I've been feeling unsettled the last week or so; just a churning inside; with memories and reminders of Mart springing up all over the place. Typically in my new life, at this point, memories generally evoke good thoughts and a smile; but lately, I have been feeling a sadness within. I described the feeling to a friend, "it is like a train that has left the station and is careening down the tracks out of control."
The train of grief; the train of the sadiversary, Martin's "death day" that is lingering around the bend. February 15. The day my life changed forever.
Daily there is always conversation about Martin. With the kids, with friends, with family, so I can't say that that has changed. Many thoughts of him cross my mind everyday. But this is almost like a feeling of angst inside. Angst is an odd word and maybe the perfect word to describe what I feel.
These are the weeks I can remember, where we went, what we did and what was said. Not in the clearest detail but I know the general goings on. This time in 2011, I was at a conference in Grand Rapids with Carol Kent. It wasn't really a conference. It was a "book taping" and Carol had been looking for women to be actresses as the audience as she taught her bible study for her new book, that happened to be named, "Between a Rock and a Grace Place." Little did I know how this would be my deepest reality in a few short weeks. I had a great time there. It was a time away. Mart had made me reservations in a real nice hotel and I had to figure out my way to the taping studio each day. I met some nice women and enjoyed the "dressing room time" as we changed our outfits to look like it wasn't all taped on a single day. I remember checking into the hotel and them asking me about Holiday Inn points for Martin Kurily. Yep, that's me. Mrs. Martin Kurily.
This week, talking about this train rolling down the tracks prompted me to look up an article I remembered by an author that has been helpful on my grief road. Her name is Christina Rasmussen. The title of the article is “Don’t get on the Anniversary Train.” https://www.secondfirsts.com/2014/05/dont-get-on-the-anniversary-train/
In her writing, she talks about not getting on the anniversary train as that is not where life is. She accurately describes how loud the train “Heavy. Noisy. Old. Loud.” She also says that nothing about riding the “death day train” is honoring to the person who has died. So true. Every year we approach the Mart’s death day and Mart’s birthday individually. The first year of the death day, we had a party to honor him. All the kids were in town. We had Alibi antipasto salad and Louies Pizza (both favorites of Mart’s) on speed dial to keep the pizzas coming. And a refrigerator of beer. Not that he drank that much beer, but he did enjoy it from time to time. So many of his friends and family gathered that day. It was one of those days that I hoped God has opened up heaven for a minute so he could see all the people and hear all the stories, and know that the kids and I were doing better than surviving. We may not have been thriving, but better than surviving.
In later years, it seems we all do what we needed to do. The first couple years, I would spend with whoever was in town, so that I was not alone. But then the sting lessened and the wound wasn’t so fresh. I was at an ice fishing tournament on February 15th in 2015. In 2016, I had to take the dogs to the veterinarian. In 2017, I worked and went to my writing group in the evening. Those things are Life Giving. Those things honor Mart by participating in the lives that we have left. That’s what he would want! Choose Life, Mary! This is how I let the death day train go right by me. I’m not even standing on the platform anymore waiting to board the train. Even if I can feel it careening down the tracks these days and weeks before. That’s part of how it goes for me. Honoring Mart’s memory by remembering who he was and what we had and by choosing to live; to reach out and grab life with all that we have. Yes, that is what we are doing. It is certainly not perfect, but we are learning to walk all over again without the one who taught us so well. So very thankful.
