I’ve been struggling today with flashbacks.  Very vivid, very strong, clear, painful flashbacks.  Perhaps this is due to the fact that I’ve been packing up boxes of books and CD’s from the bookcase that sits in the corner where Larry’s hospice bed was… the corner where Larry died.  I’m not sure.  At any rate, I felt compelled to post this piece that I wrote last fall near the one year mark of Larry’s death.

My intent with this piece is not to cause anyone to have anxiety or depression as a result of reading it, but rather to know that questions are a normal part of the grieving process.  It’s okay to wonder things like “where is heaven” and “do you miss me too”?

I would also like to emphasize that each time I have questioned God on the location of heaven I have received an image… a picture in my mind of Jesus.  In one arm Jesus is holding my beloved Larry and in the other he is holding me.  I know this is true!  In this way the Holy Spirit is reminding me that even though we are apart, we are still connected in the love of Christ.  And it doesn’t really matter where heaven is… only that heaven is!  This I also know is true.

This image of Christ’s embrace has gotten me through almost every day since Larry died.

How Far is Heaven?

By Shelley Ann Brandon  October 12, 2010

I was there.  I wasn’t just in the room, I was there!  No one was closer to Larry physically, emotionally, mentally or spiritually than I was.  I was there.  I held him in my arms for the two plus hours that it took for his body to labor through the delivery of his spirit into the hands of our Savior.  I was there.  But I still don’t get it.  My husband died literally in my arms.  My head was on his chest; I felt each and every body wracking breath that shook my soul as well as his.  I heard every heart beat no matter how faint, even the last one, struggling to hear just one more – oh please God just one more – even though I’d been praying for God to please stop Larry’s suffering – Please God no more, don’t make him go through this anymore.  I can’t take it… I can’t take it. I was there when Jesus stopped the suffering and took Larry home.  I was right there, breathing in his last breath, but I don’t understand… where did he go?  I know he went to heaven.  Larry’s relationship with Jesus was his greatest source of pride, his comfort and joy.   Even though his right side was completely paralyzed, he was reaching for heaven with his left arm just that morning when Noah and I woke up.  Noah even asked me why daddy’s arm was in the air.  I know where he went, but where is that?  Where did he go?

How can someone who was so full of life one year before, someone who was larger than life, someone who brought brightness to life wherever he went, how could he just not be here anymore?  What happened?

How can this man who I love more than my own life be gone? We promised each other that we would never leave, that we would grow old together, how could he leave me?  Larry was everything to me, he was my husband, my best friend, my business partner, my ministry partner, my lover, my dreams, my future, the father of my sons. How can he just not be here anymore?

After everyone had left the house and the hospice nurse and I had washed Larry’s body and put him into some clean pajamas, I let the dogs back into the house.  These wonderful poodles that had so faithfully guarded their dying master would no longer go near the empty body of their dead master.  The dogs had figured it out, but I was still holding on.  Where was he, where had he gone?  Where is heaven, anyway?

I finally allowed the hospice nurse to call the undertaker to come get him.  I didn’t want them to come get him because I knew that when they took him away I wouldn’t see him again this side of heaven, and I don’t know where that is.  While we were waiting, Layne (the nurse) and I were talking, and I was holding Larry’s cold, lifeless hand.  I had to keep pushing down on his fingers to keep them curled around mine.  My hands were already starting to feel empty and lonely.  I tried to kiss his lips, but they were cold and stiff, he wasn’t there, he’d already left.

I was there.  Oh my love, I remember the moment you left, but I just don’t get it.  Even now, a year later, I still don’t get it.  If I close my eyes I can hear your laugh.  Certain songs can bring back moments so real that my body aches to touch you one more time, to lay my head against your chest and feel your arms around me.  The scent of your cologne on my pillow each night,ummmm , yummy.  Oh, how I long to smell your neck again. Where are you?

Where is heaven?  Is it beyond the stars? Or is it all around us on the other side of a mirror that we simply cannot see through?  Are you millions of light years away?  Or are you as close as my next breath?  Each and every one of us is only one heartbeat away from God, so does that mean that you are only one heartbeat away as well?

I miss you so much. When is the pain supposed to go away?  Scripture tell us that there are no tears in heaven, so does that mean you don’t miss me?  Where are you?  And where am I supposed to go from here?

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Where do I go from here?  I go to the cross.  I go to the embrace of Christ… one arm around Larry and one arm around me… apart and yet still connected…

And questions are okay with God… after all, He’s the only one with all the answers!These pictures where taken at the Compassion International Headquarters in Colorado Springs on our last vacation together before Larry got sick.  We were both sitting in the lap of Jesus… a life size bronze sculpture they have in their lobby.   Coincidence?  I don’t think so…

After a lot of discussion and prayer, Noah and I have made the decision to move.  After the decision to move was made, the next decision was where?  Several options were tossed about in our talks, but what we decided was most important to us was staying close to family, or more precisely… staying close to where Noah would be able to grow up knowing what it means to be a Brandon.  This is very important to both of us.  Noah needs to know who his daddy was and what kind of man he was.  With all of this in mind, we finally settled on moving to Allendale, MI, the same town where Larry’s younger brother lives with his lovely wife and their three sons.  This is the best solution to an unhappy situation.

