I AM LOSING BOB BIT BY BIT EVERY DAY

It seems like every day since Bob went Home, I lose more of him every day.

Bit by bit.

It smarts.

I feel like every breath I take in this new life of mine – a life Bob no longer inhabits – puts more distance between us. I am here; and he is there. And the gulf between us is so very vast.

I understand that my husband now dwells in a different dimension: we discussed Heaven together many, many times over the past decades following his 2^nd death & subsequent salvation – I know he is there, in our faraway Home. With our furry companions. Waiting for me to join him.

But in the meantime, during this brief intermission period of our separate lives, life here on Earth marches forward; dragging me along reluctantly with it. And while it marches forward, changes occur.

The newest change in my life will take place soon. There have been so many changes over the past 9 months/17 days/1 hour & 32 mins; but, these new changes are taking place in our home: promises are being collected.

When Bob graduated to a higher level of living in December 2018, promises were made by me to our children and grandchildren. Alex collected all he is going to get for himself & his girls – what is left will now be divided between our daughter (the sister he has always hated & ignored), and her children (the middle & last grandchildren; our grandchildren together). Those promises made, the tail-end of December 2018, entailed ½ our California King-sized bed, the double bed, Bob’s lift chair, and his standing upright toolbox; to be collected when Alyna & Liam moved from their apartment and got a house. They called last night, giddy with the good news that they have secured a house.

So, they will be coming to collect:

Half of our California King-size bed. It is a fancy electronic bed. The room will feel strange with Bob's half missing ... The bed will feel weird. But, {weird} is my new reality.

The spare bed I don't use - and really don't need; the kids have overnight company on occassion (like Liam's brother) - it will be needful and useful in their new home.

Bob's lift chair. Alyna wants this chair specifically. She misses her 'Gramps'.

I did make the promise. I did expect it to be collected.

But now that it is becoming a reality … I am not fully ready.

All I can think is, “More and more of Bob is disappearing from my life every day”.

I WANT them to have these things. I don’t need both sides of the bed now – Bob is no longer here, sleeping next to me. I don’t need the double bed now: I haven’t seen my grandson in ages, and I don’t really have over-night company … when I do, I can haul out the inflatable beds. I don’t need Bob’s lift-chair: I do sit in it, but I don’t need it – there are plenty of recliners to sit in, including my own – I basically sit in Bob’s chair so it does not become a phycological hinderance. I am HAPPY the kids are finally realizing their hopes & dreams, and that life for them is becoming more solidified in their maturing. BUT, I am also saddened to watch my life with Bob shrink to almost exclude him, while it morphs into a life solely amplifying me.

Solo.

THAT saddens me.

I KNOW I HAVE BEEN SOLO for the better part of 2019.

But, it is still an adjustment.

It still seems surreal.

I am STILL, at every turn of my new life, unprepared for the soloing.

I do not like the letting go.

I do not like the losing more and more of my husband, bit by bit every day.

It smarts.

Bob & I have, on occasion – when he was working away from home – lived apart. So, being apart from Bob was something I came to adjust to. But, until recently, I NEVER LIVED APART from Bob: I always knew he was, at some point of every week, coming home.

Now, Bob will never come home again.

During those before alone times, I was, on occasion, gathering homey things to add to our home to make it more inviting and comfortable. For my husband; that was part of my job as wife & mother: to make a warm and inviting ‘nest’ for my mate & family.

But in this new life of mine, my alone time is now all about readjustments & downsizing.

Setting up a solo existence.

Every joint account spanning our 44 years together, that Bob had set up for my safety should anything happen to him … was demolished by new updated legalities … and I was forced, legally (and heartlessly, MPO) to close those familiar accounts and set up new ones. Separate from my husband. Apart. Readjustments. And all those readjustments happened outside the house.

They never really affected our home; our private haven – they just affected my heart.

The downsizing, when the kids show up to collect, will be happening in our home. It will be a downsizing of our private sanctuary. And it will affect my life on a whole new level – watching our life together simply disappear before my eyes as each piece of furniture walks out the door to take up residence in another home, to help ease the building of another private haven.

I will smile and congratulate them on their success and happiness.

And I will cry when they drive off with their secured pieces of remnants of my life with my husband.

I WANT them to have these things.

I am HAPPY the kids are finally realizing their hopes & dreams, and that life for them is becoming more solidified in their maturing.

Me, Alyna & Liam back from our work at the family cemetery – at Bob’s Celebration of Life gathering in Eden Valley, August 30^th, 2019. Rosburg Hall.

BUT, I will also be saddened to watch my life with Bob shrink to almost exclude him, while it morphs into a life solely amplifying me.

Those chosen pieces of furniture driving down the highway and crossing into another State won’t leave my house echoing with their removal … but, they will leave an obvious empty spot in my home like Bob’s absence leaves an obvious empty spot in my life, in my heart.

