Category Archives: Widowhood

Nate’s Notes

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Anyone who’s lost someone they love through death is acquainted with the harsh finality of the separation. No new photos of that person, no fresh conversations, no advice or opinions, no notes or cards.

Earlier this week when my Hope Chest revealed a whole bagful of Nate’s handwritten notes that I hadn’t remembered saving, my heart skipped a beat, and I gave the bag a big hug. I believe God led me to those notes to help me develop a spirit of gratitude within my widowhood. In that same spirit, I share a sampling here with you.

Rising by 5:00 am every morning to make his long commute to Chicago’s Loop, Nate and I didn’t connect on workday mornings. Instead his greeting to me was a 3 x 5 card, usually propped against the coffee pot. Despite the financial crucible he was experiencing at the time, a positive tenor flowed through his messages. Reading them from my current position without him, has been inspirational.

(No need to read them all, if you can even read them at all!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s good for each of us to ask, “When my family is disposing of my things, what statements will my life be making?”

If I could choose one theme I’d like them to find, it would be gratitude, and not just gratitude in general, but gratitude to God. I have a long way to go, but Nate’s notes have inspired me in that direction. Maybe I’ll even buy myself a pack of 3 x 5 cards.

“Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good! His faithful love endures forever.” (1 Chronicles 16:34)

Visiting with Nate

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For many years I’ve had a piece of furniture some people would call a “Hope Chest.” Several generations back, every young woman put together a trousseau, beginning in her teens, stockpiling items in her Hope Chest to be used at a future date.

Under the tutelage of a mother, grandmother, and aunties, she’d hand-make dresses, table linens, towels, bed linens, and quilts, adding decorative stitching to make them unique. Her “hope” would be to one day have her own home and family where the carefully collected chest-full of items would become her contribution to the start of her marriage. This tradition continued well into the 1950’s.

I loved the idea of a Hope Chest, though I didn’t have one. But years after I was married, despite having closets loaded with everything I needed, I asked Nate if I could have a Hope Chest for my 40th birthday. We chose it together, and I filled it with sentimental items I wanted to keep: baby shoes, my Girl Scout sash, the mold of a child’s hand, my first piece of little-girl jewelry, a child’s art project, an engraved drinking cup, and about 50 other things.

This week I decided to dig for something from Birgitta’s childhood that she might appreciate as she approaches motherhood. Gradually I emptied the Hope Chest, enjoying the written explanations and memories accompanying each item. And when I got to the bottom, I found a lovely surprise: Nate.

Even though he’s been gone for nearly 3 years, tucked into the cedar-lined corner was something I don’t remember putting there: a ZipLoc bag full of his handwriting.

Well over 200 notes and letters filled the bag, each one dated, most about 10 years old. Apparently I’d tucked them away before we moved to Michigan in 2009, before Nate’s back trouble, before cancer, before death. Picking up that bag stuffed with his thoughts brought a little squeal of happiness out of me, and I tucked the whole thing under my pillow for later, anticipating a mini-visit with Nate each night for quite awhile. Looking at several pieces just before turning out the light would be a sweet something to anticipate through each day.

I had no doubt my “find” was God’s doing. He’s a Person of deeply felt compassion for each of us. Although he’s far too grand to know him completely, he orchestrates wonderful “flukes” now and then, to let us know he’s very near. The cache of Nate’s notes was a reminder of that, and I shook my head in wonder at what a caring God he is.

When I finally began reading the notes (well over 200 of them), they reflected bits of carefree humor I’d nearly forgotten were part of those financially stressful days 10 years ago. But inside that baggie, God was communicating something else to me: “Please don’t forget.” And his reason?

“…so you can be thankful.”

(Tomorrow: Nate’s notes)

“I recall all you have done, O Lord; I remember your wonderful deeds of long ago.” (Psalm 77:11)

Dear Nate,

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Yesterday was your birthday, or at least it would have been, had you lived. You died a few weeks after we turned 64 (ten days apart), and this year I turned 67 without you.

Remember how we always celebrated together? The kids would plan a “double-whammy” party, complete with a treasure hunt for our gifts. Their enthusiasm rubbed off on us, and before we knew it we were playing all their silly games with gusto.

The birthday cakes they concocted tasted pretty good coming from such young bakers, but of course even earthly angel food cake could never match whatever heavenly food you’re enjoying now. Maybe you don’t have to eat at all, but my bet is you’re partaking of all kinds of delectable goodies.

Since you left us, life has changed considerably for our family. Four new grandchildren have been added, with another due 8 weeks from today. I wonder what you’d think about Birgitta’s unplanned baby. Although we’re predicting a mix of happiness and struggle, you probably see it differently. Since you live free of calendar dictatorship and the bondage of the clock, maybe you’ve already met this 7th grandchild. While we wait, you may know.

I think often about you, sometimes every hour, always wondering what you’re doing. This morning I was remembering Jesus’ departure from earth to heaven, relating to the disappointment of the disciples who loved him so much. He said, “You can’t go where I’m going,” and they must have been miserable, wondering how they were going to live without him.

I know just how they felt.

When you left the earth, I couldn’t accompany you either. But Jesus encouraged his disappointed disciples by saying, “If you loved me, you would be glad that I am going to the Father.” (John 14:28) As unhappy as I was when you first left, I can now genuinely say, “Because I love you, I’m glad you’ve gone to the Father.” Besides, my turn will come, just as it did for all the disciples.

You probably know that these days I’m not blogging about you nearly as much on my web site. Sometimes I feel funny about that, but it’s happening because my heart is feeling much better. I rarely think about your cancer anymore but dwell more on our good times together. Paging through old photo albums this week has made me appreciate you more than ever, and I wish I had thanked you more often, when I had the chance.

I’m glad I can write this letter while thinking about you and your special day, August 18. Although you’ll never again go on a treasure hunt for your presents, surely that doesn’t matter now. These days every minute of every day is found-treasure for you.

“I will give you hidden treasures, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the Lord.” (Isaiah 45:3)