January 28, 2004
Six Months
By the waters of Babylon,
there we sat down and wept,
when we remembered Zion. (Psalm 137:1)
Today marks exactly six months since Susan died. However, it was Monday that Psalm 137 came true for me, I guess because Susan died on a Monday 26 weeks ago. At exactly 12:14 PM I found myself kneeling by the side of my bed, on the spot where she died, weeping. They say grief is like a wave that suddenly rises up and sweeps you away without warning. That's how it was with me. All those events of her last few days in this world came back to flood my memory, overwhelming my emotions.
Having confessed (against my macho-influenced better judgment) this “weakness” in my grieving process, I have to say I am making progress in my journey as a recovering griever. I don’t obsess over every picture of Susan that I come across anymore. I am starting to carry on a more normal life just as she would want me to. Last night, for example, I hosted my beloved grandnephew Nate (we call him “Nate-man”) and 25 of his closest friends at my house for his 4th birthday party. Kathy and Dan did all the work, I just supplied the venue. Susan would have been proud of how I scrubbed and mopped and cleaned just like (well almost) she would have done.
Saying this reminds me of the complaint of C. S. Lewis that he and others would forget his late wife, Joy. I fear this too. When I shared this fear with Shari over the Christmas holidays she said something that greatly helped me. She said that a part of Susan is built in to every one of us who knew her and loved her. We might not consciously think about her, but our thought processes and our behaviors have been changed because of her powerful influence on our lives. For instance, as a trivial example, cleaning up the house before a party would not even have registered on my “Richter scale” in my bachelor days. Or even in most of the days of our marriage until the last few years. Now I see that she so shaped my thinking about cleanliness that I can’t even allow a small drip go un-sponged. (And in fact, I then have to put the sponge in the dishwasher—incredible that I would even think of doing that.)
Beyond just the everyday matters of how she ran our household—which I now attempt to imitate—there is the more important influence on what my priorities are. She was into relationships. She knew that relationships were where “loving your neighbor as yourself” was to be found. She did that so beautifully and so quietly and impacted so many lives in her modest, yet zippy way. Now I find myself attempting to follow her in this. I stumble. I even whine at times. But her wisdom about loving others, sacrificially, engulfs me and won’t let me go.
Scripture tells us that the Holy Spirit lives in us who believe. Though He be God Almighty, His witness is a still small voice that directs our path. Part of that voice, I believe, is His reminding us of those who have gone before, and how they have run their race of sanctification.
Rejoice, my beloved! The joy of your race has infected us all and will not let us go.
