A year ago today, February 13th, we were given one hundred days with Marty. He took his last breath on the one-hundredth day after the accident. Those one hundred days were a gift to us and filled with mercy and grace from the Lord.

I was able to serve my husband in those 100 days and love him in ways I never had before. And I was able to have the conversations with him (though one-sided) that are so crucial at the end of life, conversations that if left unsaid would have made me have much regret. So that was a mercy from the Lord.

That our sons were able to have those conversation as well was another mercy.

That Marty was on his way to school, traveling a route he'd taken hundreds of times was a mercy from the Lord to me. I don't have to think about the what ifs of traveling a strange route.  And it was very likely he was praying, something he regularly did when he was driving.

That is was in the morning rather than late afternoon when he was tired and often fighting staying awake on the way home. Another mercy.

That we had just had an absolutely tremendously fun week prior to his accident is a huge mercy. We had the privilege of caring for our grandson Ronan for an entire week while his parents were on a cruise they had booked and purchased before Sarah was pregnant. "Ah, Mom and Dad... could you take care of Ronan while we go on a cruise?" He was eight months old at the time, a solid package of joy. It was a bit like being parents again having to figure out his cues: is he tired, did he get enough to eat, do you think he's getting sick? We had a blast with him, and I have pictures of them together, and some video of Marty laughing uncontrollably at his sweet grandson.

I feel the closest to Marty on Sundays when the Saints gather to worship the Lord. Marty is now part of the Great Cloud of Witnesses that have gone on ahead and who join us each Sunday as we worship the Lamb that was slain for the forgiveness of sins. There is a veil that separates us for sure, but I realize now that the veil is only a breath thick. A breath away.

Yesterday, I went to the cemetery because a year ago it was a Monday. Two things were very clear to me: Marty will rise again with this body that is now in the ground. His body will be renewed and fitted for his heavenly home even as his former body was fitted for his earthly home. The second thing that was clear to me is that I hate death. It really is an enemy.

                                                                         The last enemy to be destroyed is death

I tell you this, brothers: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:

                                                                              “Death is swallowed up in victory.”
                                                                                “O death, where is your victory?
                                                                                   O death, where is your sting?”

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain. - 1 Corinthians 15:26, 50-58