I feel invisible.
I make myself invisible.
What a quandary!
Who am I, this woman missing a chunk of her heart?
I search the Faithful One who sees the overwhelmed...the overlooked.  
Lady in waiting... 

Baby steps...
I have been wading in murky waters these past few weeks; seems like I make some healthy progress and then I take a tailspin.  
My precious friend, Marie, prays big prayers for me every Thursday. Today's prayers, focused on timidity and fear, got me thinking about facing some of those things I've been avoiding. 
There's a list; believe me! 
I've been driving by Los Tios, a local hangout of ours, nearly every day this summer. I've avoided eating there ever since Rob became sick. How can I ever enjoy fish tacos and pralines without Rob sitting across the table? How do I hold myself together when I see friends who also frequent our neighborhood restaurant?  
Well, tonight I decided to slay this first giant on my current list of "I'm never going back there again."  I made it half way through the meal; "Please, sir, may I have a carryout box to hold my heartache?" 
Baby steps...
Too many couples our age...no tears, just deep sadness.
Fear #2...our community pool.   
Our family spent many summer evenings at our neighborhood pool while the kids were growing up and then, Rob and I kept up our routine as empty nesters.
Rob would jog up to the pool while I drove. In recent years, I worried when it took him longer than usual. Funny how I always feared a heart attack, never cancer. We would swim our laps, then sink neck deep into the tepid waters, shoulders always touching, and mull over our day as the sun slipped away.
I had not been up there either since Rob's diagnosis. Again, what if it is just too much; what could this place of only sweet memories hold for me now?
Well, I did it! I held back tears while watching a young man swim the laps I wished my own husband was completing and God, my rescuer, provided the perfect distraction: a darling four year old named Andrew. He stuck like glue to me, telling me all about his super heroes and swimming skills. Little did he know he was my super hero this tough evening. 
More baby steps...
I am learning that I don't need to hold on to all the things Rob and I enjoyed as a couple. Some need to be shelved with the memories, but I won't know what to keep and what to replace unless I trust God and face these fears. 
Keep stepping...keep trusting...

For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline. 2 Timothy 1:7.  NLT

Think me crazy, think me stuck, think whatever you want, but I can't take the Rob out of "Rob and Robin."  Several months ago I caved to guilt and removed a picture of the two of us from my social media and every time I look at my wall, I just feel empty. There's been a lot of talk about marriage lately; it's caused me to take a deep look at my own. Rob and I were the lucky ones.  It's a mystery how two imperfect, very flawed people could not only survive 37 years together, but enjoy a marriage as complete and deep as ours. Pure grace which I continue to celebrate, even after death's divide.   
Experts tell me I should be shaping a new identity, one with new goals and purpose. Pardon my chuckle, but it's hard to teach this old dog new tricks. Oh sure, I'm writing some new, shaky chapters, but I'm afraid Rob is permanently etched on my heart and planted deep in my soul.  
This weekend, two teens reminded me that "R-Squared" is kind of a legacy not easily forgotten.  So for now, I'm just placing any guilt and pressure back on a dusty ol' shelf and smiling each time I look at my photo of one happy, married couple. 
  

Grandma's peanut butter cookies, wrapped in gold foil packaging...Funny how images like that pop into my mind two years later. I could always count on finding MD Anderson's comfort food in the little wicker baskets next to the coffee stirrers.  Either Ryan or Bobby would sit by Rob while the toxins dripped, allowing me a quick escape for what was often my lunch and dinner rolled into one.  I can still feel the lump of sweet dough catching in my throat as I remember desperately fighting back tears of reality. Seeking comfort in the silliest of things when hope quickly sinks, when your love is the sickest man on the floor, when cancer eats at your soul... 

Father's Day 2015

I had dreaded it.  I planned to spend a quiet morning at Rob's grave site, avoiding the faces of all the fathers I esteem and the greetings of a Hallmark holiday, but my plans and my heart began to melt with the news my boys were coming home! 

I couldn't avoid church; this was Alex's day and I found myself wanting to make him the focus of Father's Day, not the sadness of a missing husband. We really enjoyed the opening day at Bayou City Fellowship's new campus, enveloped in excitement and a healthy dose of friendliness. We caught up with old friends, Starbucks in hand, of course.  I felt myself smiling throughout the sermon as I sat with my son, the spitting image of his father, and I traveled back to memories of sitting on an aisle as a family of five on Father's Day...sweet, healing thoughts.

Then, boom! God makes his stunning appearance!

At the end of the service, Curtis had all of the men rise for a "commission" of sorts. Each woman placed a hand on their man and we prayed for their influence in our needy world. Words can't describe how powerful it is to watch your son, an excellent father and follower of Christ, stand as a man!

God spoke very clearly to me as we asked Him to send these men out to live as relentless examples of Jesus, to not falter, but to finish strong. He reminded me in those extraordinary moments that I had watched a man for over four decades live that very prayer and now he gets to rest in his Father's arms. We inscribed on Rob's headstone with confidence 2 Timothy 4:7: I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith! Now God inscribes it on his heart and tells him face to face, the desire of every child of God.

And Rob's legacy continues...

In the lives of his children

his grandchildren

and countless young men and women.

Friday, I received the most beautiful card ever, a Father's Day card, acknowledging the love of a daddy and reminding me that I am now mom/dad, grandmother/granddaddy all rolled into one! 

A defining moment for me, I felt a powerful understanding of my own commission and a renewed zeal to keep this cherished life fresh in the hearts of our family.

Rob, you are alive in our hearts; your life is forever seared on ours. We will never forget you and promise to carry on the love and wisdom you poured into others. We thank our God for the lessons He has taught us through you. You finished well as a husband, father, granddaddy and friend. We love you dearly!

On any given rush hour,  this little roadster could be seen maneuvering its way through the Katy Freeway evening traffic. The suit-clad driver was intent on getting to a dugout, soccer field or basketball court. He usually made it with only seconds to spare; on nights he was coaching one of his kids, he'd make a complete wardrobe change inside this tiny car and would emerge ready to  give his all after a loaded day of intense meetings.
There were very few nights Rob came home and slipped into his easy chair to enjoy an evening of television. If his child was playing sports, which was most of the time, he was present...never overbearing, always encouraging.  

Rob, you truly were one of the best "hands on" dads.

Thanks for sacrificing your own time to invest in the lives of our children.

This weekend we pause to celebrate you.

You will be greatly missed this Father's Day, but

we will lovingly remember you with all of our hearts.

Loss re-writes one's address book

Yes, that is what I'm learning these dog days of grief. I know I'm not alone; I've just joined a unique club of women void of spouse either by death or divorce. We often find our names missing from invitation lists and social gatherings; I've even found my name erased from the very ministries I've cherished most of my life. 

Many months after Rob's death, I glance at my address book filled with couples and his work friends and realize I'm likely to never hear from these folks again. It causes me to ponder the reason: awkwardness, the reality of busy lives, or the painful thought that I was only worthy as Rob's partner.  

I'm sure I'm guilty of erasure as well; I just didn't understand the great loneliness and assault on one's identity after tragic loss. 

Gratefully, new entries have been added to my edited pages and a few faithfuls have remained through trial and fire. I'm not complaining, just learning a new normal I never anticipated. 

But if I'm honest, I must admit that each crossed-out entry in my worn address book finds me grieving all over again. My life and friendships will never look the same. I'm not married; I'm not single...I have no idea who to invite into this next chapter.