Why did you do this to me, God?

Hi. My name is Linda, and I am Robert's 68 year old mom (understand that I call him "Bob", so if I use that name, you will know who I am talking about.) He asked me to post a guest blog about my experiences as a widow raising small children at the age of 30. He said there are a number of young widows out there who read his blog, and might be able to relate to it. I told him I would give it a shot.

It was 1969. Chuck, my husband, and I had been married nine years, and had two children, Bob (age 8) and his sister Kathy (age 5). Chuck had actually been diagnosed with malignant melanoma (an especially virulent form of cancer) at the time I met him as his nurse in an army hospital. This was in the form of a large mole on his chest which they removed along with all the lymph nodes surrounding it. At the time, the doctors said that if there were no recurrence in seven years, it likely would not recur. So we fell in love, married, and had a fairly typical sitcom like life. Then, six and one-half years later, he was hospitalized for an injury, they did a routine chest x-ray, and found a spot on his lung which turned out to be cancerous. Despite surgery, radiation and chemotherapy, in 1969 he underwent surgery one more time, and I was told the cancer had spread everywhere and was inoperable. Six days later, he was gone. I was in the hospital at the time, and watched him take his last breath. My knees buckled, and the nurse assisted me to a chair in the nursing station. As I sat there, all I could feel was numb. Not sadness, just numb. The main thing I thought was, how do I tell my children that their Dad would never come home, would never hold them again? The next few days went by, the children were told (with a great deal of difficulty), friends and family offered support. funeral arrangements were made, the funeral itself occurred, and I pretty much remained numb throughout. I did all the "appropriate" things, tried to support my children, smile and thank our friends, not fall apart in front of other people (everyone said it was remarkable how well I was "holding up"... little did they know I was too numb to break down and cry...I wished I could), and dealt with bills, insurance, quitting my job to spend more time with the kids, and other mundane things.

Then about a week after the funeral, I was driving to the store by myself to get groceries. It was a beautiful Indian summer day in early September. Suddenly I began to shake. I trembled violently, and could barely hold the steering wheel. I pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped. I was consumed with anger and grief. The tears came flooding out. How could God allow this gorgeous day when he had ruined my life forever? It wasn't fair. At first I sobbed, then began to scream. I screamed at God. "How could you do this to me? It's not fair! He was a good person, a wonderful husband and father, and you took him away from me!!! I hate you, I hate you, I HATE you!!!" I kept this up for a while, and then just sat there in the car, crying my eyes out, wondering just how I would be able to manage the things I knew I had to do to get through the rest of my life. After about 15 minutes, I was able to drive, felt some kind of inner resolution to go on, told myself to stop being so dramatic, and began to make plans for the future. I actually felt a little better, although I would not admit it at the time.

I wish I could tell you I got an immediate response from God, felt his presence and his love surrounding me and uplifting me, giving me courage and support, maybe even speaking to me, saying something like "I have my reasons, my child, and your Chuck and I will always be here for you." Poetic and spiritual, isn't it? But it didn't happen. (In hindsight, I think some of that DID happen, but I was not aware of it.) In my opinion, I would have to deal with this on my own, and I did. Life went on, but I did not forgive God for a long time. This was my immediate response, and I will leave it at this. I plan to write more later about my reconnection with God and how I slowly realized he never left me as I took the difficult journey of raising two young children as a single parent. I'm really not trying to be overly dramatic about all this, but this was really my story and how I felt at the time. Blessings to all of you, and thank you for listening to me ramble on.