Ten Year Challenge

 Many people on Facebook are posting a "ten year challenge", a look back on the last ten years. It's been interesting to see the growth in most peoples lives. Often times there is a different physique. Some of my younger friends it's interesting as they've had Facebook since a young teen and now they are in their early 20's. Others have young children and now nearly grown children. Often their family size is different.

But for me, like other widows, there is a sense of bittersweetness to the thought. Ten years ago I was living in Congo and often wondering if I would ever be married, and who that would be, and what my married life would be like. Would I ever have children of my own or would I always be another mother figure to niece, nephews and other children I was around? I had no idea that five years ago I would meet a man 9 years my younger, bald, with a beard, and covered in tattoos, who would steal my heart. It took him quite a bit of work, but I think I was worth it. :-)  Four years ago we were preparing for our wedding-my bachelorette party was 4 years ago this last week. It was lots of fun and I was surrounded by sisters and friends from high school, college, residency and work. So much of my life was represented at that party. To be honest I was a little nervous about getting married. It was a big life change, something I had waited for my whole life. He wasn't exactly the image of the man I had dreamed of marrying (I mean what woman doesn't dream of a tall, strong, muscular man), and he had some rough edges, but I saw his heart. I saw it in ways that many others didn't see because he sometimes kept a tough exterior. I know he wasn't the man many people had thought I would marry, either. There were friends who questioned him for me, and his ability to lead. I think some were concerned about how loud and vocal he was with his opinions, if he would roll over me. But what they didn't count on was how strong he helped me to voice my own opinions (even if he didn't agree) and that my experience with my previous boyfriend to him actually made me stronger to not allow it to happen again. Personally I think Luigi loved that I gave him my opinion, that I didn't just cater to his every whim. I had no problem telling him when I thought he was wrong, and he did the same to me. It made us a good balance, as I know I can be quite bossy and headstrong, and needed a man who would stand up to me. I wanted someone to lead, and he did a good job of it. 

Many have heard about our disagreement on the practice of headcovering when we first married. He didn't tell me he really wanted me to practice it as he knew I wouldn't marry him if he demanded it (and I wouldn't have). It was a source of myriad arguments in our first 6 months of marriage. It wasn't until I decided to approach it scientifically (what if what I had been taught was wrong, and what if there is something lost in the translation from the Greek to English...I had to start with a null hypothesis and be open to another idea). Then the Holy Spirit did His work as well. I'm sure Luigi prayed a lot about it.  

The last post I made on this blog was on the due date of our firstborn, Dale. I am remiss that I have not posted more since then. Three years ago was his due date. He would be about three now. If we had him I don't know what life would be like. Would we be living in this house (we moved about the time I was due), would we have Esther? 

I remember when I started bleeding with Dale, I prayed so much that he would live. But I also knew Luigi wasn't quite where he needed to be with God. He knew a lot, and his heart wanted to be close to him, but some of his past life was holding him up. I don't think I ever told anyone other than perhaps my counselor, but I believe I had prayed that if losing Dale would bring Luigi closer to Christ, then so be it.  I don't know if that's why I lost him, and I try not to think about it. The grief is so profound, but at the same time I believe Dale is in Heaven with Luigi, so if losing Dale meant saving Luigi, I take some solace in that. I still wish I had both of them.  I do think he became closer with God after that. We changed churches several times to find one he felt fit us best, and we ended up staying at Berea Christian Fellowship. I resisted finding a new church for a while as I had had a lot of life changes in a short time, but I’m so glad we changed. They have been such a source of support and friendship to Luigi and I. 

I remember at times prior to the loss of Dale, I doubted Luigi's love for me at times. He made enough jokes about "marrying a rich doctor so he didn't have to work" that I had doubts, likely fueled by well meaning friends. But I distinctly remember Luigi holding me so tenderly and lovingly, and seeing the look of love in his eyes, that from that moment on I had absolutely no doubts of his fierce love for me. He handled cancelling my trip to Gabon, planning on short notice a trip to Tennessee and visiting family along the way, so that I didn't have to handle it. He was with me when I got my first tattoo of Dale's feet, and I cried, not because of the pain of the tattoo needle, but because of the sharp and acute loss of our son. Now, I plan to get another tattoo, hopefully at the same place by the same artist, in memory of Luigi when I am in the area in April. I haven't decided what to do yet...it's a hard decision. 

Three years ago (well it was Feb 2019) we moved to our current house. It was a hard move for me as I loved the previous house, but he never felt it was "our home", only "my home" he was living in. When I had bought it I realized the man I marry may not want to live there, but I could imagine raising children there, with the neighborhood of kids that could run back and forth, and a nice little back yard. 

