I cried myself to sleep for months after losing our daughter Preslee. Pat had a difficult time sleeping, and would often stay awake on our couch, rather than tossing and turning in bed all night. One morning he walked into our bedroom, after he had listened to me cry myself to sleep the night before, and lovingly said:
“I don’t want Preslee’s death to define us. I don’t want to be known as that couple whose lives fell apart when they lost their daughter and they never truly lived again.”
These are the words that come to mind when I find myself struggling. I’m lucky he’s been the one by my side through everything.
Fast forward two years later, which was just last summer. I’d reached a point where I no longer grieved heavily on a daily basis, and rarely cried myself to sleep anymore. But one summer night, I remember struggling more than usual. Ledger was already in bed, and I decided to take a drive by myself, which is always a safe place to break down and cry. Before long, I found myself on the way to the cemetery. I pulled in front of Preslee’s headstone, and cried while listening to one of my favorite cds, that’s when the distinct thought came to my mind:
“Make it count. Make the time we are separated count, so when we are reunited, we'll both be able to say it was worth all the hard work.”
I immediately felt comforted, and sat contemplating those words. How do I make it count? I thought about the New Year’s Resolution I had made 7 months earlier, I was trying to figure out a way fill the ache I had as a mother to physically do something for my daughter. I wanted more Preslee time in my life, and more moments to feel like her mom again. I decided I would still make time for her, and pray for guidance to serve in a unique situation every single month. After thinking of my resolution, the thought came to mind:
“That’s just the beginning.”
As 2013 rolled around, I thought of my experience at the cemetery, and once again made it my New Year’s resolution.
When I think back to Pat’s words, and my experience at the cemetery, I realize with hard work, and keeping an eternal perspective, Preslee’s death doesn’t have to define us in a negative way, but rather, it can define us in a beautiful way. If we allow it to, our lives can be molded and shaped into something that wasn’t possible before we experienced the heartache and tears. My hope is that years down the road, Pat and I will be able to make every second of our life count. I sincerely hope service becomes second nature to us and is being acted upon a daily basis. I pray we won’t neglect anything the Lord needs us to accomplish.
When we are reunited with our daughter in future, I really do hope all three of us will be able to say:
“It really was worth it, wasn’t it?”
This brings me back to my question, “What Defines You?”
I’ve come to realize it’s often the most difficult and painful moments in our lives that determines who we choose to be.
