Edge of the Woods

I used to live a charmed life.  I had a handsome, funny, successful husband who loved me unconditionally; two intelligent, accomplished, kind children; my dream job as CEO of one of the largest charities in the state; the fulfillment of knowing that my work directly and positively impacted people’s lives daily; a big office with a shelf full of awards; a network of great friends and colleagues; a beautiful home with a Cadillac in the garage.  I had it all.  I wanted for nothing.  And most of the time I respected and appreciated all that had been given to me.   But it is easy to become complacent when you believe that nothing bad will happen to you, that nothing will shatter the life that you have created.  Ultimately, nothing is promised to us.

My life changed forever a year ago today on December 21, 2016.  The first day of winter.  The shortest day of the year yet the longest day of my life.  It will forever symbolize the day my worst nightmare came true.  That terrible thing you think will never happen to you actually did happen to me.

My husband, Anthony, was killed in an accident four days before Christmas.  In an instant I became a widow and a single mother at age 45.  To say that the last twelve months have been difficult is an understatement.  I have experienced every emotion you can imagine, from shock to numbness to pain to fear to anger, with very limited bouts of happiness.  I have questioned everything.  Why did this happen to him?  Why did it happen to me?  Why did my two great kids have to lose their father?  Why was a good, hard working, much-loved man taken from this earth so young when he had so much left to do?  Why was he taken while so many bad people are allowed to live?  Why would God do this to us?  What did I do wrong to be punished in this way? 

I was forced to embark on a journey that I did not expect and did not want to go on, with a completely unknown final destination. I spent the first months following the accident in a dark tunnel with no beginning and no end, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other and moving ahead.  Today I am still walking through that tunnel.  While I do not necessarily see light at the end of it yet, I am open and I am hopeful. 

I have refused to let tragedy define me or my children.  I have been so aware that they watch me, and I have been determined to show them that they are strong enough to deal with anything that comes in life.  At all times I have been mindful that as the public face of a charitable business, I have a visible presence in the community.  I have 63 team members who count on me as well as the more than 100,000 people in 32 counties we serve monthly who rely on me to lead the organization.  Even on the worst days, and there have been many, I have had to keep my chin up and a smile on my face.  I have had to push the ever-present grief away to be dealt with at a more appropriate time.  Some days I have failed spectacularly at that, and other days I have delivered an Oscar-worthy performance.   

In the seconds, days, weeks and months following the accident, I have learned many things.  I no longer have real fear or worry, because I realize we have so little control over our lives.  I have experienced the awesome power of love and friendship.  The outpouring of support we have received, and continue to receive, has been unexpected but wonderful, even from complete strangers who recognized me and had heard the news.  I have found a new perspective on the importance of community.  I have much less tolerance for people who complain about the little things in life, the things that do not matter.  And truly, most of the things we think are important simply do not matter.  I wish everyone could see the world the way that I do now.  They would take every breath, every loved one and every moment of joy far less for granted.  I have a long way to go, but I recognize that I have also come a long way in a relatively short amount of time.  I do not know where I am headed or what the future holds.  For now, I am trying to walk by faith, not by sight.

For the last year, I have been merely existing.  I have been in neutral, on hold, in mourning, trying to find the new normal, trying to make the best of the absolute worst situation and trying to handle this chapter of my life with the most grace, dignity and strength I can possibly find.  I have used social media as a way to share my story, not for sympathy but to keep Anthony’s memory alive and because writing about my experience is helping me.  I am launching this blog at the urging of some close friends and colleagues.  They think my words will help others.  I hope that someday my words will actually repair me, and I realize I have a lot more to say.  If my experience helps even one person who has endured their own tragedy or offers a newfound perspective on what is important in life then something positive will have come from my loss.

If not with the kids and me, Anthony’s favorite place to be was in his beloved woods.  I have realized that for the past year, I have been walking through those same woods.  But today is a new day and almost the beginning of a new year.  Today I will stop waiting for my new life to begin and instead start making it happen.  Today I will start to breathe again.  Today and every day I will seek and embrace joy and I will count the many blessings in my life.  Today I will begin walking out of the woods. 

More to come soon about my First Day in the Woods.