Step Into Each Season

For the last few years, there have been only a handful of times, where I have found myself in these bizarre moments since my first husband died that feels like a shift in the universe. I don’t know if there is a crossing of energies, or a moment of intersection between our souls, but it demands my full attention when it occurs. It’s as if I️ could reach out into the air in front of me in that short moment and he’d reach back.

Oddly, I’m thinking of a family member as I️ write this that I’ve lost all touch with. In the past, she would have told me I was simply creating this in my mind, because I wanted to feel him, not because I actually was feeling him. She’d tell me I️ wasn’t dealing with the reality of death, and she feels sorry for me. Her words tend to revisit me when these moments occur for me. I️ often think to myself, “maybe you’re right, his death has made me slightly crazy. My thoughts are morbid and hopeful and completely out of control, and beautiful all at the same time? I am intrigued by death, I️ want to know everything about it.” I’d also think to myself, “Woman, if only you would feel what I do in these brief moments, you’d feel the burden of this loss lift for just a little bit, and those hard feelings that have ripped at your heart for all these years would unclench their claws for just a moment, and maybe, just maybe you could breathe again and see him in the faces of those around you, maybe. You could sit with him for a bit, maybe.”

This past week I was in New Orleans for a conference for work. When I wasn’t in class, I found myself alone a few times in the big city with the opportunity to venture out. Since losing my first husband, I have found that alone time is quite enjoyable. I️ have come to like myself, even enjoy my own company over the past few years, so a quiet meal alone with a book and the chance to people watch is awesome. New Orleans is a wonderful place to do this. The last time I was in New Orleans was back in 2011 with John. We had gone for a 4 day vacation to enjoy the food, music and culture. John was a huge jazz fanatic so this was a very important destination for us. We probably walked 30 miles that weekend, exploring every historic landmark, enjoying so many oysters, and venturing into the cool music venues on Frenchmen Street (where the locals go) to listen to music late into the night.

This week, on my way to see my cousin play (she’s a badass jazz musician living in New Orleans with her badass husband who is also a musician), I found myself in one of these rare bizarre moments. I suddenly stopped mid-walk and looked to my left and there sat the Old Coffee Pot Restaurant. This quaint little restaurant that I immediately recognized was the first place I️ had a delicious gumbo dinner with John years ago on our first night exploring this crazy wild city. I️ stared right at the small table by the window I once sat with him, young and ready for a night of music. I️ could almost see us sitting there. Across from this was a 3-generation family that started playing “When the Saints Come Marching In”. There were people everywhere passing all around me, cars and horses, it was mayhem. I just stood there and closed my eyes.

Through all the chaos, I swear if I could see everything we can’t see, I’d see John standing right in front of me, merely separated by a small hazy wall of some other universe, acknowledging with me that yes he remembers, the food was delicious and the music was lovely. I stood there in the street smiling and crying and laughing and then suddenly dancing. I felt grateful for the memory and the brief pause that allowed me to stand at attention with him. These moments do not happen often, but when they do they are lovely.

The word “season” came to mind as I stood in the street. I am in such a beautiful season of my life right now. I got married to my best friend Tristan just a few weeks ago. I️ have to say, it’s the most fun I’ve ever had at a wedding. To have all of your favorite people in one place, dancing and laughing, gave me a burst of energy that left a permanent smile on my face all weekend. I️ love Tristan so much I️ feel that my heart could explode. I’m convinced I have the world’s best husband. I feel connected to him whether we’re in the same room or thousands of miles away. He is my person and I am his, in this world and the next. I believe the energy between us is unique yet so similar to the connection I️ have to John, and for all of that I feel extremely grateful.

 If you had told me 3 1/2 years ago that I’d find that kind of love again, I would have told you it was impossible. It took a while for me to believe it, to visualize it, and to eventually speak to it. It happened for me though, this season arrived and took over, there was no stopping it, it drew me in and captured my heart.

When my sister told me that she was pregnant, I️ felt once again as if my heart may explode. My family has been so excited for the arrival of this new little human for the past 9 months. I watched the birth of my niece just a week ago. I was so proud of my sister in that moment. She worked so hard to bring Eloise into this world safely, and is already proving to be world’s best mom. I thought of John as I watched Eloise take her first breath, and let out her first cry. I️ wondered if he met her before she came to Lizzie and Luke. I️ wondered if he helped her get here, helped her decide on her purpose. I wondered if he helped Tristan and I️ find each other and come into this new season of joy.

