Daffodil Love Letter

That “last” day.

Those “last” moments.

I never expected him to call me to come home quickly that He was in great pain, yet turned to look me in the eye, squeeze my hand, and with his eyes holding mine and a small smile said, “Everything will be OK.”   It would not be OK.

He is my soul mate. The great and only true love of my life. 45 years we have walked together. My heart still squeezes when I see him across a room. Oh, the adventures we shared! Oh, the love of the King that covered us when our own was not enough!  I wanted everything to be OK. I wanted to grow old with this man. We were closing one chapter and preparing our hearts for a new journey. In every step of that dream, we were together. Now this. Please be OK. But that day was anything but OK, and the ripping apart of my heart is untellable.

Now I journey in the valley of the shadow. It is a tortuous journey strewn with ragged pieces of my heart. I am held in the arms of my Father and my family, but Randy’s no longer draw me near.

It is a great awakening to the truth—this shadow—this thing we have named death. I set my face like a flint to see the face of my King in the forbidding thunderheads. He comforts and teaches. He heals and brings light in the darkness. And He allows me to “see” Randy and to hear him in the most unexpected places. How He prepared our hearts for this path is a story for the writing one day. But today is one of those days the shadow lays thick and heavy, and I find myself weeping into my coffee. Missing him so deeply—wishing I had said and done things I didn’t realize I needed to say and do.

People told me that Christmas would be hard. It was so very bittersweet with my family this year but not a time of great sorrow. Christmas at our house has always been about the kids. So focusing on them was a natural joy that filled the house with laughter. But right after the tree is taken down and the stockings stored, my heart leaps towards February.

February has always been our month. Valentines was always a day we celebrated the gift of each other. Right on its heels comes my birthday. Randy never failed to make both a joy. Even though our first years were lean ones, there were always flowers for me. My Valentine’s bouquet more than once was a stem of mums or a pot of daffodils but there were always flowers! He knew he always hit a home run with daffodils because they were my favorite of all. Last year I came in on Valentines to 2 dozen of the most beautiful roses I’ve ever seen on my kitchen counter. My heart just soared. That Randy is a romantic!

This late January day as I faced that day without him here, tears cut a rugged path down my face—my heart went to mourning for what I knew could not be this year. The flowers and love letter from my beloved last year would be my last. I looked out of the kitchen window to the container garden he had made for me last spring. His last love gift to me—Randy, always making my dreams come true. As I looked out with a heavy heart something grabbed my eye. A small dot of yellow bobbed up and down in the breeze. I looked at it and squeezed my eyes to focus. Could it be? Could it be?

I grabbed my sweater and headed out the door. My heartbeat faster and faster with each step. The yellow began to come into focus—then my eyes blurred with tears. As I entered the garden and came to its edge my sobs came strong and loud. Guttural moans rose from y broken heart. I wept painful huge tears and held myself tight. “Baby, baby, baby,” I said over and over. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Planted in secret, along the edge of the garden mound, was a perfectly straight row of daffodils swelling with buds. Secretly (Randy delighted in surprising those he loves) my darling had planted a carefully placed row of my favorite flowers. He knew they would delight my heart with their beautiful salute to spring.  And oh, they do! He had no idea as he planted those bulbs, he would not be here to see my surprised delight.  He had no idea what a love letter to my heart—what comfort and joy—they would bring me. He had given me my valentines flowers—and those flowers would come each February for the rest of my days. A love letter from my Randy.

I marvel at the mercy of God in putting the planting of the surprise flowers in Randy’s heart. I marvel at the sweet goodness of my husband and his sensitivity to God. I know that I walk toward a day of great joy with both of them. The Valentines of all Valentine’s days. Until that day I choose to live as Randy whispered to my heart that day. Full and alive. I choose to know the unfailing love of God and to let Him hold me when I cannot stand alone. I choose to see what cannot be seen with eyes and to know the heart of a God who gave His all for me and bids my heart to trust Him in all things.

“Yes, my darling, It IS going to be ok.” The daffodils bloom brighter every day and will return even stronger next spring. So will my heart.