Journal entry by Danielle MacGray —
Its been a year already, can you believe it?
On Feb. 16 she would have been 61.
On Feb. 17 at 1:18 AM it was exactly a year ago that her heart stopped beating, after she took her last breath a minute or so before.
Feb. 23rd, tomorrow, will have been a year since her funeral.
The longest-shortest year of my life. So much life happened - good things, like Emily getting engaged, Lyndsy pregnant with baby girl #3, me watching my kids become best friends. But at the same time, it feels like things just are, not like moving forward, but stuck in a holding pattern with a gray blanket over everything.
I think the hardest part for me is that grief is not linear. One day you think you are better, you experience joy for the first time in a long time, and then its back to it feeling like it just happened and you still can't really believe she's gone.
The interesting part for me has been that whenever I go to church, or worship, read my Bible, pray, etc. I 99% of the time cry. The Muri family has never been one where crying was normal, if we cry we do it by ourselves locked in a room where no one can find out. Thats hard to do when you are in the middle of church. Sometimes its just grief, like when we sing "it's your breath in our lungs" and I just picture her lungs going up and down in the last days, with great effort as her body longed for oxygen. Other times though it feels different. Talking to a Spiritual Director recently she said, "tears mean something, don't ignore them. Follow the tears and ask the questions." So I don't think I've figured out the "whys" like I want to and while I think it will be nice to not think about what is going to make me cry that day, right now what I think I've figured out is that heaven is more real to me now than it has ever been.
In her last week we said, "healing or heaven, she wins." But did I really mean that? I'm not so sure. But now I do. HEAVEN IS REAL. She is dancing with Jesus, just like she said she would when she was wondering if chemo was even worth it. And she's probably cooking for people with her favorite 'Chef Kev'. And having so. much. fun.
So what is life like for you (if anyone is still getting this email or reading this post)? What have you learned about life, death, and grief? And what is your favorite memory of Jose? I'd love to hear from you as we celebrate her life on earth and the one she is living for eternity.
This past week we were in Massachusetts. We had a time of spiritual retreat, cooked one of her regular dinners (chicken cutlets and risotto), spent the day with extended family and visited her grave. It really was the best way to walk through those days, and that is one thing I hope we can make a tradition.
And do you have questions about the hope we have in Jesus? About the assurance that we have, knowing Jose is in heaven, and that we, her daughters will rejoice with her one day? Please let me know, I'd love to talk about it.
The year of firsts is over but it doesn't feel like things will get easier. Maybe they will and maybe they won't, but I do know that God has not forsaken us. He is in every moment and detail. He is our God and we are his people, and for that, I will always be grateful.
"I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them." Isaiah 42:16
Thank you to everyone who joined us on her cancer journey, and for continuing to walk with us this past year and beyond.
On Feb. 16 she would have been 61.
On Feb. 17 at 1:18 AM it was exactly a year ago that her heart stopped beating, after she took her last breath a minute or so before.
Feb. 23rd, tomorrow, will have been a year since her funeral.
The longest-shortest year of my life. So much life happened - good things, like Emily getting engaged, Lyndsy pregnant with baby girl #3, me watching my kids become best friends. But at the same time, it feels like things just are, not like moving forward, but stuck in a holding pattern with a gray blanket over everything.
I think the hardest part for me is that grief is not linear. One day you think you are better, you experience joy for the first time in a long time, and then its back to it feeling like it just happened and you still can't really believe she's gone.
The interesting part for me has been that whenever I go to church, or worship, read my Bible, pray, etc. I 99% of the time cry. The Muri family has never been one where crying was normal, if we cry we do it by ourselves locked in a room where no one can find out. Thats hard to do when you are in the middle of church. Sometimes its just grief, like when we sing "it's your breath in our lungs" and I just picture her lungs going up and down in the last days, with great effort as her body longed for oxygen. Other times though it feels different. Talking to a Spiritual Director recently she said, "tears mean something, don't ignore them. Follow the tears and ask the questions." So I don't think I've figured out the "whys" like I want to and while I think it will be nice to not think about what is going to make me cry that day, right now what I think I've figured out is that heaven is more real to me now than it has ever been.
In her last week we said, "healing or heaven, she wins." But did I really mean that? I'm not so sure. But now I do. HEAVEN IS REAL. She is dancing with Jesus, just like she said she would when she was wondering if chemo was even worth it. And she's probably cooking for people with her favorite 'Chef Kev'. And having so. much. fun.
So what is life like for you (if anyone is still getting this email or reading this post)? What have you learned about life, death, and grief? And what is your favorite memory of Jose? I'd love to hear from you as we celebrate her life on earth and the one she is living for eternity.
This past week we were in Massachusetts. We had a time of spiritual retreat, cooked one of her regular dinners (chicken cutlets and risotto), spent the day with extended family and visited her grave. It really was the best way to walk through those days, and that is one thing I hope we can make a tradition.
And do you have questions about the hope we have in Jesus? About the assurance that we have, knowing Jose is in heaven, and that we, her daughters will rejoice with her one day? Please let me know, I'd love to talk about it.
The year of firsts is over but it doesn't feel like things will get easier. Maybe they will and maybe they won't, but I do know that God has not forsaken us. He is in every moment and detail. He is our God and we are his people, and for that, I will always be grateful.
"I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them." Isaiah 42:16
Thank you to everyone who joined us on her cancer journey, and for continuing to walk with us this past year and beyond.
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