My Story - Part 1

Personal stories are very important. As you look at the material in this blog, you are likely curious about my own story and why I am interested in helping other widows and widowers. In Part 1 I will share my own story of loss, and in Part 2 I will share my motivation to help others who are walking similar paths of grief.

It was Saturday, October 25, 2003. For weeks I had made preparations for our church to host a satellite-simulcast marriage conference. For two days I had sat next to my wife, Cyndi, as we listened to speakers like Gary Smalley and others talk about marriage. As the conference came to a close, Cyndi and I held each other's hands and gazed into each other's eyes as we renewed our marriage vows along with more than 100 other couples in the room, plus thousands more participating in the same simulcast across the nation.

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love you, to honor you, to cherish you and to protect you, forsaking all others as long as we both shall live."

After the conference concluded, Cyndi left the church to go home, check on our young children, and drive the babysitter back to her own house.

I continued the work of putting things away and resetting the sanctuary for Sunday morning's services. It was the weekend to change our clocks, and somewhere in the midst of my massive to-do list and the confusion between having some clocks already changed and others not yet changed, I lost track of time.

As I completed my work, I went to the church office to make some copies. Two men entered the church through the nearby doorway. One was my senior pastor and dear friend, Jeff Hinds. I did not recognize the other man. With grave looks on their faces, they asked me to join them in Jeff's office. Bewildered, I followed them, my head already beginning to fill with questions about what might be going on.

The stranger gave me his name and identified himself as the chief of police in a neighboring town. Then he said in a straightforward manner, yet with a quivering voice, "There's been a terrible automobile accident. I'm sorry to say your wife didn't make it."

The room swirled. It felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Jeff had wisely slid a chair behind me so I would have somewhere to land when I collapsed under the weight of the news. I honestly don't remember the next few minutes very clearly.

Somewhere in the blur, I heard the officer say that my children were in the car, but were alive and okay, and waiting for me at the hospital down the street. Somehow, Jeff had already made some hurried phone calls to various friends, so one friend was already at the hospital with the children until I could be there with them. At the hospital other close friends, stunned and filled with grief, joined us over the next couple of hours.

From the hospital waiting room, as my children were being entertained with videos and snacks from the cafeteria, I made the most difficult calls to my parents and Cyndi's parents. They called the rest of the family members, and all of them started on the road within a few hours' time, driving long distances to be with me during those first dark days of grief.

Thus began a painful and unwelcome chapter in my life. Nobody in their right mind would invite this kind of pain, but sometimes pain like this invades our lives without our permission.

As a young husband, I had seldom considered the possibility that my wife might die at an early age. I was focused on the logistics of daily life and our dreams for the future. When Cyndi passed away, my world shattered. Perhaps you can relate.

This is continued in "My Story - Part 2."
http://helpforwidowsandwidowers.blogspot.com/2012/05/my-story-part-2.html