Four Years Gone

Walking into the light

Four years. What can happen in four years? A whole presidency. College. A baby becomes a pre-schooler in four years. Four years can make a huge difference in the life of a recovering addict. It can be an eternity for a hostage. It may be restitution for a convict. It represents hope for a cancer survivor.

Four years. It is forever for a widow. Or maybe it’s an hour. Same thing. Four years of roller coaster emotions wears on a person. Four years of bracing for the next wave, no matter how subconsciously you’re doing it. It’s always there. The potential of grief. Because, we’ve seen it. We’ve felt it. We are soldiers in a war that was not our choosing. However…we know our ground. Understanding the terrain of grief gives us better footing. We know what’s coming when we feel the next wave rise against us.

Yet…four years has made me compassionate. Four years has gifted me time and distance from the raw, sharp edges of grief that threatened to cut my heart from my chest. The gaping wound is closed. Tiny angels have been working over the scar in my heart these past four years. Their Leader points out the leaky spots and the weak places and they hop to work with their silver threads and golden needles, stitching my soul back together with faith and love, time and patience, courage and strength. There is a scar. Unless you know me well, you might not notice. I see it when I record a video for my grandchildren. Or, when I look into the mirror and let down the shield that covers my eyes. That’s when I “check in” to see how I’m REALLY doing. And I’m doing fine.

Four years gone. Four years. A lifetime…a moment. Pragmatism keeps me focused on the future. There is a light on my horizon…a light of this world. Someday, I’ll walk into that light of yours, but for now…I think I’ll check out what’s in this one. This life I’ve been given. When you left, the emptiness was immeasurable. That hole is filling in…with joy, promise, love, healing, light. But, mostly, its filling with hope. Thank you for the reminders that you were here, that you loved and cherished me. I will always carry you safely tucked in my heart, Mr. Virgo. There’s room enough. ❤️

“Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭55:22‬ ‭ESV‬‬

16 thoughts on “Four Years Gone

  1. Hi Ginny, today is the 5 month mark of losing my love of 7 years. He died suddenly from a massive heart attack also, less than 24 hours of us coming back from vacation in the mountains. Your words give me hope that this pain will ease up in time, yet it’s still very fresh and difficult. Your daily posts have helped me and many others I’m sure. God has blessed you with a heart and mind that reaches out and gives comfort. I know I will figure out my new routine and my new “normal” in time, and my sweetie will be forever in my heart to guide me. Thanks so much for this forum ❤️

    1. Oh, Laura…five months is still so fresh. My heart is with you. Thank you for your kind words and for being here. ❤️

  2. So beautifully written. Prayers for you and keep writing! Mr Vertigo is smiling on you. God has given you a gift like no others! God has a plan for all of us!

  3. Ginny, that was beautiful…such wonderful writing and sharing of the heart. We learn a lot through grief…compassion being one of them. Hope is the key to surviving whether in life or in death. I’m celebrating the fact that you could write this since I remember so well the depth of despair four years ago. Thank you God. <3

  4. That was beautiful. Yesterday was 11 weeks since I lost my husband. In April my daughter and I are heading to my mother in law’s for a celebration of his life on his birthday.

    1. Oh, Debi…eleven weeks. You are still so fresh on this journey. I am so glad you are going to celebrate his birthday with your daughter and his mom. Thank you for being here. I hope you stick around…there’s a lot of really great folks on this page. ❤️


  5. Yesterday I chose to celebrate his 5th month Angelversary…I Soul Strolled while Winter Storm Stella was dumping 2 + feet of snow upon us. He didn’t like winter, I’m not a fan either…but being outside, listening to the silent snowfall, I felt some peace. Tears fell, but then I smiled….I have Hope.

    1. Hope is what got me through those early months, Linda. And now the months have become years and I’ve struck a balance in my life. I am a widow. It is sad that I lost him. But my life is full of live and light again and I am happy. Different…but happy. ❤️

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *