January 9, 2011 was a day that will be with me for the rest of my life. 

It was the day that mine and my daughter’s lives were changed, and it wasn’t a good change. It was the death of my husband. On that cold and rainy morning, Ben kissed me and my daughter, who was 7 months old at the time, goodbye for work. Of course we were both still asleep that Sunday morning because it was early, so we barely woke up when we felt his goodbye kiss. Next thing I remember, I got a knock on my door and the news that made me feel like my heart and lungs had been ripped out simultaneously.  

I couldn’t breathe, and all I could do was start calling his family and start hysterically crying into the phone. My body and mind were in shock that I actually told myself he was going to bust through the door and grab me up and say he made it through the accident after all. I immediately started the grieving process.  

This process has steps that sometimes would occur and then I would move on to the next step and be right back where I started. Basically, I would wake up each day, and it would hit me like a ton of bricks, and other days I felt like I could make it. The first step I went through was denial. I tried to tell myself that he was fooling us, and he was still alive. While the denial stage was going on, I would go through anger, the second stage. The anger would hit me like a force of lightening and was a challenge for me.  

I’m still catching myself in this stage a lot if I’m honest. The feeling of if someone had done a better job that day, or if he would have just left work earlier, he would still be here. The next stage has been a real struggle for me as well, and I still struggle with it some days and that is depression. I will catch myself crying when a memory hits me. The day our daughter was born, our wedding day, days we would be home enjoying life, a song that would come on the radio, pictures; all of these moments, if thought about, would make me cry, and they still do because I miss him so much.  

The bargaining stage is a stage I also still deal with. If someone had done this or that, or if I had just convinced him to call in or leave earlier he wouldn’t have died. I actually went through this stage alongside of the other stages. The acceptance stage has occurred, but there are days that even though I’ve accepted him being gone, I still struggle. It’s been difficult being a widowed mom. Grief comes in waves. One minute I feel fine, and the next it all comes back to me.  

When my daughter was younger I showed her a pictures of her dad and would tell her stories. When she was between the ages of 3-6, I could tell she knew something was missing from her life, even though her dad’s family and I would tell her things about her dad, she knew something and someone was missing. One day, when she was about 6/7 years old, she just asked, “Where is my dad?” I knew the day would come where she would ask about him and where he really was. So I explained as much to her, on her level as I could.  

I encouraged her to pray, to draw pictures of how she was feeling when she thought about her dad, and now that she’s 9, I remind her it’s ok to talk about him and how she feels about him being gone.  

He was taken from us too soon, so she didn’t get a chance to know him. So I can’t imagine grieving for someone you don’t really know. We have come so far, and God’s love, comfort, peace, mercy, grace, and faithfulness has really brought us through. My late husband’s family, my family, and friends of mine have helped us too. It has been really difficult and still is, but I know he will be in our hearts forever, and one day we will be reunited with him.

-Joy Spoon