My husband, Ed, died suddenly on August 15, 2012. I find it helpful to write my thoughts, questions, and confusion into letters to him. Sometimes I can “hear” his answers. At the beginning, I never dreamed this grief journey could be so long, that the world could be so dark, that I could feel such unrelenting sorrow. Now, however, when I reread these letters, I see that behind the grief hope still lived.
Hang on to hope and faith and love.
— Beverley Shirley
November 8, 2012
For a moment, I thought the sun was shining on me today. It seemed bright and warm. Fleetingly.
I wanted to share it with you. We could roll down the car windows and talk about sunny places we had visited. Or wanted to visit.
Then darkness engulfed me again.
Before – The sun shone from your eyes. Brightness was your smile. Warmth was your touch.
That you and I are torn apart is grief. Yet, in its dichotomous way, grief connects me to you. Because I love you, I grieve. When I grieve, I feel that love. Grief and love bound in a circle.
What does that mean for me? The grief is me. If it is me, I can control it. I have the power to transform this shroud of darkness into the glimmer of your smile. I just need faith, strength, and courage.
Send me a little each, please.
You have faith, strength, and courage. On top of all that, God is with you. You have our families and many friends. Altogether we are a Communion. Communion is not broken by death. Rejoice in our Communion. Dance in the sun.
© Beverley Shirley 2012
Beverley Shirley attends the Loss of Spouse and the Moving On groups at the Christi Center. She works for the Texas State Library to support Texas libraries and improve library services. Her son and daughter-in-law, her family and friends are treasures.