Yet, I still believe.
Two weeks ago my world was devastated and my life shattered. Everything I knew, everything I was, all my dreams, desires, and hopes just ended. I watched for several days as life slowly drained from someone who was so full of life just days before, I watched as a healing process quickly and drastically turned into a death spiral, and I watched as eyes once so full of life and energy slowly dimmed into darkness. I felt the warmth drain from her hands as I held them. And I was there in those final moments as she left and my heart was violently torn from my chest. Just like that, half of my life and all I was, ceased.
Yet, I still believe.
During those days I prayed, I worshipped, I begged, I bargained, I believed, I spoke life and healing, and I sowed every ounce of faith I had. Even as I saw the spiral begin, my faith did not waiver. I believed and spoke life, I believed and spoke faith, and I believed and spoke healing. I reminded Him and her of words spoken and futures shown. Yet in the end, for whatever reason, God’s design was not what I believed.
Yet, I still believe.
Two people died that night. My wife, Veronica, who was the best part of me, and the man she’d helped me become. I feel like half a person. The emptiness and loneliness is unbearable at times. The images of those days torment me and thoughts of what I might have done different; if another path could have saved her, haunt my waking moments. Chaotic and uncontrolled spirals invade my dreams, anxiety and fear trouble my mind, and PTSD walks beside me – taunting me. Shock still rules over me as I reach across the couch to stroke her arm or roll over in the bed to snuggle with her and she’s not there.
Yet, I still believe.
For 14 years she was my best friend. For the last 11 and a half she was my wife, my other half. The one God sent me to help me fulfill His purpose for our lives. During all that time we barely spent time apart. We saw each other’s good, bad, and ugly. We fought and made up, we loved, laughed, and cried, we snuggled, we held hands, we danced, and we sung to each other. She was my peace and I was her comfort. She was the love of my life as I was hers.
Yet I still believe.
We loved weekend adventures to the mountains. Maggie Valley, Cherokee, and The Blue Ridge Parkway were our favorite destinations. The cooler temps, the magnificent mountain vistas of God’s amazing creation, and being together to enjoy it were why we went there so often. Joey’s Pancake House was a must visit while we were there (thanks for getting us addicted Harry), as were the Elk of Cataloochee, and the wonderful shops and restaurants in the area. The valley’s majestic beauty, their amazing Christmas decorations, and 4thof July fireworks display were a sight to behold and favorite times for visitation. We never did get to rent a cabin in the woods like we wanted to do. That may have been for the best. We probably wouldn’t have come back.
Yet, I still believe.
Two very long and painful weeks have passed. The pain remains as strong as before. An ever present reminder of such great loss to me and others. The hole where my heart once was is slowly beginning to heal. The gapping emptiness remains, haunting my days and nights. At times the loss is unbearable. I am unable to see a future of hope, peace, and love as I once did with her at my side. Storm clouds surround me. The winds of despair howl through my turbulent mind. Now and again lightning strikes to illuminate the ever present darkness only to show me a bleak and dark landscape full of emptiness. The tears pour from the sky. Never ending, they fill my soul and threaten to drown me in despair. The deep dark of hopelessness rules here.
Yet, I still believe…
I believe God still reigns in the universe, I still believe in His word, I still believe in His son Jesus Christ, I believe He is always faithful, I believe He is always good, I believe in our deepest darkest moments of despair and hopelessness that He is present with us, I believe that no matter the outcome or circumstances that He always has our best interest at heart, I believe in death we are present with Him. I believe that no prayer is ever unanswered but that we don’t understand what the answer was, and I believe that all the prayers for Veronica’s healing were answered just not the way we wanted them. In heaven there is no more pain or suffering. There are no more tears. In heaven she is healed.
Even though I cannot see, I still believe.
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