12th Anniversary

No one said that it was going to be easy surviving my husband's suicidal death.. but, no one told me how difficult this was going to be.

Today marks the 12th anniversary of Rob's death. I think about how some people have said: "It's time to move on with your life and get over your husband's death." 

I consider those words in total thoughtfulness. If you have been following my posts on Facebook about my late husband suicidal death, you will know that I've often said I would never wish this experience of surviving a suicidal death, on anyone else.

I don't think that you ever get "over" the death of someone you dearly loved. You may get "through" it and with God's grace you move forward and on with your life.

Somehow there is still a great gaping chasm that nothing (but God) can fill in the midst of the memories, in the midst of the grieving, in the midst of the mourning.

Most of the time in this past 2 years, I have believed that I am through the grief and mourning stages. and then big mile markers, like today being the 12th anniversary of Rob's suicidal death. The tears have lessend, and the waves that used to wash over me so often, have become long lapses of time between the waves washing over me... The one truth remains- I miss my husband dearly.

I am reposting the below post because I can't really say it much better today than I did then.

Please remember well Rob Wallace with me today.

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=pfbid02UF9oCKJAmfnG3aApu9jbPj6HfSJKA7dAMSgkuUnCg5WdtgophCdtV4vFb3CraAHtl&id=789262969&mibextid=ZbWKwL

 I am missing Rob on my birthday....

"In the depths of despair,
a heartache untold,
A tale of loss and anguish,
yet to unfold.
My husband, once a pillar,
now lost in the night,
His soul consumed by a tragic plight.

The weight of his suffering,
I'll never comprehend,
Alone here I stand,
As torrents of emotions,
crash against my soul,
Tears that once flowed ceaselessly, somehow gently consoled.

The emptiness he left behind,
a gaping hole,
A void that engulfs me,
devouring me whole.
Questions echo in the silence, haunting my mind,
Why did he choose to leave his life behind?

The memories we shared,
now a bittersweet reminder
of love's fragile reign.

There are no answers,
no solace to be found,
In this aftermath of darkness,
my heart is bound.
But in the depths of sorrow,
a flicker remains,
A determination to rise
above life's disdain.

For though he succumbed to his demons' embrace,
I will forge a new path,
in his memory, with grace.
To honor his spirit,
to keep his light aglow,
And find a way to heal,
to let my  heart grow.

In the midst of despair,
I discover resilience,
A strength I never knew,
in the face of defiance.
I'll carry his love within me,
as I journey ahead,
Embracing life's challenges,
however they spread.

Though the pain may linger,
a sometimes companion,
I'll learn to coexist,
to discover expansion.
For in the tapestry of life,
his thread may be frayed,
But his spirit endures,
my heart unafraid
I'll take each step forward,
with courage and might,
In this dance with grief,
seeking rays of light.
For even in the darkest of night,
hope still gleams,
And in the depths of my soul,
love redeems."

© Kimberly Anne Wallace 06/15/23

11th Anniversary

 It is now officially March 10th ...

Earlier today (March 9) I realized, I kept myself busy - making lemon marmalade, taking pictures of the snow here in Redding (partial white out - 6 inches of snow), sharing homegrown salad greens (from a friend's greenhouse garden) with a home made meal... And then working on a second batch of lemon marmalade because my 1st batch I messed up badly trying to make it "healthy" by using date sugar. Ugh! It tasted terrible and never jelled! Never mind phone calls and conversations to and from East Africa...

It's 12:35 AM. I should be sound asleep, but I'm wide awake… thinking about my late husband Rob. AND missing him. Still.

There are parts of me that ache from missing Rob so much. His smile, laughter, corny jokes, the way he cared about people and how he played the Holy Ghost filled Kenny G sax. Yet parts of me still gets angry at him for choosing to end his life through suicide. Leaving me to deal with the consequences of his choice. There is that small part of me that sometimes in a great notion, believes the insipid lie - that somehow it was my fault.

I am positive that everyone and I mean EVERYONE is absolutely tired of hearing about the grieving of my husband's suicidal death. I should be over this right?! Shouldn't I!???? This is after all the 11th anniversary of Rob's suicidal death. I am STILL a widow. I don't want to feel the pain of a life unrequited, or the pain from the hole in my heart that sometimes FEELS like a deep chasm. The grand Canyons. The resulting consequences of wind, water and time. The Grand Canyon walls hune from rock. I am sure the beginning process of the creation of one of the seven wonders of the world, didn't start out amazing. But NOW?!!! One of God's masterpieces.

Speaking of masterpieces (great segway), I've been writing some books. One of them is "Survivor of Suicide"; the main content for THE book that I have been "consumed" with writing… Writing has at times been healing, been a friend and yet my nemesis. Through the years there have been times when I've written so much that I can't write anymore. And then there are other times I have total writers block. I freeze, put writing on hold. This book MUST be a literary masterpiece! This is why it is not finished. Or so I tell myself. 

Recently, I was having this conversation with God about THE book. He posed this question - Why isn't THE book finished? Of course my response was - THIS book needs to be a masterpiece! GOD'S response to this meek excuse - It does not need to be a masterpiece. I AM the MASTERPIECE! Your book is A piece, meant to help the thousands, even millions of people attempting to survive the suicidal death of a loved one. It's a piece, not THE masterpiece! 

Deep! Humbeling. God loves me so much that HE rebukes me with a velvet hammer instead of a machete....

I can authentically say that I have gone beyond being a survivor of suicide. I am fortunate and blessed that I get to bring the Kingdom of God everywhere He sends me and exhibit His Extravagant Unconditional LOVE. 

Yes GOD, you are indeed THE Masterpiece!

Wedding Anniversary 12/31/22

 

Awoken this morning 

cloaked in subconscious 

resoluteness that today 

would be a day

like any other... 

Thoughts and memories 

raced in the echoing halls

of this stunted imagination

filled with past hopes and dreams 

of what could've been

Somehow this woman 

once broken by the suicide 

of a beloved man

into a million shards

emerges from mud and ash

upheld by tears bathed 

in unconditional love 

beyond human hope

She breaths

she dances

and dares to dream 

once again... 

Ⓒ Kimberly A. Wallace, January 1, 2023

After the Storms

After the Storm

There were times I didn’t know how, or if, I would endure the ongoing consequences of my husband’s suicide. Or how I would survive the loss of homes I thought I owned. Or how I would rise, once more, and continue. Just continue. Some times, my next day or even moment felt unattainable, like air when you’re caught in the under tow of a wave. 

These onslaughts of what seemed like timeless duration felt like storms to withstand. My power, I thought, could be found in the way I braved the pounding truth of these storms. 

An otherworldly spiritual calm finds me when thunder melts into rain. I no longer wonder if the storm will come. I KNOW the storm will come. Within the squall, my edges are nonlinear and yet precisely: me and not me, discovering the courage to breath in the midst of seemingly drowning.

As the winds tear at my layers, I sense the part of me that persists—a part untouchable by the storm. My great victory is in choosing to love and keep loving. Choosing to live this moment and continuing to choose to live in each future moment. To cling to hope and faith and make the space for them to flourish. To get closer to the strength of what cannot be destroyed by storms. I glean and prepare for the next storm by surviving this one. 

I am what remains after the skies clear and God kisses me.

© Kimberly Anne Wallace October 13, 2022

Today

Today, standing 

under the mvuli tree 

where once I'd spread 

my husband's ashes

In this, his favorite place

My now older hand 

tentatively touched 

the creviced bark

as if somehow 

I were wistfully 

touching his face

 

I looked out 

over the expanse 

of lake Victoria

and ruminated 

at how I believed 

a time ago

This lake could never hold 

my watershed of tears

The breeze rustled the leaves 

of this peaceful tree 

Gently whispering 

caresses around me

As though my beloved 

was once again here

Memories of adventures 

and dreams we shared

Reminded me of what 

death and time had stolen

Resolutely I stand 

in the face of my tomorrow's

Choosing to live 

my life as if each day 

might contain moments 

of my everlasting breath

© Kimberly Anne Wallace March 21, 2022

9th Anniversary of Rob's death

Remembering Rob Wallace….

Today, March 12, 2021 marks the 9th anniversary of my late husband’s suicidal death.  The grief is no longer a bottomless pit of pain. Although, there remains a dull ache that echoes in the holes of my heart, once filled by the love of my husband.  The loss remains. 

Did you know that Rob’s favorite place in the whole world, was Uganda? He loved Uganda!  The people, the country, the rain. He loved to play his soprano sax in churches that I ministered in as he ushered in the presence of god. He especially loved the melodic haunting dirges his saxophone made when he played in the rain. Rob would intentionally choose to join me on the “country club” portions (electricity and hot water on demand, porcelain flushing toilets, hotels, expat homes and good food) of my ministry trips to Africa. He didn’t like roughing it… He always left going “up country” or “in the bush” part of my trips for me, alone. 

One of Rob’s greatest desires was to purchase some property and build a home, so that we could retire here in Uganda. He didn’t get to see that desire fulfilled. Somehow, he believed the lie that the anxiety, depression and the emotional pain he experienced, would never go away… He answered yes to the dark seduction of suicide, which stole his hopes and dreams. This pains my heart.

I was remembering, in my mind’s eye, what Rob looked like. His soft eyes, his slightly twisted smile and the little wrinkles around his ears from maintaining his embouchure playing the saxophone. I then tried to hear his voice… the way he called my name when he felt endearing towards me or the way he laughed at his own jokes… Tears welled up in my eyes at the realization, I couldn’t recall what his voice sounded like. I felt a sadness and almost a sense of guilt because I couldn’t hear Rob’s voice in my memories. How could this be?

I am reminded that grief is the loss and mourning is the remembering.  If mourning is the remembering… will I forever mourn?

“Winter” in Uganda

Winds laced with Sahara sand

cloaking the morning sunrise

stealing glorious colors 

normally stretched across the horizon

Instead, a breath like fog

leaves behind 

delusions of rain

shrouding Lake Victoria’s 

picturesque view

with this sense 

of ominous change

© Kimberly Anne Wallace 2021

Morning has Broken

Waking to sounds 

of distant rolling thunder

Smelling pummeling rain 

Cleansing fog like winds 

of sahara dust 

from hills and valleys

leaving sighs 

of green freshness

and pungent red earth…

Oh how I have missed 

Ugandan mornings

© Kimberly Anne Wallace 2021