 Do those that go before us help us walk through each season? Do they function as these spiritual guardians to those of us still here, helping us move through each season? The cry of my beautiful niece felt like angels singing above, it was the most precious sound. A new season for my sister and brother, a new season for this small human. I thought about how death and birth all almost feel the same to me now, just a continuous cycle of purpose and experience, joy and pain, all leading us to the source that I think put us here.

We’re all just in between seasons. My hard seasons are not over, there will be pain again, loss again, unexpected abrupt endings to things that go too soon, disappointments. To think I’ve served my time is dangerous and not real. What I do know is I will be better prepared for the next season that challenges my heart. I’ll walk through it with more grace, more patience, and a genuine belief that it all just intertwines, and brings us closer to the energy of God.  I don’t think we’re meant to stay in those hard seasons forever.  We should not wear them like a black shawl.  I think it’s ok to step into something new, while always respecting those past seasons and what they’ve taught us.

I find John on the rivers, the streets of New Orleans with beautiful jazz music, in the cry of a new born baby, in the kind eyes of my sweet husband Tristan, in the expressions of his older brother and the sound of his laugh, to the morning tunes of Steeley Dan, in the smell of a burning fire. I find him everywhere. He reminds me of these seasons I’ve walked through, the joyous one I am currently in, and the vision of seasons to come both joyful and painful. It’s all intertwined, and I’m grateful to be present in it, to stand at attention, to hear and see God through the absolute chaos. I believe when we can step into these brief moments and allow ourselves to stand still, we can shed off the weight of the world we live in, even if it’s brief, and connect to those that left before us, those that are on their way here.  These moments helps prepare us for our next season and to step into it.

The Best Marriage

I became ordained to marry people in 2016 after being asked by two very close friends to officiate their wedding.  This involved clicking a few buttons on the internet to my surprise.  No test had to be passed, no blood samples, no religious interview, just a click and done.  I filed my "license" with the Secretary of State in West Virginia and suddenly I now had the responsibility of marrying people.

The first wedding I did was for two dear friends that John and I had introduced back in 2012 during the crazy derecho in Fayetteville.  We spent the weekend rafting the New, drinking very warm PBR and eating brats over a charcoal grill.  It was a natural disaster that somehow brought these two wonderful individuals together, and years later here I was standing with them overlooking the beautiful West Virginia mountains talking to them about how I feel about marriage among their family and friends.  I wore John's wedding ring around my neck that day as a reminder to myself and my dear friends that he was there.

After losing my first husband, I remember feeling that I never wanted to attend another wedding again.  The thought of sitting through the joy of two individuals alive, breathing and well, getting to come together in marriage simply pained me.  I had become morbid and doubtful over the thought of a "long life" together because I felt stripped of this experience.  Why should others get this opportunity when mine was gone.  My ego at the time was in the driver seat and I wanted the world there with me.  These feelings controlled me for a while. 

When Nick and Meghan asked me to marry them, I spent a quiet evening alone on my front porch thinking for hours about what I would say to two individuals that are making this decision to come together.  It had been over a year since losing John.  I thought a lot about how I felt when I married him, the things that never crossed my mind on my wedding day.  We went through the generic vows, never really put any thought into what they meant, and it was over in a matter of minutes, and the party began.  As I found myself now responsible for the ceremony of two people that John and I had both adored,  I went back in time.  I went back to his death.  I remembered the pure explosion I felt on March 9th, the outer body experience that seemed to follow within moments and the panic I had over the conversations, the laughter, even the generic vows I would never get to say to him again.

I don't think I truly understood what marriage meant to me until I lost my marriage.  It took a few years of solitude, of sitting with myself,  to come to grips with what it really meant when I married John.  My biggest regret is knowing that I never got to share this new understanding and appreciation for this union with him.  Yet, through this awakening; through the days, months, and years of silence; through facing that regret and anger and reflection, I met a man that would become my second husband, and my heart grew and grew and exploded with a joy that I thought was dead.

