Unfinished business and new beginnings in Africa

2009; Gareth’s photo of Grace-Faith in her home.

So I did it! I went to Africa by myself and had an amazing time in so many different ways. I spent most of my time with mine and Ga’s mutual friend Sam and his family, living in Namatala slum, in their house not too far from where Ga lived when he was there. I did the touristy stuff, visiting local beauty spots as well as being part of the community for a short time. I walked the bumpy mud roads like Ga did, rode on ‘bodabodas’ (the local motorbike taxi service) and got used to being called ‘Mzungu! (white person) and waving at excited children as I went past. I washed with a bowl of water and cup, and got apt at squatting to go to the loo (a hole in the ground). Just like he did.

One day Sam took me back to the places where Ga had taken his striking photos back in 2009. To outside a rice factory, where women spent 8 hours a day sifting through the discarded chaff, extracting rice grains in which to feed their families and maybe make a little money. It is back-breaking work, bending repeatedly in the formidible heat of the sun. I showed the women there my photos of Ga’s Namatala photos and of him and they stopped working and got animated. ‘We know this white man! He spent many days with us!’ some exclaimed. Sam explained I was his wife, and they asked me if he was well. So I had to break the news and they were shocked and saddened, but soon continued sharing their memories of him with us. There was one particular lady Ga photographed who wasn’t there, but we were given directions to her house, and later on after walking through the depths of Namatala slum, found her. When she saw Ga’s photo she immediately said ‘My friend, he spent many days here looking after me.’ I discovered her name is Grace-Faith and she has HIV. She wasn’t collecting rice that day as she wasn’t well. She showed me the medicines she takes daily. We talked for a time, and I was able to give her copies of the photos Ga took of her, and she choose a photo of Ga to keep. Sam took a photo of us both on her bed (her daughter was sick, lying on another bed to the right of this photo). Before we left I was able to pray with her.

2014; Me with Faith-Grace (who is holding a photograph of Gareth)

I cannot explain with words what a profoundly, powerful and healing time this was. In some way I felt like I’d come full circle; returning to the place Ga had told me so much about. Turning 2D descriptions into my very own 3D experiences. Returning images Ga created into the hands of those within them. Creating new images from old.

I’d expected torrents of tears during my time away but actually there were very few. I cried far more in Prague. Whatever was happening was on a deeper level than tears. Things were being stirred and healing occurring in the very depths of my soul. Such beautiful peace washed over me as I tied up these loose ends of unfinished business I had with Africa.

I met with Jesus and God’s Holy Spirit in a very wonderful way too. For the past 8 months or so since the first anniversary of Ga’s death I’ve been quite frustrated and angry with grief. Sick of having to deal with it and the tears so have mostly not chosen to spend time alone with God, as inevitably when I did, tears would inevitable fall. It was easier to not go there, even though I knew hanging out with God is always a beneficial thing (as to be honest tears fell enough times when I had no control over them). I’m thankful in his mercy he never let’s go of me, even when I’m struggling to hold on to him. But I had kind of made a deal, that when in Africa, and I had chance to relax I would be open to more grief work with him. There was a relaxing cafe I went to every other day where I spent time reading a Christian book on grief and inner healing, being open to the tears resurfacing and the pain of Ga’s absence to be prominent. But suprisingly what I found was that the tears didn’t come and I wasn’t doubled up in heartache. That beautiful peace the bible describes, that is available despite my circumstances flowed through me. I was sad but so joyful at the same time. Being in the continent that Ga loved, and it turns out was inextricably part of our marriage brought me healing at the deepest level…more than I was expecting.

Alongside this grief work, and the fact I went to Africa because of Ga, I was also beginning to create my own adventure, independantly of Gareth. Spending time with Sam’s family (who Ga had never met) was fun and although Ga was remembered, he did not dominate our time together. For we were in the present, in the rhythms of 2014 creating new experiences from opportunities given to us. And that is a good thing I feel.

