This is not a traditional recovery story because my dad did not recover- he died on his motorcycle that day. This is the recovery story of how my father saved three lives when he passed away and how my pregnant mom became a single mother to a six-year-old boy and a three-year old girl and how she raised all three children on her own to be successful adults. Even though my dad was not able to walk away from his accident, my mom was able to recover from that tragedy that blew our lives apart and help hundreds of women along the way.
October 22, 2004 – my dad was on his motorcycle reporting to the fire station for work. However, there was traffic on his usual route, so he decided to take the back roads – a route he had never taken before that day. He had the right of way and was driving at 45 miles per hour, but there were trees blocking the view. A box truck was stopped at a stop sign and did not see him coming around the corner, so he thought it was safe to make the turn. My father would have died on impact if it was not for his helmet. He slid underneath the truck, hit his head on the exhaust pipe, and proceeded to come out the other side. He was taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital where he passed a few hours later. All of this occurred while my family was sleeping. Later that morning, my mother was driving me to preschool and one of my dad’s coworkers called her to tell her that my father was in the hospital, and he was not doing well. Despite the efforts of the nurses and doctors, my father had too much blood in his brain which ultimately led to his death. Fortunately, his heart still worked perfectly so after he passed away, his heart valves were donated to an older man, a middle-aged woman, and a young boy – their lives were saved that day and they all fully recovered from their transplants.
After my father passed away and my younger brother was born, my mom started to write a blog called, “Widow Plus Three” where she documented our journey through the life of being raised by a widowed parent. Through her blog, she was able to carry on my father’s memory as if he did recover, by writing about us and how she sees him in each of us. Her blog reached tens of thousands of men and women worldwide and she helped show them God’s grace, unconditional love, and that it is okay to question His plan. My father has been gone for almost 18 years and she continues to post about our lives because the recovery journey is never fully complete.
Over the next five years, my mom would create the only Georgia chapter of Modern Widows Club. Modern Widows Club is a monthly meeting where widows could gather to be around other women on the same heartbreak and recovery journey, so they know they are not alone. Through the club, my mom found her passion for helping others through grief and loss. In 2013, she became a licensed professional counselor and specialized in grief and trauma. She saw clients two days a week and worked in the school system the other days. In the schools, she was a school counselor and worked for an organization known as Sources of Strength where she would train students and teachers how to recognize suicidal triggers, thoughts, and how to reach out for help. Over the years, she has helped administrators, students, teachers, and families recover from deaths and suicides across two different school districts.
My mom is now remarried, and they have been together for over ten years. In 2018, my stepfather adopted my younger brother and I making him our legal dad on our birth certificates. Through the adoption, we have three new siblings, a brother-in-law, a niece, a nephew, and a whole new side of family that treats us as their own. My older brother is now 24 years old and drives a UPS truck full-time. I am 21 years old, and I am a full-time student at the University of Georgia, and my younger brother is 17 years old and is taking dual enrollment classes at Kennesaw State University in the fall. My brothers and I did not get the chance to grow up with a father and experience the happiness on Fathers’ Day, but my mom’s heart healed, and we now have a man to call “Dad” who is our entire world.
My birth-dad may not have recovered from his motorcycle accident, but his tragedy directly saved three lives and allowed my mom to save a hundred more lives through her recovery journey. Recovering from a motorcycle accident is not always about the person directly involved because not only one person is affected by the incident. When that man pulled out in front of my dad – our lives were shattered and sent in a completely different direction. I would not wish this journey on anyone, but through our strong faith, my family has been able to recover and feel the love we missed out on for all those years.
It was twenty years ago that I became Steve’s wife. I was 22 years old and filled with the expectancy of youth. Our lives were laid out before us. We had moved from Michigan to Georgia. We had a small, one bedroom apartment that was sparsely furnished with hand-me-downs from family and friends. We slept on a mattress on the floor because we hadn’t even bought a bed yet! We were young, happy and in love.
We got married in the small Catholic church in our hometown, the same church where Steve had been baptized as a baby. There was no air conditioning in the church and we didn’t think much about it since June isn’t usually too hot in Michigan in mid-June. On our wedding day, however, it was one of the hottest days of the summer! I was sweating in my big wedding dress as I waited in the bride’s room of the church. Friends told me that Steve was in the hallway pacing. He must have been nervous! I was excited and a bit nervous too.
As I walked around outside to the back of the church, I heard the bells chiming. It was 12 o’clock noon. It was time for my wedding to start. The day I had been waiting for since I met Steve was here. I would become his wife!