 I recently completed my second wedding for two of my best friends here in Fayetteville, Scott and Sherry. I had the privilege of knowing both of them as individuals and as a couple for the last three years, and it truly brought me joy to write a ceremony for them.  I took many of the things I had said to Nick and Meghan in 2016, along with the continued experience of loss and new love to write something that I felt would impact them in a way where they would not forget.  I wanted them to feel that they could always go back in time, and revisit this moment between the two of them throughout life together.

So, after the experience of two great loves, two incredible joys, and a heart that learned to grow and expand and accept the pain as a part of my individual self,  here is what I had to say to my dear friends about their decision to come together on their wedding day: 

" I believe that the best marriages occur when two people recognize that love for one’s self, and love for our individual purpose in this world, is what leads to deep incredible love for our partner.  Our time here is temporary, so the choice to stay present with one another, and respecting each other’s individual purpose in this world brings out the kind of partnership that stands strong forever.  You both are going to change as the years go by, in fact you can plan on it, so choose to change together.  As you make this commitment to each other today, choose each other not only because of who you currently are, but also because of who you are both determined to become, and spend a life time joining each other in your becoming. By doing this, you will bring out the best version of yourselves for one another,  and therefore your purpose in this world is served.

I want you both to know that choosing self-love first is not selfish or unkind.  Love for who you are as individuals in this marriage will allow you to give endless love to each other.  The strength in one’s self brings out a true partnership, not co-dependence. Self-love is knowing that you can stand on your own feet no matter what life brings you.  As you choose each other today, be confident and stand strong in the belief that your love for each other goes well beyond your flesh, it outweighs our physical presence in this world.   Mother Theresa once said, 'Death is nothing else but going home to God, the bond of love will be unbroken for all eternity.'  This love is eternal and will be with you always.  This love becomes a part of your individual self today, it is now infused into your soul.  So love yourself always, so you can give the greatest love to each other.

Not only is marriage about knowing yourself, and loving yourself.  It is also an act of working together to keep your flame alive and burning in the many years to come.  There are three flames I want you both to reflect on every day as individuals and as partners in your marriage.  These three flames form the trinity of love and create a balanced life together.

The first flame is called 'Raya.'  Raya represents the incredible friendship you two have with one another.   C.S. Lewis once said, 'It is when two such persons discover one another, when, whether with immense difficulties and semi-articulate fumblings or with what would seem to us amazing and elliptical speed, they share their vision - it is then that Friendship is born.  And instantly they stand together in an immense solitude.'   The base of a marriage starts with a deep friendship that only grows over time.  Always remember the friendship that brought you two together.  Have a great time together, belly laugh until you ache.  We all hope you two spend a life time of laughter together.

The second flame is called 'Ahava.'  Ahava  represents deep affection and commitment.  This is a desire for one another that feels like a deep explosion in your chest.  It feels like a magnetic pull within your heart,  you simply can’t resist it.  It is a love that is much more profound than fleeting romantic feelings.  Ahava gives you the ability to really see each other’s hearts, to connect to one another without words or gestures, the ability to feel both joy and pain within each other and to respond to that.   It is a desire that is so strong that it leads people to join their lives together.  You both are here in this moment right now because of Ahava.  Ahava is what makes love last through the toughest times.  Marriage will not take away your loneliness.  To be a human being in this world is to be lonely.  So share your humanity together, and lean hard into the flame of Ahava,  and create moments throughout your life together where that loneliness dissipates.   Ahava represents love as a choice.  Every day, your marriage is a choice.

The third flame is called 'Dod.'  Dod represents the passion between you two.  Complete intimacy and magnetic attraction between two people.  This attraction can almost feel electric, as if you are functioning at a higher vibration, it is spiritual.  You fit perfectly with this person.  It is so hard in today's world to maintain interest in one thing, or one person anymore.  We live in a world of instant gratification.  Focusing on something, and returning our attention to it over and over when we become distracted is truly an art.  My hope for you both is that you will make your life a meditation upon each other, for that is a profound act, and absolutely essential in keeping the Dod flame alive.

I want to encourage both of you to always review these three flames, check-in with each other every day to see if these flames are balanced, work together to keep them burning throughout your shared life.  Always remember, if one flame burns out, you can always relight it."

I am so happy for my friends that have found each other in this crazy world.  It is fun to watch both couples spend life together and see them bring out the best version of themselves for each other.

I am so incredibly overwhelmed and grateful to God to experience marriage again with Tristan.  It is going to be an honor and a privilege to stand among our family and friends this weekend and give this promise to each other, to God, to ourselves.  I will forever be so thankful and go back in time to the joy I experienced in my marriage to John.  It feels as real today as it did years ago and I will lean into those memories for the rest of my life. 

Double restoration.  Expanded joy.  Pain that is a guiding torch for life.  Love that does not hold back, instead it explodes.  This is what it means to be human.  This is the best marriage. 

Where I Was Meant To Be

 

My first visit to Fayetteville coincided with the initial Gauley River release weekend in September of 2008 with a boy named John.  I was new to kayaking and had never experienced any rivers outside of the James in Virginia.  I had a roll, I could catch eddies, and I loved being on the river.  We camped at the Summersville Dam that night and I woke up to a community of kayakers throwing on gear, scarfing down oatmeal, shoving beer in their boats, and grinning from ear to ear.  My first lower Gauley run had me completely hooked-hooked on white water and hooked on the handsome boy that showed me down the river.

 



 

                                       John and Erin, First West Virginia Kayak Weekend, 2008

 

For the next 5 years, I followed John down the New, the Meadow, the Cranberry, The Elk, the Williams, the Cheat, the Cherry, and finally, the mighty Upper Gauley.  I remember gearing up for our first marathon kayaking run together which included the Upper, Middle and Lower Gauley all in one day-24 miles of whitewater heaven.  We put on the river with the sunrise and fog that next morning, fog so dense you could hear the sounds of the Insignificant rapid around the bend, but you could only see it once you were immersed in it.  At the entrance of Pillow Rock, just before we dropped into the rapid, John looked at me and yelled, "Stay close and brace!"  I found myself right behind him on what people call the Green Highway.  I imagined it was like being in the eye of a storm.  Everything around me was exploding, yet my line was completely smooth as I followed the back of his striped helmet.  Finishing the last rapid Pure Screaming Hell was one of the most satisfying exhaustions I've ever felt.  Dinner tasted glorious that night.  That handsome boy became my husband, and eventually led us out to Southern Oregon for a new adventure.

 

 

These memories played back like a movie as I stood at Long Point in early summer of 2014.  My heart was broken.  Breathing felt exhausting.  It had been three months since John lost his life in a kayaking accident in Northern California.  I did not know that the body could feel such physical pain from the absence of someone else.  I had lost weight, too much weight.  I had dark circles under my eyes from no sleep.  I became merely flesh and blood existing in the shell of what once was a happy woman.  My person was gone, and I found myself drawn back to the New River Gorge to sit and think about what in the world I was going to do with this new and unwanted normal. 

 

 

I decided to leave Oregon and move to Fayetteville 3 months after John's death.  I simply wanted a place that was quiet, where things slowed down, and where I could disappear into the mountains.  I figured I would stay for a year until I could get my life together again.  After all, my assumptions told me Fayetteville was a place where jobs were scarce, the town died in the winter, and there weren't many locals.  This would be temporary.

 

 

My first day in town, I was unpacking my kitchen when I turned around and Maura Kistler, a Fayetteville local and owner of Waterstone Outdoors, was sitting at my table with a big smile.  She introduced herself, gave me a hug, and welcomed me to town.  In that same week, I was introduced to the Arrowhead mountain biking trails, asked to go kayaking down the Lower New, shown the popular climbing and swimming spots at Whippoorwill at Summersville Lake, and introduced to the incredible hike at the Endless Wall Trail leading to Diamond Point, all by different locals that lived in town and heard I was moving there.

 

 

I started mountain biking a few times a week and went from 8-mile rides to 13 to 20.  I slowly let some new kayaking friends help me get back in my boat and out on the rivers John and I used to love so much.  My dog Jake and I discovered a different trail every weekend, whether it was seeing the rolling mountains from Babcock State Park or standing over the water falls at Glade Creek.  I started trail running.  I got rock shoes and a harness and learned to climb.  I cross country skied, and even dabbled in standup paddle boarding at Summersville Lake.  I started sleeping again, eating again, breathing again.  I slowly came back to life.

 

 

The gorge became my haven, my place of solitude, my place of deep grief.  If I could just run through my pain, ride through my homesickness for John, even cry as my boat would crash into each rapid, I felt just a little bit better.  Whether it was on my mountain bike or in my kayak, the gorge seemed to take my pain away, even if it was for just a little while to let me breathe again.  I learned to love myself and the woman I became after my husband's death. 

 

 

It's been over three years since I took a leap of faith by moving to Fayetteville.  I have made the most incredible friends in this small mountain town who share my admiration for the trails and rivers here.  I built a house in the woods where I can ride my bike out of my backyard.  I found a career that makes me happy and challenges my brain.  I met a man who completely caught me by surprise and showed me what selfless love looks like.  Life with him is a new and exciting adventure full of love which is something I never thought I'd find again.  All of my assumptions about what Fayetteville really was when I chose to move here were wrong.  I am hooked for life. 

 

Erin and Tristan, Gauley River, 2017



 

I miss my husband John every day, and the pain from losing him is something I've continued learning to live with for the rest of my life.  But I am so grateful to him for bringing me to this beautiful place all those years ago.  He was leading me to where I was always supposed to end up, right here in the New River Gorge.  

 

 

 

Smell The Formaldehyde

I get the aura of formaldehyde every now and then.  Last night I was having dinner with my family, and while listening to my sister tell a story, I suddenly smelled formaldehyde.   When this happens, what comes next is always the vision of John’s body, lifeless and cold. I am not engaged in the conversation anymore, and instead having my own internal experience. Present body, absent mind.

I have found myself in these moments in mid conversation, while driving, while giving a work presentation, while trail running with my dogs, eating a sandwich, for the last 3 ½ years.  They don't happen often.  There also never seems to be a warning, no major trigger word or situation.  I smell it, I see him, I feel things, and then it passes. 

The other night I had a dream that John came to me and Tristan to say hello.  He looked the way he always had and was so glad to meet Tristan.  After they shook hands, I went into give him a hug and he crumbled beneath me.  All that was left was a pile of bones and ash on the floor.

For a while I felt that these moments were my own internal punishment that I would bring on myself.  When I felt too relaxed, laughed too hard, kissed too passionately, enjoyed my day too much, I would bring on these visions as a reminder that all is not perfect, and getting too comfortable is dangerous.  I’d feel guilty for having a great day, so I’d let myself go back and feel his cold still hands resting in mine. I’d smell the formaldehyde.  I’d feel the pain again as if it were yesterday and then not feel as guilty for the things that happened that day that brought joy.  As years have gone by, I’ve accepted these strange and sudden moments as a new normal.

 I've also learned to forgive myself, to not worry anymore about what others think of my process, and that it is OK to love the woman I became after my husbands death.  I no longer feel the need to punish myself by purposely bringing this on, but accept that when these moments occur unexpectedly, just lean into them and sit with it, it will eventually pass.

So these experiences for me bring on multiple questions. What's up with these strange dreams, these auras, and why right now?  I wonder if maybe John is asking for my attention, maybe he needs to say something to the humans still here, so the vision of him both in the flesh and within the crumbles upon my feet are asking me to speak up.  Maybe the God I envision and love is asking for my attention and utilizing John to consider what needs to be said.  Maybe it is just simply what happens to those that lose someone so abruptly, a reminder that there is never really closure with experiences like that.

Every time I’ve written and shared my thoughts with others, every word and thought came on so strongly that I couldn’t hold back, I could not stop.  I never considered myself a writer, yet something about the sudden abrupt death of my husband catapulted me into thoughts and visions that had to go to the computer screen and had to be shared.  I’ve shared many things for my own release, my own validation, but every now and then I share something that I realize was never meant for me, it was meant for someone else.

So on this foggy rainy afternoon, I decided to go sit by John’s grave in Giles County, VA in the moss and wetness and consider, what should be said?

As I sit here quietly in the woods by my husbands resting place, the words of my soon to be husband Tristan came to mind.  “To refuse love, is to refuse God.”  Tristan said these words to me a few days ago while talking about the importance of family no matter what.

I think we live in a world where hate and judgment are just easy choices.  I have found myself at a crossroad between the choice to feel angry or the choice to try and see what may be broken in someone else and have compassion towards it.  I think finding love in everybody is a much harder path and it is not always natural to us, especially when people aren't like us.  I know parents and children that don’t speak to each other anymore, spouses that have become roommates, co-workers that “hate” each other, siblings that are completely disconnected, friends that let a difference in opinion stop all communication.  We’re too quick to complain, find the negativity in everything.  We don’t know how to sit with ourselves in silence anymore and consider if we really like who we are, who we are becoming.  We don’t really make room for God to engage with us, because it requires stillness, and total disconnection from our current world.  I myself have been pretty guilty of this lately, which is why I think I’ve started to have these visions again, these odd dreams.

We are all going to leave our bodies one day, and the physical connection we had to our body, and to those around us will be no more.  It is amazing how fast that can happen and how we’re not prepared.  I wasn’t prepared then, and I’m really not prepared now and I think maybe John, God, the universe is reminding me of this simple fact on this rainy afternoon.

I’m sitting on a bench by John’s grave, and notice that all these pretty flowers surrounding him are going to start budding soon, and they will look so pretty.  Underneath them are the remains of a physical body that once belonged to John Wilburn, yet what grows above him are flowers.  I think that sometimes we have to allow our old selves to die and cast off regrets, anger, judgment, worry, in order to find new perspective, and new life that is waiting to explode within us.  I believe that God imprints us with talents, unique thoughts, and purpose that's is instilled in us at birth.  But we live in a world where it is so easy to lose sight of that, because the choice to hate is so much easier.  We don't choose love, therefore we don't choose God, and we loose the explosion of love that was given to us from the moment we were born.  We forget the imprinting, we don't even realize our capabilities, and we never find the best versions of ourselves.

To refuse love, is to refuse God.  Well said Tristan my love.  To refuse God is to refuse the simple act of just being here on this earth and doing the best that you can.  I think I need to start asking myself, “is this really my best?”  Are my thoughts, my treatment of others, the work I put forth, my participation in my relationships with others, truly my best?

If it is not, maybe I need to remember my late husband and how one moment he was a physical body, the next he was a crumble of ash in my hands.  I need to smell the formaldehyde, remember the feeling of his cold hands and lips. How it can happen so fast and so suddenly.  I want to be prepared, I want to feel that I did my best and I treated others in a way that chooses love, chooses God.  None of us are perfect.  I still get stressed over finances, over my dogs mud tracks in the house, dishes in the sink.  I am not always my best, none of us are. On the other hand, I think the simple awareness of our choices, and knowing that we are actively trying to choose love, to choose God allows the imprint on our lives to come forward which brings out our best and spreads over others.  

So go sit by your loved ones resting place from time to time.  Let them speak to you and pay attention, they have an awareness of the universe that is beyond us.  Let God engage with you through them.  Let yourself lean into whatever comes forward, the auras, the visions, for they are simple reminders that we have that choice.  If we choose love, we choose God, and then we become our best.  So if you are smelling the formaldehyde, go ahead and embrace it, it may be bringing you back to your own imprint, to your best.

Divine Moments

My father-in-law Herb has called me almost every week for the last three years.  We've also spent time together supporting John's scholarship, tackling some beautiful western Virginia hikes, and have even braved time on the river together.   From the moment John was gone, Herb has checked on me month after month and made himself available to me whenever I needed him. My father in law has done this for me, regardless of his own pain and the weight he must carry daily.  I always admired the relationship John had with his dad and the many commonalities between the two.  Sometime’s being around the two at the same time felt like seeing what was probably a past version of Herb and a future version of John.   Both almost identical when it came to appearance, mannerisms, and love for the outdoors.  I looked forward to the thought of John becoming more and more like his dad into older age.  I pictured a more mellow version of John, where a simple hike, and the glimpse of a beautiful water fall may one day be enough for him to feel satisfied.

