I can see the bigger picture, especially after writing about our journey through cancer.
Although we’ll never know exactly why God allowed Chris to have lung cancer, we were blessed to have experienced such an ordeal together. As trite and inconceivable as that might sound, it’s true. Our love for each other grew stronger. We learned to not take life or each other for granted. Each day became more treasured as God’s hand was revealed, even in difficult moments.
It’s hard to believe it’s been four years ago today when Chris passed away. Life has continued on and been filled with excitement with the marriage of our older son four months later and the birth of our first grandchild almost nine months ago. I’ve published two books and have been working on a big project the last two years (I’ll share more about that sometime).
On the downside, a close relative has had a return of metastatic cancer after almost 20 years of remission. A total shock. Then two nights ago I received a call from my cousin. Her husband had a massive stroke and is currently nonresponsive. Then there’s the COVID-19 pandemic the whole world is facing. We never know what may be in our future, do we?
I started cleaning house tonight, getting ready for family to come celebrate an early Christmas. Dusting the nativity scene, I stopped to pause and think about that little baby in the manger and the sole reason He was born. He was born to be the Savior for you and me.
If you’re missing a loved one due to health issues, or you’re about to lose someone, remember that cancer didn’t have the last word—God did. As our friend Tom Wohlgamuth said at the graveside service, “Chris didn’t lose his battle with cancer. Cancer lost its battle with Chris. When the cancer conquered his body, the cancer stopped living. It died. Forever. But Chris lives because Jesus conquered sin and death for us!”
This time of year has become a time of emotional struggle for me over the last three years. With Chris’ birthday in mid-November, followed by Thanksgiving and then Christmas, I really miss him during this season more than the rest of the year, simply because this is a time to be shared with those you love the most. I still haven’t been able to put up a Christmas tree because it would be a constant in-my-face reminder that Chris is missing. It was our annual tradition to take a family photo in front of the Christmas tree every year.
A dear friend suggested I read the Book of Luke in the Bible. There are 24 chapters about the life of Christ—from birth through his death, resurrection, and ascension into heaven. “If you read one chapter a day, that will take you to Christmas day.” It’s a beautiful reminder of what this season is all about.
