What Would He Say ......

...... if he were to come back for a moment or two ...... after five years?
What would he think of how I've handled his death ...... and my "after"?

It's interesting that just typing those two sentences brings tears to my eyes.  Tears that run down my cheeks as I type.
I think part of that is because I know that he will never come back, not even for a moment or two, and it breaks my heart to even ponder that.
And I think the tears also come because I know that his heart would be broken ...... at how broken my heart became.  And how dark my world became.

But what would he say?
I think the first thing he would say is, "I'm sorry."  Not that he could've stopped death from taking him out of that surgical room.  I know that.  Jim would not have chosen death over us.  Ever.  But the choice was not his.  And he'd still say he was sorry.

He'd say that he knew how much I hurt when he left, and how alone and cold and dead I felt.  And then he'd say that he never doubted for a second that I would keep breathing, that I would survive his death ...... and the grief that would move into my soul.

He'd tell me that he always knew how strong I was ...... and that even when I doubted if I'd live to see another day, he knew better.
He'd say that he's proud of me ...... and that I should be proud of me, too, even though he knows I'm not.
He'd tell me that of course I grieved hard ...... because I loved hard.  He didn't expect less.  He'd also say that he knew that I did the best I could ...... and that my best was pretty damn good.

He'd say that he's proud of our children.  They may have made choices that we wouldn't have chosen for them, but we raised them to do just that:  make their own choices.  And then to live with the consequences, and the joys.
He'd tell me that he knew that our oldest got accepted to Harvard ...... and that it made him grin from ear to ear.  He say that he's been watching all six of them ...... and that he knew they'd be ok. He's proud of the young women and men they've turned into.  And he's beaming because we'll finally have another Cowboy in the family!  
He would wish that he could be here for marriages and grandkids ...... to enjoy them with me, but that he'd still be watching them  ...... and enjoying them, too.

He'd tell me to stop blaming myself for mistakes I've made and wish I hadn't.  "Everyone makes mistakes, Janine.  The point is to learn from them.  And you did."

He'd tell me how very, very proud he is about the work I'm doing to support and encourage other widowed people.  He might even wipe away a tear or two as he tells me he's glad that I allowed God to work through me, as I used his death, and my grief, to be a positive force in the lives of others.  And ...... he'd say that I always had made a difference in the world ...... at least to his and the childrens' world.

And when it was time for him to leave, he'd hold me ...... and tell me that he's never stopped loving me ...... and that he never will.  And that means that he wants me to be happy ...... and to grab onto love if it ever comes my way again.

I can almost hear his words now ...... the last words he said to me 5 years ago ...... the last words he'd say again if he had the chance:  "I love you.  I'm proud of you.  And I'll see you soon."
And I'd have no doubt, that just as they were then,  they're still true.