My Third Year

My Second Year was titled such that it was my second year of figuring out life after Rick died. The title signaled something – it signaled some connection between his death and grieving, and my life and future. I hoped that some transition would take place during My Second Year and I believe it has (although I’d be interested in your thoughts about that issue).

The rest of my life will not be strictly defined based on the number of years away from Rick’s death. The rest of my life will be defined, instead, by obedience to the call of God. Perhaps My Second Year readied me for this perspective…a transition of thought and heart.

Rick’s death will always be a part of me, but it will no longer be the biggest part of me. That piece of my life will find a new home in me…somehow, somewhere. I have a peaceful sense that my memory of him and our lives together will find its proper place according to the grace of God.

As I contemplate my third year, such a title as My Third Year seems irrelevant or inappropriate. This next year will have little relevance to Rick’s death and the work of grieving and healing (not that all grieving and healing ceases). Over the course of My Second Year, my future has become my future rather than what should have been our future together.

So, what does that mean for my third year? My Third Year won’t exist. Well…it won’t exist in blog form. Praise God that he has truly turned my mourning into gladness and has given me comfort and joy instead of sorrow (Jeremiah 31:13b).