My house is a beautiful house.  We have totally remodeled the house cosmetically and it looks wonderful.  New triple pane windows with a transferable life-time warranty, same with the sliders and front door.  New oak floors through out, finished the basement, new cabinets, new appliances, & granite counters in the kitchen, new oak interior doors & trim… this house looks good…except for the clutter!  I need to box up the chachkis and knickknacks, I need to take the pictures off the walls (which I just finally got up before Christmas) and I need to get the unnecessary “stuff” out of here.  I’ve done this before – many times!  We’ve lived in this house 7 years, that is the longest that I’ve lived anywhere since High School graduation.  I know how to get a house ready to sell.  I just can’t get motivated.

Part of this may be due to health issues.  I’ve been dealing with kidney stones for the last month.  Part of may be due to grief issues.  I’m not sure.  The fact is that I want out of this house as much as Noah does, so why do I do nothing about it day after day?   I tell myself each morning exactly what I’m going to accomplish.  By noon I have to accept that I’m going to accomplish nothing.  I look at it, the stacks of stuff, and do nothing about it.  I can’t really blame it on needing to do it alone, I’ve had to do it alone before.  Larry was always busy supporting the family, and I packed up, de-cluttered and staged the house before I even knew what staging was to save money and get the house sold.  This feels different though.  Overwhelming.  I’ve never gone through the whole process completely alone.  I’m not sure what to do… where to start… how to begin.  I don’t have Larry to talk to about everything.  I have Noah and the dogs, they mess things up as soon as they are cleaned.  None of them pick up after themselves.

I don’t know how to do this.  I don’t know how to be single, I don’t know how to sell/buy a house by myself, and I don’t know how to find the motivation to do it.  Any suggestions?

This is a piece I wrote a year ago.  I’m still facing the same emotions regarding Valentine’s Day, not as overwhelming in their strength this year, but still sad… perhaps more melancholy now.  I would like to encourage you to make everyday a celebration of your love for those special people in your life.  Don’t wait for one  greeting card day, that day may be too late…

Valentines. They used to be lopsided hearts cut out of pink and red construction paper and messily glued on to a homemade card with paper doilies and glitter. Or little cards with Be Mine sayings attached to candy, placed into the sacks of each classmate and then eagerly scoured for the sweets and perhaps a special note while eating sugar cookie hearts and red kool-aide.

I can still remember the first Valentine I received from Larry. We had known each other for 3 weeks, but we were already very much in love. The card was very simple, the front covered with pictures of the little candy hearts with phrases on them. Right in the middle of the card was a yellow heart with the words ‘Marry Me’ on it. Two weeks and three days later Larry asked me to marry to him. Every year after that Larry gave me roses and a Valentine card that expressed his love for me and I gave one to him. We always gave cards that expressed our thankfulness to God for bringing us together and our joyful anticipation of the many years ahead. We never anticipated that those years would be cut short by brain cancer.

This year I’m facing my first solo Valentines day in 15 years. I decided a few weeks ago that even though I would not be receiving a Valentine from my dear husband, I could still take one to him… sort of. I had a Valentine wreath made up and took it to the cemetery. It hasn’t made this Hallmark holiday any easier to deal with emotionally though. This was not a day that I was expecting to bring this much pain. To be honest, I hadn’t even thought of Valentine’s day in the list of dreaded firsts. I’d skipped right over it.

Aisles of cards, heart-shaped cookies and cakes, bouquets of roses, TV ads featuring loving couples exchanging cards and beautiful gifts of sparkling jewelry… Everywhere I look I see reminders that I am once again on the outside looking in. I’m no longer the unpopular girl at school who didn’t receive the special valentine or the special note, but I’m no longer part of “we” either.

This holiday is for children and couples. Being torn out of my status as a wife – half of “we” – makes this even more difficult to cope with. This was not my choice. Every reminder that I no longer qualify for couples only events brings back the loneliness of my widowhood. No Sweetheart Dance for me, no card with the tender words of love from the man that I love and miss so much that I ache with it.

Valentine’s Day may seem trivial as holidays go.  A day made up for sole purpose of spending money. I disagree. The money isn’t the purpose of Valentine’s day. What is important about Valentine’s day is that you are intentional about taking the time, finding a meaningful way to communicate to the most important person in your life…. the other half of your “we” that you love them, that you love being married to them. Everyday should be Valentine’s day.