Answered and Unanswered Prayers

November 29, 2022


This is my first Thanksgiving without you.

The gulf of emptiness feels as bottomless as the ocean is deep. I remember last year: we were on our own, which we welcomed so you had more time to rest. We cherished the time alone together.

This year I will be going to Lexi’s to be a part of Thanksgiving with Ethan’s family. They are always willing to allow me to be a part of their celebrations. This simple act brings up different emotions in me. First, it is humbling. Second, it makes the loneliness that much greater. I feel like my body is there but I am looking in a window from the outside, viewing a family gathering, wishing for the warmth and lightheartedness I felt before your passing.

I have had trouble feeling God’s presence since you died.

Mainly, I have come to realize through Grief Share, it is because He has not answered my main question: Why you? Why did He need you home with Him? And yet, when I get quiet and think of all the things He HAS put in my path, I know He has not abandoned me. I have rekindled friendships from the past, and I am thankful for all the family and friends in my life who continue to reach out to me, knowing I continue to have difficult days ahead. I have people who will help me. All I have to do is ask.

The continual asking for help, however, gets harder now than when you were fighting cancer. I think part of this is because I am not sure what aid I should ask for, and also, because I do not want people to think I am taking advantage of their good intentions. With my fibromyalgia some of the tasks I need help with will never go away, unlike someone without this affliction who can do things that seem rather simple, such as shoveling snow or mowing the lawn.

This Thanksgiving I will be digging deep to fully feel the gratitude for what I have, as there is a numbness over me now.

I hope others who are grieving understand what I am saying; you can be grateful superficially, or you can feel it in your bones. I want to feel it in my bones again, like I used to, because I am fortunate for the blessings in my life. Colson, our beautiful grandson, is a big one of course; the family and friends who hug me daily from near and far—I feel every one of those embraces; for Leo, our dog, keeping me company and making me laugh with his antics; and the support systems out there I am able to tap into to help me through this pain. Most importantly, even through my grief, I realize how LUCKY I am to have had you in my life, the love we shared, the family and memories we made together. We had more joy in our lives than troubles. It is not lost on me how many people are unable to say that. I am a fortunate woman, indeed!

With all my love,


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