It's ok to thrive

I had a conversation with a friend while we were walking a few weeks ago. We talked about a lot of things, including why I was avoiding sitting down to write the book I've had on my heart for the past 3 1/2 years:

Me: It's just really hard and painful and emotionally draining. I just don't want to go back to the horror of 4 years ago.

Friend: If I were to read a book like yours I would want the writer to REFLECT on, not relive, what she went through.

You guys! REFLECT! It has had such a profound effect on how I have grieved Aaron this year. I typically refer to the 2 weeks from December 27th until January 9th as my "dark weeks." The flashbacks of the last weeks of Aaron's life as he died of cancer. Random crying fits. Frustration and anger. Depression. Dark.

Tomorrow, January 9, 2017, will be Aaron's 4th Heaven Day. My grief process has been incredibly different this year. Sure, I've had my dark moments but not weeks or even days; Moments. I realized that Aaron isn't more honored, remembered, or loved if I fix my mind on every little detail of 4 years ago. Yes, this was the day the only thing he could say was my name in a strained whisper. Yes, this was the day he became so weak he could no longer move his head. Yes, this is the day our family sat in my son's room as the fabulous hospice nurses put in a catheter (the one thing he was terrified of). All those things, and more, happened 4 years ago.

HOWEVER, that is not today. I don't have to relive those days. I already lived them firsthand the first time around. I can reflect on them: what I learned, the sweet moments where my priorities and purpose were crystal clear, the blessings (yes, you read that right) in the moments among the tragedy.

Does it mean it doesn't hurt? Does it mean that I don't miss Aaron? Does it mean I'm glad he isn't here? Absolutely NOT! It hurts and I miss him and I wish we never had to go through what we went through...but we did. It all happened and no number of tears can change that.

REFLECT. It hit me that when I relive, I miss out on what is happening now, here, with my 5 year old Benjamin. There were tears to dry today but they were because he was tired, not because his daddy lives in Heaven. And that is ok.

It's ok, ladies and gentlemen. It's ok to not have remembered until 10 pm as I turned out the light on January 7th that it was the last day I heard Aaron's real voice. It's ok for Benjamin to miss me at school and it have nothing to do with Aaron. It's ok to be moving forward, doing well, feeling joyful. It's ok.

It's more than ok. When I live a vibrant life, it honors Aaron's memory: a man full of fun and joy and life. When I thrive in my new normal, it honors God: my Creator Who continues to give me life, has carried me through the darkest moments, and has more for my son and me than I can even imagine.

Yes, the scar still hurts, but not all the time. And that's ok.