By Sharon (SD) Mac
The morning after I came home, after crying myself to sleep in his chair. I didn’t wake up rested. I just opened my eyes and remembered.
Steve’s gone…He really is gone…
And yet, somehow, I still had to move.
The world didn’t stop. Not even for a moment.
That morning, I had to work.
The day after my husband died, I sat down, turned on my computer, and tried to function. I don’t even know how my hands moved or how I answered anyone’s questions. But I did. Because I had to. Bills still came. Clients still called. Life demanded I keep going.
It wasn’t strength, it was survival.
I remember whispering to God, “Lord, I can’t do this.”
And somehow, He whispered back, “You don’t have to. I will carry you.”
That afternoon, I met with the girls, my mother-in-law, my sister-in-law, and my nephew. We went to the funeral home. The same one that had just held his father’s service before.
Two funerals.
Two goodbyes.
One family, still reeling from the shock.
Some relatives stayed to attend Steve’s service; others had to leave and return to their lives. Everyone moved softly, like the air itself was fragile.
When we walked in, the scent of lilies hit me that familiar mix of beauty and grief. I stood there numb as the funeral director began talking about dates, caskets, and programs. His voice sounded far away, like I was underwater.
The girls were strong. My mother-in-law, sister-in-law spoke when I couldn’t. I sat there, watching, hearing, breathing, but not really there.
Every question about colors, flowers, caskets and music cut deep. Because the truth was, it’s too soon to be planning this as he’s too young to die. We talked about planning these things when we get older, he should’ve been there planning it with me not for him, but with me.
Still, I could feel him.
That same calm I always felt when he’d take charge of things…it filled the room. It was like he was saying, “Babe, make it meaningful. Make it about the message…about God and His mercy and grace.”
And that’s what I did.
I told them I didn’t want a show. Steve would’ve hated that. I wanted a service that preached, one that pointed people to Christ, not the pain.
When we were done, we all just sat quietly. Nobody had words. We had done what we could, but the weight of it was too heavy to measure.
I walked outside with the girls and sat in my van, hands shaking, heart numb, and whispered,
“Okay, Babe. I did it.”
And in that stillness, I felt it again…that quiet presence I’ve come to know so well. The peace that only God can give when everything inside you is falling apart.
It didn’t shout.
It didn’t rush in.
It simply whispered:
“Be still.”
And somehow, even there, between loss and obedience…
it was still… It is well with my soul.
Soli Deo Gloria!
To God Alone be the Glory
“Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.” -2Timothy 2:3
“Resolved, never to give over, nor in the least to slacken, my fight with my corruptions, however unsuccessful I may be.” -Jonathan Edwards, Resolution, 56
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