For Better Or Worse

"I, Meridath, take thee, Rick, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and obey, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance."

18 years ago tomorrow, on 9/30/2000 I said these vows to my husband having absolutely no idea what life would have in store for us.

We have seen the better: 3 beautiful children, a home, friends, family, vacations, holidays with family.

We have seen the worse: The loss of a child, miscarriage, the loss of a home, friends that have drifted apart, family members aging and getting sick or passing away.

We have seen richer: I have learned to define "richer" in more than financial terms over the course of our marriage. We are rich in love, rich in friends, rich in family, rich in faith.

We have seen poorer: We have struggled to pay bills. We have had to ask for help. It has been hard during those times, but our love prevailed.

We have seen sickness: Chronic illness, surgery, a motorcycle accident. Most of our marriage one of us has been sick, but our love prevailed.

We have seen health: 3 healthy pregnancies, days and sometimes weeks when my chronic illness is in remission. We have learned to enjoy the healthy moments more because they are few and far between.

Love, cherish and obey: I specifically had 'obey' added into my portion of our vows. I know it has been popular to leave that out, but my understanding (limited as it was at that time) of biblical marriage was that a wife is to submit to her husband. I find it an honor to submit and obey and I feel cherished and protected when I do so.

Till death do us part (yes, there is a joke in here about our last name being Death....but that's for another post): We agreed many years ago that the "d" word (divorce) would not enter our conversation, no matter how angry we were with one another. I cannot say that we have always held true to that, but we have done our best and recognized when we have let things get too far out of hand. We both took our vows very seriously and truly believe that our love will last even after death.

According to God's holy ordinance: I have to thank two very special couples that modeled biblical marriage for us, even though we didn't think we needed that at the time we wed.

First, my parents-they have been married over 50 years and I am grateful to my father for showing me the type of man I should seek for a husband and to my mother for showing me how to be a respectful, loving, patient and submissive wife.

Second, Perry and Emily Crouch.  Perry was the Youth Pastor at the church I grew up in and also the officiant at our wedding. I remember going through the pre-marital counseling classes and being told that, while he was not sure we were ready for marriage, he would go ahead with it anyways. Looking back, I learned so much from watching their marital relationship at church. I am also so grateful for the love and time they poured into me as a rather, um, difficult teen...

We have been married 18 years, but we have been together almost 25. 

-High school graduations

-Long-distance college

-Job changes

-Loss of grandparents

-Marriage

-4 pregnancies

-1 miscarriage

-9 moves, 2 states

-Loss of a parent

-Illness of parents

-Chronic illness

-Vehicle accidents

-Loss of a child

These are the things our marriage has weathered and I know there are more that could be on this list. It has not always been easy, in fact-it has rarely been easy. But, the "better" is all about perspective. The good times are not about everything being perfect, but rather about being with the person that is perfect for you. 

Blessings,
Meri

The Truth About Death

Recently, I heard that a young lady that my daughter rides horses with lost her mother.  This girl is still in college, too young to have process this kind of pain.

But, here's the thing....I have no idea what to say to her or do for her.  And I should know.

I have been grieving for months. I have had my life torn apart and scattered to the far corners of the earth and I have spent 8 months trying to find those pieces and put them back together.

I should know.

I should know what to say to her.

I should know what to do for her.

I should know how to be there for her in this time of unimaginable pain.

But, all I can think of is those silly, kitchy things that everyone says when they don't know what to say....

"She's in better place"

"If God brought you to it, God will bring you through it"

"Everything happens for a reason"

"You are strong, you will get through this"

But the truth is that death is a thief. It steals a part of our soul and we cannot get it back.

The truth is you will always carry the grief with you, but it will eventually get lighter and easier to carry.

The truth is there is no reason good enough that would ever heal our grief over the loss of a loved one.

The truth is death sucks. Every single thing about it just plain sucks.

Blessings,
Meri

Shaken

Shaken.

This describes the feeling I have had over the past few months.

My faith in God-shaken (not lost, just shaken).

My faith in Christianity & Religion-shaken.

My understanding of life-shaken.

My plans for the future-shaken.

In short, I feel like a dry martini ordered by James Bond....shaken, not stirred.

I have been told I am open and honest, sometimes brutally so. So I will not be surprised if there are people who are offended by this.

I have been startled, and hurt, by the number of people who initially poured support into us after the death of our son in January that have now all but disappeared from our lives.

Grief is a lonely place. It is difficult to reach out and ask for help. It is uncomfortable to say "no, I am not okay". I think it is human nature to not make others uncomfortable. And in doing that, we have become prisoners of our own grief and loneliness.

But this has taught me something. This has made me see my faith from a different perspective. I know that I am loved and valuable to God, regardless of what others see or do not see in me. I am not limited by other's opinions and judgments.

Jesus loves me and my tattoos.

I love God, and I swear a little.

My music choices do not play on K-Love.

I enjoy a good game of Cards Against Humanity.

I think Deadpool is one of the funniest movies ever and I can't wait to see the sequel.

So-all of this shaking has maybe been a good thing. I don't doubt that God loves me and I know that I love Him. And that is enough.