Also, this year I have been rediscovering who I am without Ga. What are my interests and passions that are linked only to me and my character now? Ga has definately left me with a sense of adventure, but the way I seek adventure is not the same way he did. So I’d booked myself on to a 2 day White-water rafting trip down the River Nile; something just for me. It was one of the best things I’ve ever done…I revelled in the beauty of the water and nature around me, the sensations of the raging waters I got tossed around in (voluntarily!) as well as the calm still waters I gently floated down. It felt good to have adrenaline surging through my veins because of something fun rather than life and death scary. It sounds awful (but it isn’t) to say but I revelled in the fact I wasn’t missing Ga during it; for this was not something we’d ever done together, and therefore his absence was not as noticable. This was all about me. And that was profoundly healing too.

I want to finish by sharing with you  something beautiful that happened on my way home to the airport. Something I had not consciously planned or prepared for so am convinced it is of God. As me, Sam and his family were enjoying our last few hours together by Lake Victoria I felt a sudden prompting to be alone. So I walked a distance away, and sensed the Holy Spirit tell me now was the time to let go of what I’d been holding onto. I didn’t know what that was, but just as suddenly I realised in part, that although I’ve let go of Gareth my husband and trusted him into the competent care of Jesus, part of my frustrations of most of this year has been that I don’t want to be grieving, but I haven’t been able to let go of the dreams and future plans me and Ga had together in our marriage. Plans that included travel to Africa. I didn’t even know this was the case until this moment in Lake Victoria. But I felt safe enough to agree, and as the sun set on my final night in Africa, I willingly and symbolically handed those dreams and plans that will never come to pass now, back into Jesus’ care. They are safe there. Jesus says we can give our burdens to him. And carrying these around with me has been a heavy burden I’ve been carrying. As I went back to Sam and his family, and we got back in the car to drive to the airport, I felt like I was leaving, Ga, our marriage and our joint dreams and plans with Jesus in Africa. It felt good. It felt right. It felt ok. And since then I’ve been experiencing immense peace and joy. I was smiling all the way home on the plane!

And when I arrived back home in Cardiff, the absence of Ga was not the most prominent thing; the presence of myself in my present was. And that’s a significant shifting. I’ll stop here. Obviously there is no end point in grief and Gareth will remain part of me forever but I do feel something massive has happened in Africa and I’m now entering into a new phase on this grief journey.

And now it’s time to get back to mine and Ga’s story, as I’ve neglected it in recent months. For I have a deadline to finish it that is fast approaching…and one thing that remains the same with me is that I like to keep to deadlines!

No escape from the G-word

At the beginning of my week’s annual leave I was hopeful and expectant that it would be a relatively light hearted one (after the slog of Christmas), especially as it was filled with nice things such as going walking and spending a night in a B and B with my mum, catching up with friends and going to London for 4 days. But there is no escape for a widow from her grief. Even the act of enjoying the things mentioned above then naturally catapults you to the memories of when holidays were filled doing those things with Gareth, and physically aching in the desire to want to be doing them again with him right now. It is so wearisome. So draining. So ongoing, so all consuming at times. One morning I met a friend for coffee in the cafe where Ga had previously had a successful exhibition. Forgetting it was a weekday morning and hence full of yummy mummies feeding their newborns and sharing stories of parenthood with their fellow NCT friends (I counted 6 babies under 3 months within a 3 metre radius of me).  Looking in from the outside, and a sudden burst of green-eyed jealousy and longing came over me. I want to be in that club. I want to be able to join in with the baby and maternity leave talk whilst Ga earns our living taking photos. And what am I doing once I leave the cafe? Driving to the natural beauty spot where I last left my Ga, and standing 6 foot over his lifeless body, placing flowers on the grass, as it’s the nearest I can get to him. Sometimes I find this place comforting. Not today though. Despite the sunshine it galls me that I have to find comfort in the fact my husband is buried in a beautiful place. It galls me that I am comforted knowing I am physically close to him at this place. As my tears flow it galls me that really there is no comfort here, for no matter where I am in the world, it makes no difference really as I can’t have a conversation with him, or make plans with him, or laugh with him, or hug him or kiss him. Death, I hate you.