Two days after John’s death, Herb found me one evening in our back yard in Oregon alone and completely frozen as I clung to the still wet kayak gear hanging on the clothes line.  He walked up to me, put his arm around me and asked me to promise him that I would never stay in this moment, in this chapter for too long.  He asked me to promise him that I wouldn’t carry this burden of widowhood for the rest of my life and that I would move forward, and try and find happiness again.  He said that his hope for me was that I would find love again, and the thought of me staying in this moment was something he could not bare.  I remember the mere thought of that at the time felt like a foreign language.  I could not imagine or even grasp the vision of someone else at the time, so I just planted my head into Herb’s chest and cried.

It has been three years since Herb and I had that foggy conversation in my Oregon back yard.  He has continued to call almost every week, and each time I have felt just a little bit better.  Herb is one of the few people in my life that truly understand and live in a reality with me where we never "move on," we simply try and move forward.  We carry the loss and the homesickness for John together in different forms, but I think we both have tried and have even encouraged each other silently over the years to find joy again, for what other choice is there.

Last week, Tristan Borgeson asked me to be his wife.  I came home from a long day of work  to a handsome man, a wonderful meal, flowers, and a beautiful stainless steel wedding ring that Tristan made himself from a bike that belonged to my husband John.  I was so overwhelmed by this incredible gesture, I just sunk into his chest in our kitchen and cried.

It's amazing how something so wonderful, like when a man ask you to marry him, can bring such excitement and joy, yet also a sharp pain in your chest.  I felt as if I was feeling pure excitement and giddy love, yet a sense of loss and chaos simultaneously.

 Tristan has poured nothing but selfless love into me for the last 18 months, why could I not just feel pure happiness towards the fact that I am going to be someones wife again?  Why did my happiness have to be shared with a sense of pain?  I felt somewhat robbed by this experience, for it was different than what I had imagined it would feel like.  These new feelings seemed to lead to guilt, and even anger at myself.  Days later, I even felt angry at John, frustrated by my conflicting pain and joy.

 I stopped referring to myself as a widow a little over a year ago.  I hated the sound of it, and the reactions people would give me, as if the kid gloves needed to immediately come on the moment "widow" was placed beside my name.  I started checking "single" again with all the various forms, I did not feel the need for the W title anymore.  I loved being married when John was alive, and knew I wanted to experience it again with Tristan pretty quickly into our relationship.  So why is it that when  this moment came, I wasn't fully enamored with joy?

I think it is important to be transparent about the feelings that come with new love after abrupt loss, marriage after a lost marriage, because it is real.  I've learned that it can be messy and challenging, it requires deep work and dedication from us both.  It has required so much sacrifice from Tristan.  I've basically asked him to forfeit his ego, and to never allow the fact that I was once a wife to someone else affect him in a way that hurts him or hurts us.  He does it so seamlessly and with no resentment.  I tell him I'm having a rough day, he tells me he loves me no matter what.  I tell a story about John from the past, Tristan listens to me with full attention and laughs when I do.  When I cry for John, Tristan hugs me.  I don't know other men like this.

I look back over my 33 years on earth and can remember different moments throughout my life that have allowed spiritual growth and perseverance to come forward in ways that felt almost super natural to me at the time.  I believe God gives us divine moments in order to touch us and help us grow in ways that would be impossible if we only knew our flesh and blood.  I believe we are presented with different seasons in our lives that require us to act within that period of time in order to move into our next moment.  I can look back to even the smallest moments when I first met my husband John, and can clearly see how those specific times were also leading me to my soon to be husband, Tristan.  I don't believe these are coincidence, I believe each moment is connected and helping each of us accelerate into higher vibrations that bring us closer and closer to God.

So why the tug of war on my heart after such great news?  When Tristan asked me to be his wife, I placed myself back into a previous season in my life that required a different action from me at the time.  Being the widow of John Wilburn has been the most challenging spiritual walk of my life.  It has presented a season in my life that has come with pain I did not know existed within the human body.  That season demanded me to walk alone, find my voice, define who I am, and to share the experience with others.  It has been a season of suffering yes, but also higher vibrations, a deeper sense of my personal spirituality, and most importantly, seeing just how big God is and what he can do in my life.

That season and that time, is not of now.  When we place ourselves into our past moments, our past seasons, we so often miss out on what is happening right now.  We feel things that are not of now, and risk missing out on what God wants for us in the present moment.  I realized over this past week, that God isn't asking me to go back, he's asking me to step into this season right now, and allow myself to feel the joy and pure happiness that has been there all along.  We don't move on, we move forward.

