I’m the One

Two years ago today my husband died when he rolled a semi truck full of wheat on a one lane gravel road. It is awful, tragic, shocking, and hard almost every day. Some days of course are worse than others.

We are in Kansas at his family’s farm, where he died. It is a very small town in the middle of nowhere in western Kansas. 

We were at the town pool on Tuesday like we are on most afternoons during harvest. A lady asked me where I was from, I told her, and said that Brooke, who lives in this town is my sister in law. She looked at me and said, “Are you the one....?”

I knew exactly what she was asking. You know when you are in a tiny town that is filled with farmers, and someone dies during harvest it’s a big deal. I figured everyone knew, and I am honestly surprised it hadn’t happened already. 

I looked at her and said, “Yes, I am the One. My husband died.” 

She started talking about how tragic it was and how people forget how dangerous harvest is. I wasn’t listening.  

Grief is very isolating, in whatever form it takes. It starts to make you feel like you have a target on your back. Like you are on an island, suffering alone. You aren’t, but it feels like you are.  You feel like you Are the One. 

I am the one, who lost the love of her life, her partner and best friend.  I am the one who now does almost all of the things, alone. I am the one parent, the only one they have. I am the one who had a tragic and shocking loss that has left a huge hole in my life. 

But I am not the only one. It is ripples. My children lost their father and their feeling of safety. Their little worlds got rocked and they learned early that the world is dark and full of terrors and that bad things happen for no reason.  My In-laws lost their son, their brother, their brother in law. My parents and brothers lost. All of those that loved Justin and us, and his family, all felt this and feel for us all. 

As I remember that night two years ago when the phone rang, I think again of all that was lost. I think of all of the hard things; telling my children their Dad was dead, walking into that funeral home and answering a million questions I didn’t know how to answer, and burying my husband in Kansas. 

We were the ones who came home to a house he no longer lived in with us. I was the one who had to figure out where everything was, the passwords, the bill payments, and all the things. There are still ripples of that, like Comcast asking me if Justin can come to the phone to verify the account. No, he is not going to make it to the phone. 

I am the one who has to deal with this all and figure out how to move forward. And ever forward do we march. I don’t really do any of it alone for God is with me every step of the way.  I am also the one who got to learn in a real hard way what leaning on your faith and trusting in God means. 

Again this year we brought something symbolic to remember and leave at his grave.  It is a light that shines in the darkness of the cemetery. It holds letters that we wrote to tell him how much we miss him and that our love will live on.