The significance of 5 years

To say that 5 years ago my husband took his last breath on this earth and entered eternity in Heaven, seems mind-blowing. To me, 5 years...FIVE...just feels significant. It is a number that carries some weight. A benchmark, so to speak. In the medical world, you hear of 5 year survival rates. I know for our own family, getting to the 5 year cancer free mark for Cooper was hugely significant. I think of other big "5 year marks" that people refer to...like making it through the first 5 years of marriage and 5 years in recovery from addiction...these are milestones to be celebrated and hurdles of great victory!

I wish I could say 5 years since that day I said my final goodbye, I have felt something significant happen in my heart... something monumental to celebrate or like I have really overcome something. In some ways, I have certainly moved forward and have been able to accept the way that things have turned out. There are more happy moments and less sadness and time has absolutely been the biggest factor in that. However, I wouldn't say that the pain is any less or that I feel "cured" of the heartbreak. It has just become numbed with the passage of time. It's still real. Very real.

Life still feels hard. That's the bottom line. The tragedy that struck our family is still something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. There are still constant reminders of what's missing...and well, honestly, it still hurts. It still doesn't feel "right." Every holiday, every "family event", every big decision, every celebration, every disappointment. Every last one of them still feels like it is supposed to be shared with Rod Cook.

Time has healed lots of wounds, but there are scars that will always be there. They remind me of what we have come through. Sometimes they elicit tears and other times joy at remembering what we had and getting to see the legacy he left.

I say none of this for pity or to make anyone ever feel sorry for us. That's honestly the last thing I want. I always want to be completely transparent and work so hard to teach my boys to speak truth, not just what you think someone wants to hear. It really sucks to lose your husband and father so unexpectedly, and that is the reality. There is no proper timeline for when you should be "over it" and as much as I would like to believe that sometimes, it's just not the truth. What I can say, is that we have tried to make the best of our "story", we have tried to rise above, we have tried to glorify God in our circumstances. Sometimes we do that well and other times we absolutely fail. But, we are trying. I am trying. One day at a time.

At the beach in the spring the year their dad died. Carson was writing "RC" in the sand

Most importantly, through it all, I feel so incredibly loved and held. God has fulfilled His promise to be near to my broken heart. He has carried me. He has given me a peace that is truly beyond any human understanding. I am so grateful for that. I have seen His tenderness in a personal way that I probably never would have otherwise. I have the blessing of a perspective that now soaks in the little things, because you never know what can happen. I have experienced true friendship and community in a more meaningful way, because I have had to let go of my stubbornness and let others help me, even when I absolutely don't want to.

The realization that no matter how hard I have tried to keep their dad's memory alive and fully present, the boys memories have faded with time...THIS has probably been one of the most difficult things for me to accept. Cooper is almost the age that Carson was when his dad died. He has now experienced more life without his dad than with him in it. He has very few memories. That is heartbreaking to me. I found this picture that my sister took of Cooper sleeping early in the morning on the day of his dad's funeral. He looks like such a baby to me. He was sleeping so peacefully and had no way to grasp what that day and the days ahead would mean for him.

So, today is a benchmark, I suppose. Five years sometimes still feels like yesterday. I'm thankful to have been loved and given the gift of these 3 boys, by someone so extraordinary. My hope is still in Christ's promises. I will always remember, but I will continue to look ahead to the chapters He still has to write in our book. 

I am truly thankful for the village of people who continue to remember Rod Cook ("Bunky" to many of those) and to those who have come into our lives even after, but still support and love us so well. He would be amazed and thankful for the kindness shown to his family. I can't tell you in words what it means to us and how it has carried us for the last 5 years. God is so, so good! He truly is a Father to the Fatherless and I believe my boys already know that in a way that is real, because of the goodness shown to them by the hands and feet of Jesus.