The separation between Hunny and I was the greatest shock for me because I haven’t been separate from him. We didn’t tolerate separation well. Even for years when we were both working, we’d each wear a Bluetooth all day. That Bluetooth carried a live phone call between us that began the moment we drove away from each other. And we maintained that call most all of the day. Even as we talked to others, the one of us at the other end of the Bluetooth simply waited.

We didn’t necessarily talk to each other all the time either. We simply knew that the only comfortable place in the world was in each other’s presence.

Thankfully, we quickly reconnected after he left. So, quickly in fact that he spoke to me as I was driving home from the hospital. And though it was a new topic, it wasn’t a new conversation, but the continuation of the one we’d had for…most of our life.

My miraculous life began when I started living the opposite of accepted scriptural teachings. And not because I decided that I wanted to be contrary or rebellious or independent. All the things we’re taught NOT to do.

Nope it wasn’t because of any of those things. It was because of one thing. My scripturally sound lifestyle betrayed me. It did none of the things it promised and stabbed me in the back to boot.

But as a good christian woman I figured it was all my fault. I hadn’t surrendered to God enough. So after the divorce and the bankruptcy and the foreclosure…I surrendered everything. I told God that I obviously didn’t know how to do anything right, so from now on I wasn’t going to make any decisions. He had to make them all. And if he didn’t lead me then I’d just fall off the cliff. What difference did it make? I was already sitting at the bottom of my heap of destruction.

It feels a bit odd to me this morning, that I dreamt such a powerful vision. So real that I could feel the timbre of his voice. And how it radiated something inexplicable. So, I will share it with you, mostly. There are sacred parts that can’t be shared, of course.

In my dream/vision, I was involved in a deep, fully enveloping conversation. And I believe it was Hunny, but could have easily been Jesus, or Father. The nature of the thing seemed to be of all their characters combined.

I’m reminded that what we see on one side of a mirror, the opposite is simultaneously happening on the other. The world has always been a dichotomy of this truth.

So, what is the opposite of this great wave of narcissism we see happening in our world? Well, I think it is a great wave of awakening of the truest self. The self made in the image of God. We are discovering it these days in a wave I don’t think has been seen before.

Lately, I’ve discovered this dichotomy in the mirror of love and hate in my life with Hunny. It’s been peeking around corners at me since Hunny’s transition. And I’ve been recognizing it yet wanting not to see it. Not now when I’m discovering ever deeper how amazing he was to me. I don’t want to see the other side too. But there it is. That dichotomy of truth.

Before I see the results with my physical eyes, I can know my prayer is answered. I learned this a long time ago when Hunny was being an active alcoholic. I’d pray for his safety getting home, which was a real concern since I knew he’d be driving under the influence.

During one of those nights, which was many, I’d close my eyes and pray earnestly. “Please, Father, keep him safe.” And within moments, that sweet, soft Peace would seep into my heart, easing my worries. It was always such a quiet thing that I wouldn’t notice it if I was overly emotional. The noise of my emotions could block my awareness of it. And if I didn’t receive it, then I wouldn’t have it.

We’ve heard so much about being in the presence of God. Or finding the presence. Or inviting presence. And after someone has passed into eternity we hear about feeling their presence. This week Father has been teaching me about Hunny’s presence.

There’ve been moments when I felt his presence so distinctly that it was unmistakable. And instead of looking directly at his chair, I got the impression that I should look away. Looking at the chair was distracting from it. But when I looked away, his presence felt more profound, actually bigger.

Well meaning friends and acquaintances come to see me, expecting wild displays of emotion. It seems easiest for me to simply talk about how Hunny passed through and what I know about it. They’re puzzled and confused by my dry-eyed conversation and I know they ask themselves if I have a cold heart or simply don’t know how to cry. I’ve been asked, “Have you cried yet?”

I’ve shaken my head for months now about this strange turn in our society. Where sobbing tears are not only expected, but applauded. Hunny and I discussed often how bizarre it was to us that people embrace being victims.

Yesterday, I fell down that black hole of grief and had one heck-of-a-time getting out.

It all began with a call to our attorney. Hunny and I have known him and his secretary for at least 20 years. They’ve been with us through painful family struggles and mundane chores. For some reason, that was the trigger that sent me into tears and kept me sobbing for most of the day.

I think it’s odd that I do so well with grief most of the time but telling others the news that Hunny is no longer walking in the flesh on this earth, is my Achilles heel. Why does the act of telling someone, reduce me to such tears that I can’t speak?

This is going to be my advice to widows based on my one month experience as a widow and very little else.

First, I would recommend to everyone that an inner conversation should begin now, before anyone is gone. One question to ask is: “how do I want to react when it happens”. I say “when” because everyone faces the death of a partner. It’s reality. And the answer cannot be “I don’t want to think about that”. That answer will be to your peril. Face the demons within while you can escape them as needed in periodic breaks, but keep going back to face them until you can answer the question sufficiently enough to vaporize the demon.

I had this inner conversation off and on for several years but more intently in the past few months as it became a greater possibility. And I specifically faced those demons because I was afraid to. It’s the best reason of all. I know from experience that when I hide from the demons that scare me, the price later is worse than I imagined. But the price now is extremely less. That simple difference in price can make one rich…in Peace and trauma avoided. Well worth it. So, I tend to like to screw up my courage and face the demons within with an expectant relish. How much will conquering this one this time gain me?

Hunny said, “I don’t care” and it set me free from guilt.

Once again, as I traverse this road of hidden land mines and pits of destruction, Hunny has once again come to my rescue.

It happened last night as I stared down the demons of “was it my fault?” and “could I have done something more?”. These of course, have been hanging in the background since Hunny’s passing because I don’t have the death certificate yet. I don’t know what was put into that little space where it states “cause of death”. And I finally fell into that black hole of guilt begging Father not to let them put something on that line implicating my inadequacy and failure. “Please, Father, I can’t bear to think that it was my fault.”