Blessings,
Meri

18 Summers

Before you stop reading because every.single.mom-blogger has posted about how we only have 18 summers with our kids, that is not what this post is about.

This is about the less than 18 summers I got with Logan. 15 to be exact, and that last one was perfectly awful.

I feel short-changed. I didn't get my 18 summers. But, this has taught me so many important lessons.

• Tomorrow is not promised, make sure you love your people (family, friends, tribe) every single day. Send the text, make the call, go to lunch, spend time together doing absolutely nothing. But make sure you love on them.
• Stop counting down the summers, the days, the minutes. Enjoy the summer you are living now. Enjoy the days-mediocre, spectacular, even the less-than-spectacular ones.
• Every day has something to celebrate. Find it.
• Some days you don't want to celebrate anything. That's okay.
• Do you. Don't try to do what you see on social media that seems to be making other people or families happy. Just do you. Hate the beach-I am with you (sand, crabs, jellyfish, ick). Not a fan of the heat-hang out and watch old movies. Not a fan of TV-take a book to the pool, or the bedroom. Listen to music. Dance like no one is watching (okay, that was cliche, but still...). Sing like no one is listening. 
• Memories are not made in spectacular, over-the-top, coordinated, planned moments. Memories are made in the in-between moments. The car rides with the windows down and DMX blaring from the radio (don't judge...). Watching Deadpool for the 400th time because it's f-ing hilarious.

You may have 18 summers. You may have 15. You may have 40 (I still enjoy making memories with my momma and I am still her little girl). The point is, if you are so focused on fitting everything in to a certain time period you are going to miss the magic of the ordinary days in between.

Blessings,

Meri

An Open Letter To My Husband

First, I want to tell you how much I love you. All of you. Every broken, shattered, beautiful, emotional, strong, caring part of you.

These past few years have been tough. We have definitely lived out our vows...in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, in good times and in bad.

I get angry sometimes.

Angry with Logan for taking his life. And with myself for not being able to stop him.

Angry with the PTSD that has tried so hard to break your spirit. And sometimes with you, because I don't have anywhere else to direct my hurt.

Angry with people. Sometimes I feel like the people I counted on the most have just let us down and I feel lonely.

Angry with God. I don't understand why everything seems to be a struggle and how He can watch us struggle over and over.

Sometimes I hide. I hide from all of the things that hurt and the things that just seem too hard.

Sometimes I feel neglected and alone in our marriage. I know that this is part of the recovery process in PTSD, but it still hurts.

I expect a lot from you, and that is not always fair or reasonable, but I do it anyways.

I suck at housekeeping. There is nothing further to say about that.

But at the end of the day....I love you. I still take our wedding vows as seriously today as I did when we were married over 17 years ago. I know we had our doubters, and probably rightfully so. But, I am in this until the end. I will not quit. I will not stop. I will love, honor and obey you until the day I draw my last breath.

Love you forever,
Meri

Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning

We tend to remember what we were doing, where we were, who we were with when we hear of major, especially tragic, events occur.

My parent's generation had the assassination of President Kennedy. For my generation, it was when the Twin Towers fell.

But there is another, tragic moment that will forever be ingrained in my memory.

January 2, 2018.

I was at my daughter's riding lesson. It was a Tuesday night just before 6 pm. I remember the barn was unusually quiet for a Tuesday night, there was only one other parent in the viewing lounge with me.

Then my phone rang-it was my husband. When I answered, he told me my friend was coming to pick me up. I was confused since Kenzie's lesson had just started and I had my car with me at the barn. After me asking him a few times what was going on, he blurted out the words I will never forget as long as I draw breath on this earth:

"Logan blew his brains out."

My memory after that is in bursts...praying with my sweet friend on the way home from the barn. The police cars and ambulance and crime scene tape at our home. Talking to my mom on the phone. My husband's desperate cries for our son. The ride to the police station. Holding my girls. Telling my youngest daughter. The phone calls.

But that moment. That one moment. It will live in my memory forever.

Blessings,
Meri

Life in the In Between

It has been 138 days.

138 days since my world crumbled.

138 days since that phone call.

138 days since the crime scene tape, emergency vehicle lights, and interviews with the detectives.

138 days since I have touched his face.

138 days since I have heard him laugh.

138 days since my son took his own life.

It has been 138 days and I am still living in survival mode. Just trying to get through one day at a time, so I can wake up tomorrow and try to get through another one.

I would call what I am doing "living" really. I am just dwelling in the "in between" space. That space between what my life was and what I hope it will eventually become.

But, the "in between" is lonely.

I am not sure when I am supposed to be able to get back to some semblance of normalcy, but I clearly have not gotten there yet.

Dishes pile up in the sink. Laundry piles up in the laundry room or on the floor of our bedroom. Dog hair and dust pile up in my carpet. Bills pile up on the counter. Oddly, money does not seem to pile up in the bank account....

And I just can't.

I can't find the energy to get it all done. I just don't have it in me.

See, what people don't necessarily understand about grief and trauma is that it is exhausting. It makes you sick and tired, physically and mentally. It drains you.

I don't know how to move on from here. I can't seem to get out of the "in between". I desperately want to, but I just can't seem to find the way out.

Blessings,
Meri