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“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
(Psalm 147:3, ESV)

You know how you might have a job, just completed, that went so well with help from one of your children or a friend that you fondly say ,“He was my right arm!” Well, when it comes to losing the man that was my other half from the time I was nineteen until I was seventy-five, that’s not quite what I mean here.

Losing a husband of fifty some years is SO much more than losing someone helpful, that it occurred to me recently that the experience might have some similarities to losing an arm or a leg. To be honest, my husband and I functioned at such a different pace and given that I did the bills and a lot of daily stuff, the loss of his presence in the practical realm isn’t what I mean here either. It’s more.

It’s been two years since we lost him. And I’m only now beginning to perform even the simplest daily functions without the constant shock of awareness that he is no longer with me. I mean from getting into bed at night, sitting down to a meal, going out in the car or coming home alone, making a decision, sitting down in the living room at night alone, and on and on.

Yes, I miss him when I’m the one pumping gas or doing all the driving on a long trip or shopping for clothes without his smile of approval. Or making a minor or major decision, since we balanced each other so well…..but that’s not what I mean either.

There must be, in losing a limb, that shock every time the amputee automatically takes a step, assuming the body part is still there and finds it is not. In the last two years, even the smallest parts of my day cause that shock. Is it because two actually do become one?

I think I do mean that, yes, I’m getting used to functioning without that limb, but it is permanently and irrevocably gone, much like an arm or leg. Whatever new habits have filled in as a prosthesis for his loss must be helping since I am functioning, and I find that I am, finally, not being gut-punched constantly, at every step, by the awareness of that amputation. The process of losing a limb and learning to take a step without constant awareness must be somewhat similar.

And what started this train of thought is that, after two years, I just noticed that I’m beginning to live each moment without these shocks!

God has provided so much-a warm and lovely home, a big loving family, the means and health necessary to live well, but, getting used to not having that leg to lean on has been a journey-not over yet I’m sure.

And the constant prayer that has begun to subdue the shock is: Rest in me, Lord, and I will rest in You. That’s probably what my husband is doing now, as well!