I cried so much during the ceremony. I am an emotional woman and my wedding day was no different! On that day, June 18th, 1994, I vowed to love Steve “all the days of my life.”
I am struck, even today, at the irony in those words. We didn’t vow to love each other “until death do us part” as the traditional vows usually say. Our vows were specifically, “all the days of my life.” I don’t know why the priest chose those words for us but God knew that was the vow I should take. He knew I would continue loving Steve long after death would part us. I am amazed when I look back and see God’s hand in our lives long before our faith caught up to Him.
I spent ten years as Steve’s wife. During that time, we created a home and a family. We bought our first (and only) house. We had a son and a daughter. We took family vacations. We loved each other. We were expecting our third child when God took Steve home. I kept thinking that someone must have made a mistake because how could Steve be dead when we weren’t even done having children?
There wasn’t a mistake. Steve was gone. In an instant, I was no longer a wife. I was a widow.
The past ten years have been filled with confusion, pain, sadness, anger, friendship, family, happiness, love and a deepening faith that has sustained me throughout my widowhood. God has never left me. He was with me the day I lost Steve and He has been with me every day since then.
On our wedding day, twenty years ago, I didn’t know that when I vowed to love Steve “all the days of my life” that it meant I would love him more years as his widow than I would as his wife. Only God knew what those vows really meant. What a blessed woman I am to have had such a great husband and to have such a loving God who had His hand on my life, long before I ever knew it.
It’s my birthday and as I sit here, reflecting on last year and looking forward to the next one, I’m struck by how far I’ve come since the day that Steve died. I have settled into my role as an only parent but welcome help from others who love my children. Parenting on my own has not been easy. With three children, I am often in a bind when it comes to getting them all where they need to be at any given time. I honestly don’t know how I would do it without the support and encouragement I’ve received from friends and family throughout this journey of widowhood.
As my children have gotten older, we’ve faced new challenges. I’m now raising a teenage boy who, at times, seems like an alien living in my house! I’ve had to lean on the experience of my boyfriend, my cousin and other friends for help and advice when making decisions about him. The older he has gotten, the more he has grown to resemble his dad. It is kind of strange to think that I met Steve when he was my son’s age!
One thing I’ve come to realize, however, is that God has never left me without the resources I’ve needed to parent my children successfully. There have been so many days that I have felt overwhelmed, exhausted or just plain angry at Steve for leaving me to raise these babies on my own. The nights of breastfeeding a newborn while caring for two other little ones. The times that the flu found it’s way into our home in spite of flu shots. Knee surgery, injuries, strep throat, the list goes on and on. When I look back, I can see that God never left my side. He made sure there were neighbors, friends and family ready to help when I needed it. Almost nine years without Steve and we’re not only surviving, we’re thriving.
I recently read somewhere that the word “Widow” is a Badge of Honor. I have been to the very depths of pain and suffering but I’ve come out on the other side. I’ve learned to enjoy the sun shining on my face. I’ve embraced change while I’ve faced my fears. I’ve fallen in love again and I can see my future with him. It’s my birthday and I will spend the next year wearing my badge of honor proudly, because, with God’s help, I am living and loving my life!
A friend of mine recently posted some old pictures of me and Steve on Facebook. There was a picture of the two of us and some group pictures that were taken at an amusement park back in 1987. We were in high school. I was in 10th grade and Steve was a Senior. It’s funny how I remember that trip to the amusement park as if it happened yesterday!
Seeing those pictures made me smile because we had some really great times! Steve and I were together for 19 years and married for ten years. We truly grew up together and seeing old pictures of us makes me realize just how young we were when we fell in love with each other. I know how unique it is to meet your future husband in the ninth grade but I also know that God had a plan for us. I believe that our destiny was to create a family and we needed to do that before Steve was taken from this Earth. We fell in love at a young age because it wasn’t meant for Steve to ever grow old. He will forever be 35 years old.
When I look at pictures of us, I don’t feel that familiar ache in my heart anymore. It’s as if I’m looking at photos of someone else. It sort of feels like that life wasn’t real. So much has changed since Steve’s been gone and I’m a different woman now too. My world was shattered when he died. I had a baby. I got married and divorced. I sold our house and bought a new one. I changed jobs. My children are no longer babies and I’ve raised them alone. I am more independent than I ever knew I could be when Steve was here.
After eight years, I am not longing for the life I shared with Steve anymore. I will always miss the father of my children, my high school sweetheart, my first husband. But it’s hard to miss a life that is so far gone from the world I live in now. Looking at pictures of us makes me smile because I get to show them to my children. Those pictures are their proof that they were created within a loving marriage. Those photos show the brown eyes shared by my daughter and youngest son, the dark brown hair of my oldest son and it shows the happiness of both of their parents at a time when life was good.
