Broken, but Beautiful

The first days without him meant so much to me, even through my deep pain.

You could say I was in shock, and I actually was- but there were things happened in those first few days that comforted me, and saved me during my darkest moments.

Picking your 26 year old husband’s grave is not normal. Picking your own grave next to him? Even more surreal. There are so many decisions and aspects in planning after death, and it was excruciating having to do any of it. Picking his grave was one of the most spiritual experiences I’ve ever had. One day soon, I’ll share more about this. It was beautiful, yet it broke me at the same time.

I was fortunate to have my father-in-law helping me plan the details for Cale’s service, and in doing so- he picked a little mom-and-pop funeral home in our hometown of Castle Rock. When we first pulled up to it, I almost had to laugh- it was a little old house, and I wanted to yell at him because whaaat was this place.

But, this was actually a blessing, and I didn’t know it yet. I spent almost every day that week with him. For hours. I talked to him, I laid next to him, I played our songs, I prayed. It was later that I learned that I wouldn’t have had that time with him, and I wouldn’t have had the options I did without going to this place. And for that, I am so grateful.

We sat down with family and close friends, as I was asked to chose Cale’s casket, flowers, and all of the little things you don’t even think of in these moments. It’s ridiculous, honestly.

ALL I wanted to do was to see him. And to be with him alone.

I remember getting ready that day, and feeling butterflies as if I was going on a date with him again. I couldn’t wait to be with him. It’s all I wanted.

I was rushing through decisions, just ready to be taken to where he was. I didn’t know what to expect, and everyone was warning me of what he would look like, I didn’t care. I needed him.

My stomach was literally turning, and I felt like I was going to pass out, as they walked me around to the chapel where Cale was waiting.

The funeral director held my hand and asked if I was ready, opened the door— and there he was.

I slowly walked to him, losing my breath and sobbing at the same time.

I stood over his body and screamed. I cried and I yelled, I remember just telling him how sorry I was. Sorry for not saving him, sorry that this happened, and just begging for him to wake up. I was laying over him at this point, and when I sat up I had blood all over me and him. My nose had bled from crying so hard. I was in absolute agony.

Slowly more family and our closest friends came in. We cried, we talked to him, I played our wedding song. I held his hands. We even laughed, because he literally looked perfect. Just like himself. Handsome, even with his soul outside of his body.

This was just one of the few times I was able to see him that week. I savored every minute I had.

I decided that I wanted to be the one to dress him, and I wanted to help get him ready for his service. I sounded crazy- but to me, it felt right. For almost ten years, I helped him pick his outfits. The man had little style (sorry, babe) and he always asked what I wanted him to wear on our dates. This just felt like us.

I picked out his favorite clothes. His Calloway pullover, his lucky golf shirt, golf pants and shoes. His favorite place to be other than home, was on the green. I wanted him to be just how he loved. We put his dad’s motocross glove on his left hand, and his golf glove on his right. He had his favorite iron with him. A piece of each of our babies favorite things, and my robe that I wore the morning I tried to save him. The same one I delivered our babies in. The vows I wrote to him, along with petals from my wedding bouquet were laid under his hands. I laugh now, because we put many things with him in his casket, but they were so meaningful. Friends and family added things too at his viewing, and it was more than beautiful.

His mom and I then dressed him, and I fixed his hair. We laid him in his casket. Then we just sat and cried. He looked perfect, as he always did. He looked as if he was peacefully sleeping. This is how I will always remember him.

If I had to choose my hardest moment out of this week, it was the moment I had to say goodbye forever. I had a few minutes alone with him before we closed his casket after his viewing the next day. But it felt like only seconds. I didn’t know how I was going to say goodbye. I kissed him goodbye, I held his hand, and I prayed.

He was very close to me during these moments. I felt him, and I almost wish I could go back to this time just to feel his nearness again.