Reflections
The First Time I lost Him
His surgery was supposed to take four to six hours. George's neck dissection took eleven and a half.
At hour five, the surgical nurse emerged to let me know the procedure was more intricate than expected. I didn't understand her words really meant the cancer was more extensive than expected.
Even without that understanding, I was fearful and reached for my phone to call my best friend.
My breath caught in my throat and my heart broke as I silently held my phone.
I couldn't call my best friend, he was in surgery.
Counting to Ten
Cindy, the second certified female firefighter in the state of Florida, gave me invaluable and hard earned advice as I entered Fire College.
She said "Betty Jean, you can do anything for ten seconds." She explained, "It's going to get mentally and physically brutal. You're going to feel you can't continue any longer. When you get to that point, just count to ten. If you're still not done, count to ten again. Keep counting to ten until you're done."
I applied that advice many times throughout my twelve long weeks of fire college. As I counted to ten, exhausted, vomiting, and willing myself to keep going, I kept reminding myself: "I can do anything for ten seconds."
Holding Space
I have come to understand that holding space is whatever I want it to be.
Honoring my husband can happen free from judgment and free from artificially imposed timelines.
Covering a wall with photos, creating a shrine, or lighting a candle... all of that is considered holding space.
When friends and family want to hold space for me, it means allowing me to grieve in my own way, for as long as I need, minus the judgement.