It was something I didn't have growing up-only a few neighbors and often had to be driven to a friends for play. He loved our current house-it was his dream home that he had envisioned 10 years before. A main living level and a finished basement that was kind of like an apartment with a separate kitchen, so we could have friends and family there to entertain. I have grown to love it, through I still wish for laminate tile floors that are easier to clean with two dogs and a toddler. (There is always something we long for, right?)

Two years ago, I was finally expecting again, this time around 24 weeks pregnant. I had lost another baby in April 2019, and became pregnant with Esther around July of 2019. We prayed all the time for her. He was so ecstatic to finally have another one of his dreams fulfilled, to have a child. He wanted to be a dad so much. When she was born he beamed with joy and pride. A life long wish fulfilled. He loved being a dad, and was such a great father to Esther. He doted on her, and took such delight in all she did. I miss having him here for this time in her life, because he would enjoy it so much. I'm sure he would give her little challenges of things to do to see her mind at work. 

One year ago, we were enjoying our lives as new parents, anticipating Esther turning 1 in a few months. She was growing well, and looked more like her father every day. She still does, and for that I am thankful (though I still pray against her getting his unibrow and acne as she gets older. ha ha).

And now, I am a widow. I never thought I'd be a widow at 41 years of age. I miss him every. single. day, in different ways and for different reasons. I miss our inside jokes, I miss texting him throughout the day with updates. I miss hearing about a call he was on, or a discussion he had with friends while patrolling in Bourbon. I miss getting photos of he and Esther during "daddy daughter" time while I was at work, urging me to come home as soon as I could to be with them. 

I realized Thursday morning that he would have woken up and said "you know what we haven't had since last year?" and then name some restaurant we likely have been to in the last month, but it was surely last year that we went to it, and want to go there for breakfast. Then I would have protested about all the things I wanted to get done that day, but likely still have gone anyway, because I know how much he enjoyed it. I don't take Esther out to eat much by myself, mostly because mealtimes aren't quite as enjoyable as they used to be since I don't really have someone to talk over the events of the day.

I miss the middle of the night baths when he wasn't feeling well (I would wake to find him gone from the bed, and often heard the water refilling the tub with hot water). I miss hearing the radio in the night with calls (and even my annoyance when he had it set to all the area townships). I miss chastising him about how much Easy Cheese to eat in a day (one can is NOT a serving). I miss complaining about the trash he would leave on the counter, ten feet from the trash can. I miss his loud singing, whether it was at church, in the car, or as we were getting ready in the morning. I miss him complaining about all the pagan practices of Christmas but still having no problem with Halloween (don't worry I called him out on that). I'm sure he would complain about Esther wanting to read the SAME book OVER and OVER, and I would remind him that reading the same book is good for speech and language acquisition. I miss that he won't be able to teach her Italian or Spanish, with a very good accent as well. I still have some books with Italian in them but I can't bring myself to get them out yet. 

I'd like to put Esther's crib into a toddler bed with the hopes of getting her to sleep by herself, but right now I can't bring myself to do it as Luigi and I put the crib together when we moved to this house. I moved one of her toys she got for her 1st birthday, and would like to take it apart and build a different shape for her to climb, but I can't quite bring myself to do it yet as we put it together the week before he died. I cried just thinking about it.  I cried when I sat on the floor of her room this week, putting 12 month clothes away and putting away other clothes. I remembered the week before he died, he sat on the bed as I put away her 9 month clothes and got out her 12 month clothes. I tried on shoes on her to see if they fit while she played with his phone-she managed to record a video and you can hear him complain about it in the background. 

I miss having someone to cuddle with at night (even though he hated cuddling). I miss having him to vent to about things at work or with patients, or with friends or family. I couldn't have asked for a richer 4.5 years together from time of meeting to his death, and just a little over 3 years of marriage. I wouldn't give it up for anything, but I would much rather that he were here. 

What will the next ten years bring? Will I be remarried?  Will I have other children?  It’s hard to think about, because I long for Luigi, but yet we talked about if something happened to one of us, we would want the other to remarry if they met the right person. I had such a wonderful time with him that I long for that relationship again. I do have confidence that if I am to marry again, God will bring that man into my life at the right time, and he will be the right person for Esther and I. I will always be a widow, even when remarried. He will always be Esther’s dad. We will always mourn his loss and talk about him so she knows her dad.

Photos from ten years ago: 

Photos from the last few years: