For a few very hard years this word was my mantra.
The word means
-undismayed; not discouraged; not forced to abandon purpose or effort
-undiminished in courage or valor; not giving way to fear
But the truth is, I was often dismayed by everything that had taken place, and I did battle discouragement. I battled fear and doubts. I hurt and was angry, and sometimes "undaunted" sounded more like a mockery than a mantra, and I was determined to be real about all of it in these posts, thus the name, Undaunted Reality. More than that, though, I was determined to live undaunted, not because I'm so great or strong, but because my God is, and no matter what this world looks like, He is the only reality that matters.
I pray I live the reality of Him beautifully undaunted.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Today, I Really Miss You

Dear Rob,

I miss you.

Tomorrow is Robert's birthday, and he's nervous. He's afraid your not being here is going to make him sad. He's right. And I'll do the best I can to walk with him through the pain and anger because he doesn't understand. What he doesn't realize is even if he did understand, it wouldn't help.

I understand a lot about us, about the separation, about your dying, and I've still spent the day in tears and angry.

Last night I rolled over and reached to your side of the bed to feel where you were so I could scootch up to you. I still miss the feel of you, the smell of you. I miss how I wrapped my arm around you and you would wrap your hand around mine and hold it to your chest.

Pretty silly, huh? I mean, it's not like you'd be here anyway.

Still, I miss you.

It's March Madness, and I printed out the brackets, but I haven't watched a game. It's not quite the same when I don't have someone screaming, "Did you see that?" with me. I miss your arms flying up in the air and your yelling, "OH MY GOSH!" when that last second bucket hits and overtime is either created or avoided. Your whole face lit up. I have never known anyone who could get so excited about teams they cared nothing about.

Flowers are coming up in the front flowerbed. I keep looking at the zinnia bed. I need to work on it, but I can't even make myself walk over there. In fact, the very idea of working in the yard at all exhausts me.

The kids and I do clay and paint a lot. Never was big on the clay, but even less so now. I really miss playing games, but that is something the children strongly associate with you, and  they aren't ready. I understand, so I either pinch a piece of clay and just chat with them or I read. Of course, they miss your reading to them. Me, too. I liked your voice. Your reading was always so soothing, especially when you read Winnie the Pooh. :-)

Robert decided he doesn't want streamers and balloons for decorations this year. Honestly, I'm sort of glad. You always did such a good job with the decorations. I would have done them, but it would have been so hard. Sort of like when Meg Ryan is talking to Maverick, and she says, "Goose would have flown without you. He would have hated it, but he would have done it." I would have hated it, but I would have done it.

And, yes, I know. It's not like you would be here. Not like you would be with me.  But there are things we really got right. The children and letting them know they are special and important and amazing...we definitely did well there. We certainly knew how to celebrate them, didn't we?

You were a wonderful dad.

You were a wonderful man in a kazillion ways...and today, I really miss you.


  1. Jerri,
    I am so glad you wrote this. Sometimes, if the words seem there, it is good to express it on paper (or computer). It is restorative in a way. It is good that you are remembering the good in him before the children and that you're not trying to "be Rob" to them. Their loss is profound and I think you're a pretty great mom, just being you is enough for them. God's grace will cover the rest. I love you and I am praying for you, Anna and Robert. Daniel still has the candle you made for him from Fiddler on the Roof. I see it regularly and so I think of you often. Wish I could hug you! Love you, Rachel Sutton

  2. Oh,Jerri, Even though he wouldn't have been WITH you if he hadn't died, you were not adjusted to physically losing a life partner simply by his moving out and wanting a divorce. That is something to grieve greatly for and in many ways, it was like a death itself. Then when you had just been with him and the visit was upbeat only to hear that he died shortly after that, that was like another death. You are entitled to grieve all you want to. God gave us tears for a reason. They are like a pressure valve that keep us from just exploding and they are so precious to Him that He keeps them in a bottle. Please know that you are being covered in prayer and love by so many who love you. You are walking through the fire, sweetie, and believe me, I have walked that path. It is HARD. It is HEARTBREAKING. But He is ENOUGH! Special prayers going up for you, my dear friend. We haven't been friends that long but God sends people into each others' lives when He chooses. I truly do understand what you are going through. There are no words but prayer and great love were the most helpful to me. God bless you, Jerri!
    Karen King

  3. Beautiful. I'm not sure if he fully realized it, but Rob was very fortunate to have such a great wife and mother to his children. I admire how, even through the pain, your love for him is obvious.

    The way you describe him cheering for teams reminds me of my dad. He also says "Did you see that?!" All the time. In fact, when our extended family gets together for the Rose Bowl, we call it WRWF (Watch Ron Watch Football).

    I know, this is about Rob, not my dad...but you reminded me of that.

    I love you, my sister, and I'm praying for you.

  4. I love you Sissy. I can't say the pain will go away, but I hope it eases some for you in the future.

  5. Rachel, thank you...beyond words...:-)

    Karen, thank you for your loving support. Big hugs backatcha.

    Steven, thank you for sharing about your dad. Thank you for being a great brother. Big kiss.

    Anonymous, I don't know if the pain will ever go away. Dad has been gone 9 years nearly, and I miss him horribly sometimes. Thankfully, I don't feel like my chest is caving in everyday anymore, but some days are very emotional. I think there will be days in the future like wedding days when he will be prominent in our thoughts. He's their dad, and I think that is how it should be. :-) But, yes, days are easier. Thank you.