There really is no escape for me from grief, no matter how much I want some time out from it.

I think I have been trying quite hard to even up the balance of sadness and hard times by filling as much of my time as possible with fun, positive, feel good things to do (It’s helped but the scales still aren’t even). The wise writer of Ecclesiastes 3 states ‘For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter…a time to weep and a time to laugh….a time to mourn and a time to dance…’ If Ga could see me now I think he’d be pleasantly surprised at the higher priority I now give to relaxing and doing fun stuff (although he’d be gutted he wasn’t here to reap the benefit of it). There’s a little part of me that feels a bit guilty, a bit over indulgent in being so nice to myself but hey, there’s a time for everything right…and if it’s not now for seeking pleasure above pain then when is? For the pain of widowhood is chronically excruciating. I think it’s healthy to pepper that with sprinkles of happiness wherever I can (within reason of course…I may be suffering but that doesn’t give me the right to trample over other people’s needs and desires just to get mine met)

However one area that has changed as I’ve sought pleasure over pain has been my personal relationship with Jesus. He’s been my closest friend since I first welcomed him into my heart as a teenager, and over the years, through experience I’ve learnt how great it is to spend time together on our own every day, talking to each other; me with my words, him through the Bible and the Holy Spirit (who took residence in my soul since the day I invited him in). Sometimes it’s been my favourite part of my day, others a bit of a slog, and others I’ve pushed that precious time out completely due to my own business (and isn’t that the way with all relationships?). When Gareth was sick, we had time together every morning as I ate my breakfast, and those times left me strengthened and assured knowing whatever the day would bring, Jesus was with me, by my side through it all, and with him alongside me I was able to face whatever was coming. In that ITU room you may have only seen one wife sitting by her husband’s bedside. In reality there were three of us. I could not have coped as well as I did with the past year without His strength, love and support. Those daily times have continued, with my bible reading becoming focused around passages related to grief, mourning and life after physical death.

But since about November, I’ve got out of the habit of taking time every day to meet with my Lord. It’s not been a conscious thing, just gradually I’ve stopped fitting it in during my day. I’m not suddenly angry with God, or not wanting to communicate with him (I still do talk with him informally as I’m going about my day, and am hungry for fellowship and to meet with him at church and house group). It’s not like I don’t know how beneficial it would be to spend time with him on a regular basis, but somewhere along the line I had enough. I think it’s because for so long now, whenever I have sat and met with him one-to-one, all I’ve been able to offer him are my tears. As he’s the one I’m most honest with, he gets it all, the bawling, the wracking sobs, the slow quiet tears tricking down my cheeks without me realizing they’ve spilled. And I think I reached a point where I was tired of always crying in that place, despite the peace that would often follow.  So I stopped the daily meetings. And didn’t really notice as I sought to fill my days with nice stuff that keeps the tears at bay a bit more.

And in stark contrast to my inability to escape from my grief, my God has not escaped me. The psalmist who wrote Psalm 139 questions ‘Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?’ and answers with ‘Even if I dwell in the innermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.’ I have been too emotionally, spiritually and physically fatigued to keep my tight grip on my sweet Lord, but I don’t need to stay strong for He is strong enough for the both of us and never, ever lets go of his tight grip of love and compassion on me. My brain is mostly too fuzzy for longwinded prayers right now, but I know so many of you continue to pray for me and He hears those prayers and continues to hold me secure in his arms.

