I didn't know what to expect for this spring's third "sadiversaries" of losing Tracy. The first year Reed had Cessna maintenance classes in Wichita. Two of Reed's classmates joined us for dinner at Texas Roadhouse exactly one year after Trace died. They tolerantly listened to many Tracy stories and it was healing to be able to share about him with people who would not become sad. I think it even helped the one whose son died six years before, because he showed me his son's picture when we left the restaurant. He said he had not looked at that picture or spoken of him in years. During last year's sadiversaries, Reed was having tests for his prostate cancer, so our focus was more on physical healing than healing grief.
This year I realized I had been telling those who asked that I was fine, but inside I was counting down until the 22nd, not in a "fine" way, so I asked for prayer from three groups I am a part of. I could tell the prayers from them and others helped because, although I was still counting down, my feeling of dread subsided. Saturday's emotions were as mixed as the weather--snow, rain, sun, stirred together by the wind. While we did not have opportunities to talk about Trace, as we did that first year, the Lord stirred lots of people to talk with into the mixture of our day. The two older gentlemen who are often at Tool Palace during our weekly visit shared, after I did, that they had both lost sons. Odd.
We wanted to choose a place for dinner that Tracy would like, and decided on a tiny-home sized barbecue place in Somers called "Cowboy Up." Since we were the only customers, I thought maybe we could visit with the waitress/owner about Trace. Instead another couple came in. The wife looked remarkably like a girl whose family went to the same church as Reed's, and was a close friend of Reed's sister. But that was in Missoula, so the odds of this fellow diner in a restaurant that seats 15 being the same person seemed slim. However, when I asked if they were local and she told me they were from Clinton, I knew it was her. Again, we didn't talk much about Tracy, but caught up on other things. Then the cook/owner came in to visit with us. He had also lost a son. 3 out of the 4 men I talked to that day had lost sons. Only God could beat odds that odd.
At another hardware store on Sunday, we ran into a friend we had not seen for years. Alan's wife died two years ago, so he understood recent loss. And then he was able to encourage Reed about radiation for prostate cancer because he had also gone through that. So we added our visit with Alan to God's odd itinerary for our weekend.
Monday, the anniversary of the day we found out about Tracy, Amanda offered to meet at the cemetery. She brought her sister April, who I had wanted a chance to talk to ever since her son died in a car accident in January. April is thinking of buying a plot for Alihn at the same cemetery. The wind seemed to be plotting against the purchase, it was particularly cold and strong that day. I was pleased to know April is already attending Griefshare. I gave her my Lament book and the "Heaven" booklet we give to so many in Tracy's memory. We also now have each other's contact info. I gave Amanda a book too, the one about our family, since we consider her family-- Life Lines of the Lamb. Between the emotions, the sharing, and the wind, I felt very drained for the rest of the night. It took every ounce of my concentration just to fix dinner. I knew I would be unable to focus for ladies prayer time, and did not go, but my request did.
So our third sadiversaries were packed with prayer and people . . . and purpose, everything God does has purpose. Odds are, He won't let me know what it is. But that is not odd, for God.
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