It was nice to be reminded of a youthful trip to an amusement park when I was just a teenager in love. The best part of seeing those pictures, though, was realizing how far I’ve come during these eight years. I know that I’m healing because memories bring smiles now instead of tears. It’s been a long journey and I believe I deserve some happiness now. I know that’s what Steve would want for me and I believe he’s smiling down from Heaven with me.
Three days until Christmas and I am filled with gratitude. As I look around my home, I have a sense of peace that I have not felt for more than eight years. This is the first Christmas that I can remember, since Steve died, that I’m not filled with a longing for a complete family. Ever since he died, our family has felt like part of it was missing. I have not been able to enjoy the holidays without missing Steve, wishing he was here to share in our joy. Although I still wish he could share in the magic of this season with our children, our family finally feels complete. Perhaps we have closed the hole that was left by his death. Our family is the four of us. We don’t need anyone else to make us feel complete anymore. I can be at home with just my children and feel happy, content and secure in the choices I’ve made since Steve died. I am not exactly sure how I’ve gotten to this point. When did the healing occur? When did I decide that my children are all that I need to be whole? Somewhere along the past eight years, God has worked a miracle in me. He has made me whole again.
My faith has sustained me through the grief of losing my husband, through the birth of my baby and through the subsequent eight years. I have not always made good decisions. I remarried too soon, to the wrong person. It was a decision made out of grief and fear. I was afraid of raising my children alone. I became a parent within marriage and I wanted to raise them within marriage. For some reason that I may never know, however, God decided that I would raise my children as a single mother. It was only after accepting His decision that I was able to leave that marriage. I had to realize that I was a better mother when I was strong and happy, whether or not I was married.
My faith has led me to a place where I could fall in love again. This time, I am enjoying being in love without feeling the need to rush into marriage. I don’t feel guilty when I think of spending the rest of my life with this person. I am excited at the prospect of a life with him. Those who know me have said that I am happier than they’ve seen me since Steve died. God has blessed me and I know that no matter what happens, God will never leave me.
As we celebrate Christmas this year, I am going to enjoy every minute of it. I am spending Christmas Eve alone with my children. We will go to church and thank God for sending his Son to die for us. We will watch Christmas movies and make gingerbread cookies. We will spend Christmas Day with our extended family and it will be a blessed holiday. I love my children and I love being a mother. Thank you, Lord.
The holiday season…a time for family and friends to be together. A time to be happy for the people in our lives. A time to rejoice in the birth of our Savior.
For those who are grieving, however, the holiday season can be the hardest time of the year. It’s when we look around and see happy families but our heart is broken for our loss. It’s a reminder that our family is no longer whole. There is an ache in the heart of a grieving soul during the holidays and it seems impossible to fill it. No matter how many smiles we put on, no matter how many presents we receive, no matter how many hymns we sing, what we really want for Christmas is our loved one.
This is my ninth holiday season without Steve but I can still remember the grief of our holidays so clearly. I spent our first Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s in a state of shock and denial. I was sure that his death was a bad dream and I would wake up any minute from my nightmare. The second holiday season, I bought a new tree and all new ornaments. I was determined to make Christmas “normal” for my children, but I still wasn’t ready to pull out the decorations that Steve and I had shared in our home. The next few years, I tried to pretend that everything was ok, that I was “over” my grief. I had remarried so I went through the motions of being happy, even though I constantly felt like a fish out of water. I would look around and wonder whose life I was living. I would constantly ask myself, “How did I get here?” Nothing in my life felt right, but I thought it was the way it was supposed to be since Steve was gone. I was wrong.
When I divorced, I felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. My children and I could enjoy our lives again. I started this blog a year ago. When I began writing, I didn’t know if anyone would be interested in what I had to say. Over the past year, I’ve found healing in helping others. I have renewed my faith in God and His plan for my life. I can honestly say that this is the first holiday season that I am enjoying since Steve died over eight years ago. I have finally found “me” again. My children are doing well and our home feels complete again. It is not as if we don’t miss Steve. We do and we always will. It’s just that we’ve all found a way to be whole again, without the ache of his loss coloring our joy.
When I look at my children, I see their father reflected in them. The older they get, the more it makes me smile to see his personality coming through their actions. Perhaps I have been able to heal because I feel him with me every day? He isn’t really gone if they continue to live and it just took me all these years to realize it.
‘Tis the season for joy and I intend to enjoy every minute of it this year!