I want to finish this post by sharing with you how I’ve been encouraged these last few days in London. Months ago me and a friend booked to attend a 4 day event at Soul Survivor UK, called ‘Naturally Supernatural.’ It was a time to learn more about and interact with the Holy Spirit of the Bible. Soul Survivor impressed me years back with their acknowledgment of the authority of God over the words of the Bible, intellectual, sensible and compassionate discussion and teaching of said words, and their willingness to give the Holy Spirit freedom to move as he wants to. When Gareth died I knew that I wanted to meet with the Holy Spirit on a whole new level throughout this grieving process, so in the summer attended ‘Momentum‘ and then ‘Naturally Supernatural’ last week. It’s always awesome to worship Jesus with so many others. It’s become even more awesome to sing of how Jesus knows what it is to suffer and die at an early age, like my Ga did, but to know he did it willingly, purposefully so that 2000ish years later I can sing joyfully in the midst of my grief that Jesus didn’t stay dead, but came back to life and is living in heaven now, and because of that horrific death on a cross so long ago, Ga’s death is not so horrific for whilst his body remains in that natural field, his spirit and soul is dancing freely with his friend Jesus. And last week, as in the summer, there were times when the Holy Spirit interacted with me in such very sweet, wonderful ways, such as God kindly giving complete strangers who were praying for me such specific pictures and words that have been incredibly detailed about aspects of my life at those times; they were like a little nudge from him ‘I know Clare. I haven’t forgotten. I see your pain. I remember. I want you to know I know the littlest details in your life. I love you.’ I know this is an honest account of my widowhood journey, but those little love notes from God are just between me and him ,they are too personal to share here. But it excites me. The God of the whole entire universe, who knows everything there is to know and to who nothing is impossible is concerned about little me and my circumstances. And cares enough to let me know it in such a personal way.

That knowledge has fortified me and spurs me on as I move ever closer to the first anniversary. As I finish this I am remembering that a year ago tonight was our last night together at home, spent packing (me organising his medicines) and getting ready for him to fly to Liberia the next day. A whole year. And after tomorrow I can no longer look back on ‘this time last year’ and say life was as we knew it. The beginning of the end is fast approaching…

Fast forward to now

So that’s the very beginning. Fast forward seven years, one proposal,  one wedding,  Art Foundation diploma,  Documentary Photography degree, teaching qualification, dog, operation, three houses, three churches, numerous hospital admissions, increasing daily medical supplies,  foreign holidays, awards, exhibitions, adventurous DIY projects, several jobs in the NHS and Africa, a well used Ebay account, no children and one funeral later… here I am. Writing this three months exactly since I lost my wonderful Ga as he died, whilst I hope he gained the riches and awesomeness of heaven in God’s direct presence. How am I? A question I get asked a lot now but it is too big a question to answer succinctly in a single sentence. I write this now feeling ‘loved up’ and warm and fuzzy, remembering those lovely early days getting to know Ga, and him me and am just so incredibly thankful for the experience I had of loving him, and him loving me… abundantly. I don’t mean to sound big headed, but he adored me (so many people have told me this recently!) and it’s pretty amazing to be on the receiving end of such big love. Ok now, my eyes are welling up. That’s nothing new though. The world is made up of opposites and pairs, and the natural pairing for having loved so deeply is to grieve deeply and know excruciating pain when the object of your love is gone. Tears have been a familiar friend since 21st March 2013. Sometimes the depth of sadness and pain inside my heart and soul is too great to put into words and all I can do is utilise God’s design for release and let the hot burning, or slow trickling tears flow. Embrace them, acknowledge they signify the great person and life that I have lost, give them to God, let him embrace me and let his Holy Spirit comfort me as the intense ache passes.

It may sound strange to say but I haven’t lost the greatest love of my life… that is Jesus Christ, whose love for me is even bigger than Ga’s was. I’ve lost the second greatest love (which is high up there!) and I am spurred on in the hope that my two greatest loves are together, alive and well right now. There were three of us in our marriage… me, Ga and God. Now it is just me and God again. Not my choice. But I trust God knows what he’s doing and know ultimately I will be okay through all of this as I walk with my God and without my Ga. Also I have been overwhelmed by the love and support shown to me since Gareth became sick in Liberia (all gestures, little and big). That love, support and lifted prayers are also priceless to me, and has helped and will help me walk this sad and lonely road a little easier. Thank you for it (you know who you are) and please stick with me as although it doesn’t always feel like it to me ‘I’m very early days’ in this journey of widowhood.