FEATURE STORY
I have 12 snapshots of bridges hanging in the cutest frames on my wall in my bedroom. And I can barely type the word “my” instead of “our.” It’s just my bedroom now, because on April 4, he went to be with Jesus. And I now sleep alone. I don’t like it. Not at all.
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It’s now been almost a month since he passed and I’m not well. Who would be, and who is, when they lose their best friend of 47 years? There are no words to describe the heartbreak, and it’s only worsened, after the initial shock of his sudden illness and being gone so quickly.
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Writing this, I’m having one of my hardest days yet…and then I see the snapshots of the bridges again. Bridges are one of my favorite captures on my phone. I don’t know why, but when I see a bridge, I pause and look at it, with a long gaze. I think bridges are beautiful and versatile and in such pretty places. They might span across a huge river or just barely cover a small stream, but there they are…the crossing point.
Often on vacation is where we saw the coolest bridges, with the covered bridges of the northeast being my favorite. We even drove miles just to find them and take pictures. We don’t have covered bridges in Texas, so that’s why the covered bridges are so unique and worth seeing. I remember spotting the first one I ever saw several years ago. It was in New Hampshire and we were driving around a curve on a beautiful stretch of highway, and there it was. A covered bridge that took my breath away.
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As I thought of the bridges on my wall today, after a long morning of crying so hard because I miss him so much, I thought about why bridges even exist. There’s this passage or path that can’t be taken without them. Bridges span across so that we can then walk and not fall into the abyss below. Or…bridges just look pretty as they cross a small pond, even on a golf course. Bridges across large bodies of water enable us to travel to distance places and arrive safely.
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That’s what Jon did. He took the bridge across, to the other side, as they say. And I had to stay on this side. Honestly, today I am not wanting to be on this side of that bridge. Why couldn’t I go with him when he went? And why was his crossing so treacherous and full of pain?
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The word “bridge” is not in the bible at all, but there are references to gaps and disconnection with the Father because of sin. Jesus filled that gap and became the bridge, so to speak, between us and the Father. And both of us, my husband and I, have experienced the union with the Father. We both loved God and we both believed in His goodness. So that bridge – we both crossed – and we lived on the other side of his goodness and mercy pursuing us all of our days.
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However, the bridge he crossed that day without me is one that caused me pain of the deepest kind. I stand here pining and longing to hold his hand again, feel his embrace, and hear his voice. But there’s silence. Silence in my house and in my bedroom and in every space of this house that once was full of life…our life together.
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Everyone tries to offer their comforting words, and even the comfort in the Bible is not comforting me today. I know he’s in a better place, and believe me – I’m thankful his pain is over. But mine is just beginning. And I have no idea if I’ll cross that bridge tomorrow or in many years from how. All I know is I’m on this side and he’s on the other side. And I’m peering across but losing sight of him, as I’m standing alone wondering what he’s doing and why he went so soon, and without me.
Those bridge photos are different to me now. All 12 of them are from places we traveled together, with a couple being from our own hometown. And as I look at them every night before I go to sleep, I long to go with him. I miss him, and I can’t do life here without him, or so I tell myself. It hurts too badly.
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I am even too weak to elevate my thoughts today and pull myself up to higher levels of thinking that bring peace. I know there’s a purpose for me still being here, I know that all things work together for good, and I know that the Lord is still my Shepherd. And I tried my best to keep my husband here on this side. I stood by his bed, I prayed, I bargained with God, I did all the things…and still he crossed over without me.
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Everyone has someone on the other side eventually, and the pain is stifling. My kids tell me to sit still and just be. The Word says to trust in God with all my heart and not to lean unto my own understanding. My mind screams, “Why, God? This hurts too much.” I really don’t want to hear about my purpose or the plan or His ways being higher than mine.
And yet…that’s the bridge…digesting those Words of Life that will carry me to peace somehow. That’s the bridge I am called to cross for now, until I get to cross the bridge that Jon took to be with Jesus. That bridge, for him, was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed. And I cannot get the images out of my mind as he was declining in the hospital so rapidly.
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But to this I cling, while I stare through the covered bridge of darkness where I see nothing ahead for me. God is good. He loves me and he sent his son to die for me. He is alive and he covered all the sin in my heart, and he defeated death.
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I remember once, when we hadn’t been married too long, we had just suffered material loss that was too much. I sat on the side of the road and asked myself, “If I know nothing but Jesus loves me, died for me, and lives in me,” will that be enough? It’s simple, just like Jon’s simple faith. And it’s enough.
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It just has to be.