Some days it’s just better to keep busy…to have so many things to do that I don’t have time to think, time to grieve. Today is one of those days. October 22nd. The anniversary of Steve’s death.
I have spent many of these anniversaries curled up in my bed, unable to do anything but relive that awful day. October 22nd, 2004. A day of worry, hope, shock, denial, grief. A day that is forever a part of my soul.
As it is with my grief, I have been feeling this anniversary coming for about a week or so. I’ve been more emotional. I’ve cried for no apparent reason. Today, I feel sad for my children, sad for the old me: Steve’s wife. I’m at a crossroads in my life this year and I feel it….I am truly happy for the first time since Steve died so it’s hard for me to grieve him the way that I’ve always done, as my best friend and soul mate.
I am a different person since Steve died. I am a confident and secure single Mom. I am strong in my Christian faith. I have a wide circle of friends and a wonderful boyfriend. I wonder if Steve would even recognize me today?
I have always missed Steve, my high school sweetheart, the man who could make me laugh in any situation, my best friend. I do still miss him, but it’s different now. I miss the father of my children. I wonder what he would say and what he would do when I am parenting them. I love to remember him and tell our children stories about him. I think it’s my job to keep him alive for them. How will they know that he didn’t like mushrooms if I don’t tell them?
I don’t want to grieve anymore. I want to be happy. I’ve learned that life is short so I’m grabbing every moment of happiness that I can while I’m here. I am keeping busy today: working, running errands, taking my children to appointments. I don’t want to remember what I was doing at this very moment, eight years ago today. If I start to remember, I will fall apart. I remember every minute of that day and I don’t want to relive it. Not today. Not again.
I started my day with a prayer, I’ve prayed several times already today and I know God will help me make it through this anniversary. I have a lot to do. I will keep busy. I don’t know if this is avoiding the grief or just choosing NOT to grieve, but it’s how I’ll spend this anniversary. I want to embrace the happiness in my life and I don’t want to go back to that day. Not today.
There’s one thing that I’ve learned on this journey of widowhood: life doesn’t stop for grief. As much as I wished I could curl up and just grieve, the world still existed. My children needed to be fed. I had to go to work. In fact, my experience has been that the world expects grief to last a year. During that first year, people are more patient with grieving souls. They understand your grief, they accept it and you are encouraged to grieve.
After the first year, however, you are expected to “be over” it. It’s no longer acceptable to break down in tears for no apparent reason, to be exhausted because your grief is the worst at night, to have a hard time concentrating. What I found, though, was that the second year without Steve was actually harder than the first year. During my first year, I was pregnant and just trying to make it from day to day. My life centered around my children and the new baby I was carrying. Our first holidays without Steve are a blur. I went through the motions, for my children’s sake, with the goal of just making it through those days. The first Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, the kids’ birthdays, the birth of our baby, our wedding anniversary, Father’s Day. If I could just make it through the first year, I thought I would be okay.
I was wrong. The second year without Steve turned out to be the hardest of all. I had to find a new “normal” for me and the kids. I had a new baby to care for, all by myself. There was no denying that Steve was gone and he would not be coming back. I had to accept this life that God had given me. I started dating again. The world expected me to be healed but I was far from over the grief of losing him. It has taken several years for me to feel as if I am healed. I made terrible mistakes during my grief. I married the wrong man because I thought that being married would make me a better mother. I dated to avoid loneliness. I drank too much to self-medicate the pain. My journey of grief did not end after one year.
Steve’s birthday was last week. It has been almost eight years since he died. When I reminded my son about his dad’s birthday, he said to me, “That’s gonna be a hard day for you, Mom.” My children have grown accustomed to my grief and they know that certain days of the year are harder for me than others. I am happy to say, though, that my grief has subsided into thankfulness for the memories, love and children that Steve blessed me with during his lifetime. I cried for a few minutes on his birthday but then I showered and got ready for work. Life goes on.
I have always felt the need to be perfect. I was a straight A student. I was involved in MANY extra-curricular activities. I finished college before I got married. I had children after I bought my first house. I lived my life the way I was “supposed” to live it, right?
When Steve died, my life changed instantly. We had been together for 19 years and I was thrust into a foreign world without him. I didn’t know how to be a parent without the other half of my support system to help me. I didn’t know when my car needed an oil change. I didn’t know where the spare light bulbs were kept in my house. There were so many details of our life together that Steve handled and suddenly I had to do it all on my own. I was overwhelmed and had no choice but to let go of being perfect as I leaned on my faith that God would somehow help me get through this crushing loss.