It will be noticeable.

It will be felt.

The furniture – specifically the lift-chair; can, if I choose, be replaced. Alyna wanted something of her grandfather’s in her home … she chose his chair: I agreed. The chair can be replaced here, if I ever decide I want another one. It is only a chair – that he sat in.

Bob can’t be replaced.

But, Bob seems to be disappearing in my life.

Bit by bit.

Every day.

Even though I believe that my husband is all around me, every day, when I cannot physically see him with my eyes – I know this from what Scripture tells me: "therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us lay aside every encumbrance and sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us; fixing our eyes on Yeshua, the author and perfecter of our Faith ..."

So, I do know that Bob’s essence surrounds me every day.

And sometimes, I can actually feel his own personal presence. But in this, I have to be extremely careful. I have to be careful not to supplant my need for my husband with my need for Yeshua.

I knew Bob loved me with undying love when he was still with me physically – I believe Bob loves me still; and I believe Bob is still beside me every day of my new life. But, there are days, when I want more; I crave more than just his essence: I want to see him, I want to hear from him, I want to feel him touch me. I want to KNOW that he is still with me … I want to be cloaked in his presence – and those are the danger days.

That cloaking, that seeing, that hearing, the touching … is taboo.

I KNOW this!

I have been a Christian all my life. I know the rules.

I know the dangers and the pitfalls to avoid. I have read and reread the Scriptures – Old Covenant & New Covenant over and over again until my references are dog-eared and worn with constant page turnings. But reading the warnings and dealing with the warnings on a daily basis was never known until now. In my solo life.

Widowhood is complicated. It is tricky.

Temptations come in many forms.

I am not interested in dating – there is only one love for me: Bob. He was, and always will be my one heart’s desire. I am not interested in forging a new life without him in it – and yet, I know I must. And so, I am learning to let go.

Bit by bit.

It smarts.

When Bob was alive – before he was saved, he told me he was jealous of my relationship with Yeshua because it was all consuming: Yeshua always came 1^st, and Bob was 2^nd. Always. It didn’t make my love for Bob any less … just different, on a different level. Now, it’s a juggling act reversed: now I have to make sure that my longing for my husband does not directly interfere with Yeshua’s standing in my life – I don’t think that could ever happen because I am totally devoted to loving Yeshua. But, I am also devoted to loving my husband. It can get very complicated. It is okay to miss Bob. It is okay to feel Bob walking alongside me with Yeshua, too. It is not okay to talk directly to my husband. It is not okay to seek my husband’s approval or advise for the direction of my life – those actions only belong to Yeshua. Seeking input from my husband, now physically removed from my life, is not okay anymore. Making Yeshua jealous for my attentions and affections now would not be a good thing – it could lead to a total separation from Him, as well as from my husband, in the future: I don’t want that! ALL OF MY LIFE has been a walk with Yeshua, planning on spending eternity with Him; I must not allow anything or anyone to interfere with that plan. NO ONE. Not even my husband.

And Bob always knew that.

So, I don’t feel uncomfortable for making that decisive decision to keep my love for my husband in check; balanced against my own eternal security.

But it does seem like every day since Bob went Home, I lose more of him every day.

Some things I have had to let go out of legal necessities. Some things I have had to let go simply because of readjustments – they no longer meld with my new solo life. And some things … like my husband’s presence, which was SO prevalent in the early months of my raw grief, have just changed: they don’t seem so intense anymore; something has changed. I can’t put my finger on it, but something definitely has changed – there is a growing distance between the “feeling” of my husband’s nearness’s.

And it scares me.

There has always been an awareness of Bob in my life … even before we met & married: I was ALWAYS AWARE of him. And I was always waiting for him to show up in my life.

I do not like this invasive distance – this otherworldly separateness – that is making itself known & felt.

I feel like every breath I take in this new life of mine – a life Bob no longer inhabit – puts more distance between us. I am here; and he is there. And the gulf between us is so very vast.

It seems like every day since Bob went Home, I lose more of him every day.

Bit by bit.

And I wonder if this is by divine design.

To safeguard me & my soul.

To force me to “with-eyes-straight-ahead” stand on my own and move determinedly forward in this, my new life. Solo.

Determinedly Solo.

Those chosen pieces of furniture driving down the highway and crossing into another State won’t leave my house echoing with their removal … but, they will leave an obvious empty spot in my home like Bob’s absence leaves an obvious empty spot in my life.

It will be noticeable.

It will be felt.

And when I close the door after them, and look at the empty spot where the lift-chair sat … and wander to the back rooms: the empty room where the double bed was, and our bedroom – where his bed is no longer in residence, next to mine … I must begin, in earnest, to live the new chapter in my new life.

A life my husband is being slowly removed from.

Bit by bit.

The thought makes my eyes water, and my nose burn.

It smarts.