Almost ten years have passed since my first husband died, and I’ve long left the valley of the shadow of death. I was almost crushed, but now I walk again bearing jagged and radiant scars. I’ve processed and processed and processed, and I know the beauty of a life restored. 

A second husband, three spunky children— life is rich and full again, and grief often seems like a distant memory. But even now some unexpected, long term side effects of loss remain: fear, worry, embarrassment, and shame to name few. 

Recently I needed surgery to have a painful, but (thankfully) benign ovarian cyst removed. Concurrently, my husband has an unexplained mass on his arm, and we’re waiting for MRI results and surgery. Medical concerns still raise a prickle of fear followed by its close cousin, worry. If you checked my phone search history, you’d find a list of symptoms. My fingers sought answers and my heart played “worst case scenario.” I was on the look out for that six letter word that should be a four letter word, cancer. 

Given my first husband died in an Emergency Department after symptoms were missed and mistakes made, it makes sense that I’m more cautious medically. That fear can still so easily overtake me is unexpected, however. It’s been almost a decade, haven’t I walked forward into a new, beautiful life? 

As I cried alone in my car, worry and fear spilling out, I was also surprised to realize I’m still responding to the trauma of death. Memories of emotional pain so intense it was physical still crouch in the corners of my heart…

The complete article was graciously published first by Revive our Hearts, and you can find it here.