As I prayed for God to help me, others stepped in to do what I could not do for myself. Friends would care for my children when I was in and out of the hospital having pre-term labor. Family members traveled from Michigan to Georgia to stay with us. Strangers brought Christmas gifts to my children. My lawn would “magically” be mowed. The list goes on and on. God made sure our needs were met by the angels He sent to us.
As time has gone on and I’ve grown in my faith, I’ve come to realize that there is and only will be ONE perfect person and that’s not me! I’ve had to do a lot of letting go over the past seven years and I’ve had to ask for help too. With three active children, sometimes I need help getting them from one place to another. I used to feel guilty because my children have more household chores than other children, but now I am proud of how responsible they are becoming as they’re growing into young adults. My children will know how to take care of themselves because I couldn’t do it all for them. My children have learned about compromise because sometimes I have to choose between them when there are two or more activities happening at the same time. I am only one person and I can only be in one place at a time. In a perfect world, their dad would still be here but, our reality is that he’s gone and there’s only one parent in our home.
Letting go of perfect has freed me in so many ways. I am able to enjoy my life without the constant weight of worrying whether or not I’m doing things the “right” way. I am on a journey and I am free to make mistakes. God has blessed me with three amazing children and I love my life, imperfections and all!
My life with Steve is starting to feel like a dream. It’s been so long now that he’s been gone, I’ve forgotten the sound of his voice, the feel of his touch. In some ways, I think that’s a good thing. It’s only when I’m not physically longing for him that I’m able to truly open my heart and love someone new. I would like to think that losing the love of my life when I was just 32 years old means that God intends for me to have TWO loves of my life. One for creating children (Steve) and one with which I was meant to grow old. Some are blessed to have just one love of their life: they create children and grow old with the same person. That was not God’s plan for my life.
As I am losing the real “feel” of Steve, so are my children. In some ways, this is very sad. I lost my dad when I was just nine years old so I know how heartbreaking it is for a child to realize that they can’t remember specific things about their parent. I would grieve sometimes just for the fact that I didn’t remember him. I was lonely because I didn’t have A dad, not because I missed MY dad. How can you miss someone that you don’t remember?
In other ways, though, losing the memories means letting go of the grief. I am relieved that my children don’t cry as often as they used to for Steve. They spend most of their days enjoying their lives and being happy. Life without a dad is all that they know and we have settled into our own routine as a family.
My oldest son is starting high school in the fall yet he was in first grade when his dad died. I was startled to realize that I have raised him throughout his entire educational career, all on my own. It really puts into perspective how long Steve has been gone. I am proud of the young man that Cameron is growing into and I know that Steve would be too. I see so much of his father in him, it’s as if Steve is not really gone at all. Cameron looks like Steve and he has the same mannerisms and sense of humor. I am constantly being reminded of Steve as a teenager and it makes me smile to know that so much of him is still here with us.
My daughter is starting middle school in the fall but she was only in preschool when her dad died. She is a strong-willed, independent, athletic little girl who has the best of both of us. If Steve were here, he would say that she gets her ambition from me while she is fearless like him. As a straight-A student and competitive gymnast, both characteristics are serving her well!
At seven years old, my little man is finally realizing what it means that he doesn’t have a daddy. I have caught him crying and holding Steve’s picture. He never met Steve so it’s not really the person that he’s missing. Connor is grieving for a loss that happened before he was born. He’s sad because he sees his friends with their dads and he knows that he doesn’t have the same thing. It’s been really hard for me to see my baby hurting. All these years, Connor was the only one of us who didn’t grieve Steve’s death. It was like he was protected from our pain and, as a mother, I was relieved for him. Now, though, I can’t shield him from the fact that he only has one parent. Unfortunately, it’s our reality and, even at seven years old, he’s learning that there are some things that just can’t be changed.
This time of year, the ending of the school year, has left me feeling full of pride for these children that Steve and I created. They are growing into amazing people and I know that it is only with the help of God that I’ve been able to raise them. I also know that as we all move forward and let go of our grief, we will be able to live the lives that God intended for us. In my heart, I know that’s what Steve would want for the four people he loved most in this world!
It’s my birthday and as I sit here, reflecting on last year and looking forward to the next one, I’m struck by how far I’ve come since the day that Steve died. I have settled into my role as an only parent but welcome help from others who love my children. Parenting on my own has not been easy. With three children, I am often in a bind when it comes to getting them all where they need to be at any given time. I honestly don’t know how I would do it without the support and encouragement I’ve received from friends and family throughout this journey of widowhood.
Widow Plus Three 