Hero

I sold our Tahoe this week, Baby. Somehow, I think you know that. I keep moving forward, trying to build this new life for myself that aches to have you still a part of it. I have no choice. I know what I have to do—I just hate doing it without you.

Now I'm driving a silver 2020 Tahoe. Kate came along as moral support when I made the decision. I’ll be safe now when I’m driving across the desert. And to Florida next month to say good-bye to you along with your family and ours. I can barely even think of that. The worst trip I’ve ever had to make and this time I’ll be doing it without you beside me.

Katy and I rushed to clean out the old truck the other night, shoving everything inside a couple of insulated freezer bags from Costco that were in the back end. All the random odds and ends that always wind up crammed inside a vehicle you’ve driven nearly 300,000 miles. I didn’t know the salesman would let me take the new Tahoe home the same day. I was unprepared. Kind of the story of my life this year.

Last night, while I talked with Lee, I sorted through it all, tossing outdated receipts and duplicate umbrellas. I had three of those. Three umbrellas when we get less than seven inches of rain here in the desert. Either I’m ignorant or hopelessly optimistic. It feels more like the former at the moment. Optimism is tough for me right now. Lee and I were busy talking and laughing over the random experiences of the day when I pulled your leather gloves out of that Costco bag. I caressed them the way I did your hand that last night in the hospital. And then I stopped laughing.

Two pair of your sunglasses appeared next. I knew these things were there, hidden deep inside the old console. I couldn’t bring myself to part with them. I still can’t. I tried to laugh about the shades you were always losing track of. I told Lee how I filled your Christmas stocking one year with enough sunglasses to keep your eyes protected for at least two years, and how you lost every one of them by the middle of March. You were always misplacing your sunglasses. I’m not misplacing these. They’re in my drawer now alongside that photo of you kissing me by the lake. Treasures.

Lee and I both got choked up as I told him all the things I was pulling out that were part of our road trips and day to day driving places together. We loved traveling together, didn’t we? Finally, when I’d sorted through it all, I took a deep breath and told him that was harder than when I had to clean out our bedroom in Heber. All the little things represented a million memories that burst into my vision, stealing my breath, filling my eyes with tears. We’ll never travel together again.

This is grief. Every day, new pieces of a life I'm forced to file away float to the surface of this new existence like the debris field of the Titanic. I gather them up, save what I can, weep over the rest. Every day I unearth another piece of truth, not because I want to but because making decisions like buying my first vehicle without you shoves it right in my face. I can’t take it in all at once, the knowledge that you’re gone forever. I can write it here. Stare at the words. Check the spelling. But grasping it’s full implication all at once would kill me.

So, debris field it is.

I’m alone at the house at the moment. I went in to play the piano you bought for me fifteen years ago. Another treasure you left for me. We’re making plans to build a casita here at Dan and Katy’s for me to live. The little house is designed around the baby grand. You’d be so proud of Katy’s kiddos’ ability at the piano, baby. I can’t come close to playing as well as the girls do. But I pulled out one of their books just now and the page opened to a song that always made me think of you. Remember how I always told you you’re my hero? That when I grow up, I want to be just like you? My knight in shining armor, KINSA, I called you. I sat at the piano and played that piece, sorrow embellishing every note as I did. Soon, that sensitive dog of ours was at my side, licking my hands where the tears were falling. He always knows. 

God, how I miss you.

I’m glad for your gloves and your sunglasses and your wedding ring and anything that makes you seem even a tiny bit close. All the little things that show up and make me cry that were a part of you and that life we shared that's gone. With every single fiber of my being, I miss you. You were always confident about my love for you. It's one of the things I admired about you, your confidence. In life. In Christ. And even in death. You knew who you were. You reminded me of who I am. You loved me like Jesus.

My KINSA. I'm going to keep moving forward, trying to make you proud. I know, if the tables were turned, you'd be doing the same. You taught me so much, Baby.

You’re still my hero.

It might have appeared to go unnoticed
But I’ve got it all here in my heart
I want you to know I know the truth
I would be nothing without you

. . . You were the one with all the strength.

Did you ever know that you’re my hero?
And everything I would like to be.
I could fly higher than an eagle
'Cause you were the wind beneath my wings.

Thank God for you
You were the wind beneath my wings.