When you lose everything you own, in some kind of natural disaster, you are stunned. After the horrifying sounds, you look around you, gathering your own close, you cannot believe what you see. There’s no roof. Glass and rubble are everywhere. Navigating down the stairs is dangerous. But you need to get out and do so quickly. You need to live.

As the hours and days progress, you dig through what was once your home. What can be salvaged? What needs to be protected from further damage? How do we accomplish that? Where do we start?

Thankfully, I have not lost things. I am surrounded by belongings. Some of the possessions were bought years ago and have become old friends. Others were handed down from my parents and grandparents. The piano in my living room belonged to my aunt, who was my piano teacher. The dining room table belonged to my parents. My Mom and Nana needlepointed the six seats on the chairs while my father was in the army during WWII. Many of these things I have grown up with. I am thankful to have them. But what I have lost has wounded more than the loss of objects, even family treasures.

I have lost the man who enjoyed these treasures with me. I have lost my best friend and husband. I have lost my sweetheart and lover. I have lost my partner in crime. What fun we had! What entertaining we did! Together, we have had many dinner parties around that table. Some were elegant, some were casual, some were crazy fun.

But he is dead, and now I sit at the head of the table. Now I am the head of our house.

It has been six weeks. Grief has changed in these weeks, but it is not gone. It doesn’t dog my steps as closely as it once did. Now it hides and jumps out at me when my back is turned, and I think I’m doing better. All I know to do is trust God and keep on keeping on.