It’s been no secret that I have been spending a lot of time recently revisiting (maybe even reliving a bit), processing, and learning from the past. As we draw closer to this “climax” of the anniversary of Kendall’s death next week, I have been thinking more about the experience as a whole. What overall lessons were there? In what ways was the Lord’s hand evident throughout all of it? What things in my life helped prepare me (and my family) for being able to survive through that?
Truthfully, it’s a bit difficult to pinpoint where everything really started, as there are so many strands that carefully weaved together over time to bring us to that day in August 2020 when everything changed so fundamentally for our family. But as I have been pondering things, I have come to the conclusion that for me, the “story” really began in the summer of 2019. That entire summer I kept having strong feelings, almost a weight, and nagging impressions that I needed to prepare myself and my family for…something. Something big was coming, but I didn’t know what.
I remember discussing those feelings with Kenny and a few friends, and expressing that I didn’t know what to do with those premonitions. We went about our busy life of work and raising four children and church responsibilities, but we did begin to make a few changes that would prove to be pivotal for how our family was able to make it through everything as well as we did, as well as we have. We got on better top of our finances, Kenny and I started spending one on one time every day with each child, we were more intentional about doing dates together, I made some changes in how our home was organized and run, and so on. Small things, but changes nonetheless.
Then that fall we started a large kitchen remodel (total gutting, actually, that ended up including that entire level of our home) that proved to be beyond STRESSFUL, and so disruptive, and took months longer than we had originally anticipated. I was trying to still see clients in my home in the midst of all of that. Then my mom got sick. Then I had a (completely unexpected) miscarriage, with all of the physical and emotional difficulties that entails. Yet despite feeling so overwhelmed I thought, “Good thing I had those feelings to prepare, I’m barely making it through even with that!” And then when a global pandemic hit, I once again thought, “Oh, THIS was why I had those feelings! Who could have imagined something this hard?” I had so much fear with the pandemic, not just being worried about my mom, but knowing how high risk I was for serious complications with COVID. I simply couldn’t imagine my family being OK if I were to die (oh ye of little faith, Suzanne of the past!).
In hindsight, of course, I know that much bigger trials and challenges were coming. Things that would stretch me, physically and mentally and emotionally and even spiritually, past what I could have imagined would be possible. It’s interesting to view those other “overwhelming and SUCH hard” trials the year prior as becoming some of the building blocks that helped strengthen me and allow me to navigate through what was coming.
While I know that the Lord was aware of and helping me, living through those unbelievably intense minutes and hours and days and weeks and months in that hospital (and at home), I felt so very very alone in what I was experiencing. I remember the doctor assuring me that if Kendall was able to leave, that he would not remember his time there in the ICU. I was grateful that he wouldn’t be haunted by the terror and the incredible pain he experienced there, but I was also flooded with the realization that I would never be able to forget. That there would be no one else to share what that experience was like. There was no one else there sitting with me, able to give me a hug or cry with me, or able to help with the many many (horrible, gut-wrenching) decisions I kept having to make. No one else who witnessed what that experience truly was like for Kendall. Then there was that feeling of constantly shielding and protecting him from the burdens I was carrying, while also protecting the world from the extent of the horror that was happening in that hospital. And all on my own.
Except, was I? Despite being “alone” in that hospital room, I know that I was not really asked to go through this alone. I can see that there were ways the Lord helped me to have the support I would need, things that were put into place well beforehand that would play a large role in how I “got through.” I certainly recognize the staggering level of support I have had throughout the past year and a half.
Surely it wasn’t an accident that about a year before the pandemic I reconnected and became close again with some friends from college (I’ve mentioned them several times in these posts and ways they have helped me), that I started a “lunch bunch” around the same time with several other women whom I would get even closer to (the same group of women who were so supportive on my “girls’ retreat” the weekend of my birthday), or that last January my sister was able to move here from Texas with her family and has helped me and my children in countless ways. There are so many people whom I have connected with or been supported by through this Meal Train platform. And of course the wonderful friends and groups (like my amazing book club) I belonged to, or the members of my ward, or my family, who have remained so loving and supportive in my life. Really, I could go on and on. While the trials and challenges have been monumental, beyond extreme, there have been an equal number of compensating blessings. Isn’t that remarkable?
That brings me to now, where I am once again feeling those whisperings that I need to prepare, for….something. While I cannot predict the future, I don’t think that (this time) there is necessarily some massive, seemingly insurmountable, trial looming on the near horizon for our family. But as I have now (almost) made it through this year of grief and healing, I am more and more looking ahead to the future and feeling an urgency to focus on developing into who the Lord intends me to be. That there is so much more to come, for me to BECOME. Isn’t that exciting?
(And aww, totally unrelated, but look at little Suzanne and Kenny on their honeymoon. So young, and so happy!)
