7.7.21 – the day my world changed. The day my love, my best friend, my other half for the last 28 years, my boo took his last breath.

When moments like these happen, time slows, you are disoriented, you move forward but it feels as if you aren’t taking any ground. Remember the jello mold example? This is where it started.

We had been having discussions about if he was still fighting to make it back to us for about a week. We had a meeting with several doctors and his best nurse Heather to talk about what they were seeing from a medical perspective. We asked questions and then proceeded to meet with a hospice representative before leaving on Monday. We had prayed as a family. We had prayed over Jason. We knew the direction we needed to move in and had peace knowing our decision was best for his physical body and health. Tuesday rolled in and Abby spent time in the morning with her dad. This was going to be her time before the family began arriving to say their final goodbyes to have uninterrupted time to talk with and pray over her daddy. I began calling family and friends to update them on the decisions we had made and how best to pray and support us in the coming days.

Tuesday afternoon/evening was my time. It was quiet, it was peaceful. Worship music was playing. I took time to pray and confess healing. But I also took time to talk to him. I spent time just being with him, holding his hand, and talking with the nurses and doctors that came in and out of his room while I was there. Finally, before leaving, I told him that Abby and I would be ok. We had plenty of support both with our family and our community. He was free to make his choice to either fight and stay with us, or rest in the presence of our Heavenly Father. I knew which he would choose.

Wednesday morning the phone rang…it was the hospital. I was expecting this call before it actually came. He was declining. We made some phone calls and headed to the hospital. His favorite nurse and ours, Heather, was there to meet us. She explained that he was struggling to keep his oxygen levels and blood pressure up even with the ventilator turned up to the highest level and all his blood pressure medications maxed out. He was choosing the presence of our Heavenly Father. We played worship music, we prayed, we sat in silence.

He passed away at about 9:00 am on Wednesday morning. It was peaceful because we have the hope of a glorious reunion.

As we gathered as a family we began to ask the following questions: Why? Why me? Why Jason? Why not someone else? To be honest it felt “wrong” to ask questions like these. But in the days following I had people encourage me to keep asking those questions and any others that came to my heart and mind because Jesus asked those questions. When He was praying in the garden, sweating blood, He essentially asked the question “Why me? Could this possibly be someone else’s job?” Then when He was on the cross, He asked God, “Why have you forsaken me?”.

When walking through grief you often find yourself asking the “Why” questions. The questions that you know deep down you will not get an answer but ask anyway in an effort to relieve some of the pain. Feel free to ask those questions. It is not wrong. The example of Jesus asking those questions in a season of life that brought grief and pain is a great example of how our Heavenly Father is inviting us to ask similar questions about our grief and pain. Afterall, relationships are best when they have communication from both parties involved.

We may never know the answer to the “why” questions, but what I do know is that in Philippians 4:6-7 it says, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” It does not say that He will give us an answer, but He will give us peace.

Rest in His peace knowing that His plans will be revealed and make sense one day soon.