The Giraffe

Hard to believe it has been 7 months. I'm not really finding too many words to describe the ache of loneliness I feel without my husband. Evenings are the most difficult. It is quiet. Too quiet. I walk into my room and crawl into my king-sized bed (picture a large ocean engulfing a small life boat). That's how I feel when I climb in each night. I still find myself reaching over to see if he is there in the middle of the night and during the groggy early morning hours, only to the reality that he is not. My sadness in those moments of reality wake me. I pray and beg God to help me go back to sleep without tears and sadness, that all too often keep me awake.

I also wake up cold a lot without him next to me. He used to joke and say, "Missy, you have a major circulation problem," because my hands and feet were always so cold. It was actually fun to try to touch him with my cold feet just to make him almost jump out of the bed. Most times, he would oblige and let me put my cold feet on his warm legs to try to "thaw" them. I can't tell you how many pairs of really warm and fuzzy socks he bought for me over the years. I never imagined how much I would miss his ability to warm my toes!

When he was in the Cardiac Critical Care Unit at Vanderbilt, the Child Life Specialist brought some things for the boys. She brought a little stuffed giraffe, which the boys decided should be left in their dad's hand to "comfort" him. That little giraffe stayed there in his hand for those few days as we waited to see if God would work a miracle and bring him back to us. I remember the nurses being careful as they messed with IV's, to be sure the giraffe stayed right there, so his boys would see it there when they came to visit their dad.

After he died, I kept the giraffe. We talked about putting it in his casket. Thankfully, I thought that it would probably be something we would want to keep since it was held by him for those final days. I'm glad we did. Unashamedly, I now hold that little giraffe EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT. Somehow that tiny stuffed giraffe brings me comfort, in the midst of sleeping in my "ocean." I picture his big hand holding it and imagine what it would feel like, just to hold his hand one more time. If only I could. What I do know, is that God does  hold me in HIS big hands…each and every minute of each and every night and day. For that reason alone, I hold onto hope and look forward to the day my loneliness and tears will be wiped away.