Dance With Me

I recently went to dinner with a dear friend on the one year anniversary of her fiance’s death. We went to his favorite restaurant, ordered his favorite appetizer, enjoyed his favorite entree and ate dessert in his memory. It was a special time, and I was honored to be included in her night as she experienced the weight of what this day meant–365 days without her person.

As I sat there with her that night, I could not help but think about what is looming ahead for me as well. In the coming weeks, it will be my turn. I will reach the day–365 days without my person.

In this journey I never asked for or wanted to walk, the one-year mark is like a destination that has constantly been on the horizon. With each passing day–the ordinary ones, the holidays, the special occasions–the destination has inched closer. It is a place that everyone who experiences a significant loss must reach. One year. When all of the firsts are finally behind you. 

I remember being completely overwhelmed on that day. I was in shock, encumbered in grief and pain. I was drowning in fear. How will I do this? How are my children going to handle this? How will I have the strength to carry on? What is my life going to look like? How will we celebrate birthdays and holidays without him? Am I going to survive? Will I ever be able to sleep again? Will I laugh again? Is it okay if I smile? 

The one year anniversary of Tensey’s death has felt like a place, a goal, a target that has held my focus. If I could just get there, I would tell myself. 

And now that there is so close, what does it mean to have arrived? What once seemed so far away, is finally within reach. I know now that grief will never be over. But the one-year mark does feel like something has come to an end. For me, it is the end of the unknown and all of those firsts. Many of the questions that swirled around me on that dreadful day almost one year ago have been answered. 

I survived. My children are thriving. My granddaughters are growing. I found the strength. I have slept. I have laughed and I have definitely smiled. 

As this one year date approaches, I have spent so much time thinking about Tensey and what I miss about him the most. I did not know how to articulate it exactly. And then I saw it on Instagram. A reel of this couple in Alaska. The camera on their front porch captured her as she was walking up the snowy steps carrying groceries. She slips and falls to the ground–groceries everywhere. She starts crying and screaming for her husband. He opens the door, music is playing from the house, and he looks at her and says, “Dance with me.” 

In the middle of the snow and cold, amidst strewn groceries and spilled milk, he danced with her. It wasn’t about the groceries all over the porch or the mess; it was just about her. Soon she was smiling and laughing. He made everything better. 

And I thought, that’s it. That is what I miss the most about Tensey. He made everything better. With all of my faults and failures in life. On all of my worst days and even on my best days, Tensey was always there saying, “Dance with me.” 

As life moves forward and my children and I carry on, and as that one-year mark arrives, I close my eyes and I can see Tensey reaching for me. I hear him.

Dance with me, Michelle.

And, I know I will again one day. 

The Power of Words

From an early age, I recognized the power in words; the weight they can carry. I also understood how they could come together to create a story that could connect and impact those who read them. I knew it as a reader, and I also knew that I had an overwhelming desire to be a part of that. To write.

To this day, I still have my backpack full of short stories and poems typed on a typewriter throughout my teenage years. Short stories, both typed and handwritten, stuffed into folders and old spiral notebooks. 

I have journals of phrases penned, quotes jotted down, letters written, and lists of writing ideas. 

Times have changed and spiral notebooks and typewriters have been replaced with Google Docs and the Notes section of my iPhone, but my desire to write things down, to create, has not changed. 

The past several years have been the most challenging of my life. There were times I found myself awake in the night, my mind racing with words and ideas. Other times I have been numb, and at a loss for words. And so, the urge to write was buried, maybe even seemingly lost.  

But, I still longed for a place to share my writings. A place where others could visit and maybe even connect in some way. So, I created my website–Foundations of Sapphires. 

It is through this site that I could share my story and in turn ask others to share theirs. Interestingly enough, during the most quiet and darkest time in my life, the connection through my site has been the loudest. 

In the past few months, I have heard from several people who found their way to my site by longing to learn more about sapphires. Whether the presence of sapphires in scripture or their healing powers, the search led them here and they have shared their stories with me. 

One woman wrote:

I'd love to tell you my story. But, this note isn't about me.

I was looking for a verse about the foundation of sapphire stones to share with a special friend who had never heard it.

I stumbled upon your blog. I've looked up verses so many times and this [is] truly the first time I came across a blog. So, I read it. Then I read more. You are a gifted writer. Your blogs stopped with the Queen.

I can't begin to know why. But, I do pray that you start writing again. This world, at this time needs your words of encouragement. Needs your transparency. It needs the 'real'.

We all go through heartache, agonizing grief and pain so unbearable you wonder if your breath will fail you.

If that is the cause of you no longer writing, then I encourage you to pick up your pen and write again. Tell your story again.

Wow–power in her words.

And, there were others. The woman who had been a victim of incest; struggling to feel beautiful and to accept the love from her husband. 

The woman who has become the caretaker of her mother suffering from dementia. Grieving her mother while she is still here.

The woman, estranged from her father for most of her life and whose mother was killed tragically in a car wreck by a drunk driver, who spiraled into depression and grief. 

She wrote, “I don’t even know your name. But I love your stories. I was just telling my story to my brother-in-law today. How God had promised me before my Mom died (unexpectedly) that he would give me foundations of sapphires.”

Through my darkness, these strangers have been a light and an inspiration to find my voice again. To find the words. And, to move forward with hope.

Details of my life and my story have been updated to reflect where I am now–today. Honestly, I don’t know about tomorrow, what it will bring, or when I will want to write something to post. But, I do know that I have this place, this website where I can share. And, so can others. 

My story continues.
The foundation remains.
The connection is real.
And the words carry on.