The second anniversary of our son’s death had come and gone, and I was both glad it had passed, and at the same time, felt rather guilty because I hadn’t really grieved. As the day (July 7) had approached, I had felt duty-bound to give Sarah the opportunity to do something to remember her Daddy if she wanted to since it could easily be arranged for her to be with us that Friday.

As we drove Sarah to our house that day, I reminded her that we had done something special last year to remember her Dada on the anniversary of the day he passed away. I asked if she would like to do something special today since this was the second anniversary—something like we did last year with balloons or something different, like writing him a letter or drawing him a picture.

Sarah was silent for so long, I finally said, “It’s okay if you don’t want to do anything this year… if it just make things harder to remember him.”

Another long silence passed. Then Sarah responded, without looking at me, in a voice that told me this was hard for her to say and she didn’t want to talk about it. “I don’t want to do anything.”

I assured her again that it was all right not to do anything and realized in my heart of hearts that I didn’t want to do anything either. I was actually relieved that Sarah didn’t want to do anything.

The day passed and I did nothing on the second anniversary of Robb’s death except post a memory brought up by Facebook of a funny video of Robb and Sarah. This video captured one of my favorite memories of our last family vacation at Deep Creek, Maryland, in 2020, but I wasn’t overwhelmed with emotion as I watched it–just happy to post something Facebook had already prepared for me.

A little guilt tugged at me again as I read the things Robb’s twin sister had posted on Facebook with obvious emotion as she honored her brother on the second anniversary of his death. Why didn’t I feel that way? Still I couldn’t bring myself to post something that wasn’t from my heart.

 As more days went by, I was still occasionally plagued by guilt at my lack of emotion and at some level, felt that Robb would have been so disappointed in me. And him being who he was, admittedly given to taking on rejection, he would have taken it as an indication that I had never really loved him. However, with some determination, I refused to allow him to control how I grieved. And life went on, with me unaware that, even as it did, I was walking through another stage of the grief process.

Robb’s oldest son, Zack, was married just a week after the second anniversary of Robb’s death, and I shared in a previous blog some of my soul-searching as well of some of God’s comfort that Robb’s life hadn’t been wasted just because it didn’t end well.

I didn’t share in that blog that the wedding was a very difficult occasion for Robb’s middle child who talked and wept all the way home from the wedding, pouring out his sorrow and anger from unresolved grief and the questions he wanted God to answer about his dad’s death. For some days, I was consumed with finding ways to help him. I was much more concerned with his grief than my lack of it. I simply assumed that I was finished grieving.

Then a few weeks later, when I was alone in the house with our Contemporary Christian Music channel turned on, Steve Chapman’s version of “Cinderella” began to play.

She spins and she sways to whatever song plays
Without a care in the world
And I’m sitting here wearing
The weight of the world on my shoulders

It’s been a long day and there’s still work to do
She’s pulling at me saying, “Dad, I need you
There’s a ball at the castle and I’ve been invited
And I need to practice my dancin’
Oh, please, daddy, please”

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
‘Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don’t want to miss even one song
‘Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she’ll be gone

As I listened to the words of that song, from somewhere deep inside, a well of grief burst, and I began to sob out loud as the thought of Sarah growing up without a Daddy devastated me, as well as the thought that unless Robb had changed his ways, I had no expectation that he would have been there to dance with her even if he had lived because of his skewed priorities.

I cried out to God, “It didn’t have to be this way, God! It didn’t have to be this way.”

Again I wondered as I had many times, would things have been different if Robb had been able to keep his job at Goldstein’s?  If he’d never gotten involved with the furniture liquidation company who came in to do closing sales at Goldstein’s where he’d worked for many years, never gotten a taste of the lifestyle they lived and the approval he received because he was so good at that kind of work? Would it have made a difference?

Later, when a door opened for Robb to work for a large liquidation company, he took the job and it consumed him and changed who he was. He went from being a man who said, “I wouldn’t have a job that I couldn’t put my kid first,” to being a man who said an explosive “No” when I asked if he’d looked into getting help that one of his children needed. When I asked him why he hadn’t, he responded angrily, “Because I work 110 hours a week” (not an exaggeration).

Although I stood up and walked away before I said things I’d regret, the words in my heart were, “Who are you and what have you done with my son?”

I’ll never know whether things would have been different if Robb had been able to keep his job at Goldstein’s, but the changes in our son and the consequences to his children are what I grieve most of all. Also knowing that if Robb had lived, they could still have had an absentee dad, addicted to his work and the approval it brought him.

And so my grief process continues…surprising me by it power to rise up like a sudden storm on a clear day from hearing a song that reminds me of a little girl who will grow up without a daddy, of the haunting thought that it didn’t have to be that way, and the evidence that our choices have consequences, not only for us but for our loved ones as well.

Through all of this, I’ve learned that I can’t grieve by the calendar or according to anyone else’s expectations, forcing emotions that I don’t feel because this is the day I should grieve. The same is true for Robb’s children when facing their own storms of grief. All I can do is be available to them as long as God gives me breathe and pray that they will learn, as I have, where to go with their unanswerable questions when surprised by grief.

Most of us have experienced an event in our lives that left us with more questions than answers. In the face of unanswerable questions, Jesus is present to help. When we seek Him in scripture, reflect on His love, and obey His commandments day by day, we will find rest for our troubled spirit.  (Unanswerable Questions, The Upper Room)

Father, I pray that when we or any of our loved ones are surprised by grief, we will bring all our unanswered questions to you and allow you to provide the comfort and peace that we need. Amen.

Health Update

As some of you know, I wasn’t able to have chemo on Tuesday, August 8, because of an area of concern on my left leg. Thankfully, nothing bad showed up on my blood work but the Cancer Center prescribed a high dose of an antibiotics and requested that I see my PCP as soon as possible. She believes it’s an infection rather than cellulites since there is no fever and she gave me a long list of things to watch for and call her immediately if they appear. We need to wait a few more days to see if the antibiotic is working, and she wants to see me again on Monday before I return to Hillman Cancer Center on Tuesday. Please pray for healing for this infection whether through the antibiotic or simply the power of Jesus. Thank you so much for your prayers.

As always our trip to the Cancer Center on Tuesday wasn’t wasted, and I’ll share more with you about it next week.