"Instead of your shame, you will have a double portion, and instead of humiliation they will shout for joy over their portion.  Therefore they will possess a double portion in their land, and everlasting joy will be theirs."  Isaiah 61:7

I read these words and I just feel so overwhelmed and in awe of where my life has taken me. As I sunk into Tristan's chest, I thought back to that Divine moment with my father-in law, and the words he said to me in the absolute fog of my grief.  And here I was 3 years later, saying yes.  

I have had the honor and pleasure of knowing two great men in my life that have loved me fiercely.  I will always love my husband John and cherish the seasons I had with him, and I will always love my soon to be husband Tristan, and the chance to move forward with him, walk through new seasons with him,and to allow God to bring us into divine moments together.  

Love, Exist, Be.

My husband came to see me in my dreams last night.  It has been over a year since his last visit, and I must say, our encounter was lovely.

I was at what felt like a party at the time.  Maybe a pot luck, people were laughing and catching up.  As I skimmed the room, I suddenly saw John standing in the corner staring at me with a huge smile across his face.  My heart felt like it may explode, I knew it was him so I ran over to him.  He gave me the biggest hug.  I felt his arms around me and the smell of burning wood and sweat.  He looked and felt just as I remembered him, but better.  It was like looking at someone with no flaws, no weight, no pain.  He looked at peace and happy.  I kept saying, "where have you been, I've missed you so much."  He just smiled and took my hands and led me to this bench.  As we sat down, I noticed that he continued to hold both of my hands and continued to just smile at me. I was shocked that no one else seemed to notice that John was back.  It was as if they could not see him.  I kept saying, "everyone, John is back!"  No one even looked at me.  I realized then that only I could see him.

I remember firing off question after question.  “Where have you been this entire time?”  “What is it like where you are now?”  “Are the colors just beautiful like they say?”  “Do you still have your body when you’re not here?”  “Can you become one with things, like flowers, mountains, trees?”  “What purpose do you have now?  What is your job”. What do you do every day?”

John just laughed and laughed at me while shaking his head.  He said to me, “Erin, these things are not for you to understand right now, or contemplate or predict.  They are not for you right now.  You shouldn’t worry, or try to find the answers to things you simply can’t understand or contemplate.  Why must everything have a purpose?  Why must I now have a purpose?  What if the purpose is simply to be, to love, to exist.  You are not here to seek answers to questions you cannot comprehend. You are here to love, to exist, to just be.”

As he said these things to me, he continued to smile and glow.  He looked so good, just at complete peace.  He laughed at my constant questions and shook his head with a big smile and once again said, “Don’t you worry about these things Erin, you’ll understand one day, and it will be ok.”

He told me that he had to go.  I said, “I have one more question for you.  Will you please come and see me from time to time, even into old age?  Will you see those that need you the most?”  John looked at me and said, “I am much closer than it may be seem, and I will always come and see you.  Now go, love, and just be.”

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him.  He was warm against my chest.  I looked up again and he began to fade away.  The last thing I remember was his smile that seemed to turn into a warm mist. 

The moment I woke up I knew we had spoken.  It was the same feeling I had the first time John came to see me after his death.  When you know you’ve had more than just a blurry dream.  This felt like a message for those of us that are still here.  I woke Tristan up immediately to tell him what had happened.  He encouraged me to write about it so it remains clear to me, so I did.

I’ve only seen John three times since his death in my dreams.  I cherish those encounters like fine gold.  It is all that is left.  I think we as humans tend to over complicate things.  We need an answer, a purpose for everything.  As life moves forward and I continue to wake up every morning to another day, I am realizing more and more that God is so big and he wants to take care of us every day, bless us beyond anything we can imagine.

I thought about what John said to me, “You are here to love, to exist, to just be.”  Maybe it really is that simple.

I miss my husband every day. But, these precious encounters are a wonderful reminder that he truly is OK, that we really all are OK.  Life continues after life, and while many of us have found ourselves separated too soon from those that go before us, we’re not really all that far away.  So for now, simply love, simply exist, and simply be.  The rest isn't for us right now, but we'll get it one day.