Thoughts on Loss...
Posted October 2, 2020
Julie Lee, a photographer and long-time piano teacher from Monett, penned the following thoughts after her husband Matt’s sudden death from a pulmonary embolism a year ago. Matt and Julie had been married for 25 years. They have three daughters and a grandchild, born just weeks after Matt’s passing. - Editor
Thoughts on Loss...
by Julie Lee
A year ago everything changed.
I have learned new things. I’ve learned that while grief can be easy to define - I see it as the depth to which you miss someone you love - it is incredibly complex to navigate. It is the constant that’s left when everything else seems to have fallen apart. It remains to be dealt with even as you struggle to hold a family together while trying to keep up with life that continues at its usual pace when you no longer have it in you to keep that pace. It will mercifully recede into the shadows only to suddenly flood back over you like a tsunami. It’s a thief, always threatening to steal desire, hope, motivation, and purpose. It covers your mind like a dense fog. And it also is found on the path of healing.
I’ve learned that you can receive clarity about a person after they are gone that you were blind to while they were here. I failed to see the depth of beauty in my husband, a beauty that God used to change the world around him. I knew he was kind and caring, but I failed to see just how amazingly well he loved and what a profound impact he made in others’ lives and even in my own life.
I’ve learned that our children are stronger and more resilient than I thought possible. They are my heroes.
I have learned that all those “marriage struggles” (and we had our share), all the relational pain and problems that could seem, at times, to be insurmountable - they become irrelevant when you lose your person. What remains is what was good. And, as a word of caution, that can leave you wishing you had focused more on the good, had been a better seeker of the good, because the good was always there, but could easily become concealed by the struggles. In retrospect, while those struggles were very real and so challenging at the time, they just don’t matter now.
I learned that, when you are with someone for decades, it goes beyond them being the biggest part of your world. They actually become a part of you. Saying that when I lost Matt, I lost a part of myself is technically correct, but it falls short. Part of who I am is forever changed. I am not the same person. I feel diminished, like something in my being has been amputated. So I move forward as New Me to see where the journey goes from here.
I have gained new perspective on heaven. God has invested a lot in us. He let His Son be a sacrifice for all we have done wrong, just so we can have the choice to be with Him forever. That’s a big investment. I believe that because He has put so much into the people that walk on this little planet, that the good He starts here will carry into eternity. And I believe that the love Matt and I have is one of the good things.
I have never previously believed that those we have lost are watching over us - like a guardian angel. I believe God leaves that job to the actual angels and has different work for us. I’ve always thought that being in the presence of Jesus is going to keep us far too occupied to remain concerned with activities on earth. But losing Matt has slightly altered that perspective.
This may seem out there, but I still feel Matt loving me. And I can’t even form an image of what life is like for him now, but I believe that God, in nurturing that love we have as a couple, would allow Matt to look in on me, and his children, on occasion. More than anything, I learned something in a much deeper way that I thought I had already understood: the only thing that matters in this life, in our world, is Love. I’ve had people ask me if there is something I would like to do to honor him on this day. There is and I invite you to join me: Be extra kind. Help someone. Love well. This is Matt’s legacy.
I don’t know how deep the well of missing someone can go because I haven’t found the bottom, but I know the One Who holds me in His hands. And I know that the Story He is Writing, of which my life is a small but significant part, is greater than my circumstances. So Grief and I move on as I try to continue to collect the pieces of my family’s life and work to fit them back together, though they fit differently than before. I still love my husband with every bit of my heart. So for him and for our children, and by God’s grace, I keep getting back up.
Julie Lee, a photographer and long-time piano teacher from Monett, penned the following thoughts after her husband Matt’s sudden death from a pulmonary embolism a year ago. Matt and Julie had been married for 25 years. They have three daughters and a grandchild, born just weeks after Matt’s passing. - Editor
Thoughts on Loss...
by Julie Lee
A year ago everything changed.
I have learned new things. I’ve learned that while grief can be easy to define - I see it as the depth to which you miss someone you love - it is incredibly complex to navigate. It is the constant that’s left when everything else seems to have fallen apart. It remains to be dealt with even as you struggle to hold a family together while trying to keep up with life that continues at its usual pace when you no longer have it in you to keep that pace. It will mercifully recede into the shadows only to suddenly flood back over you like a tsunami. It’s a thief, always threatening to steal desire, hope, motivation, and purpose. It covers your mind like a dense fog. And it also is found on the path of healing.
I’ve learned that you can receive clarity about a person after they are gone that you were blind to while they were here. I failed to see the depth of beauty in my husband, a beauty that God used to change the world around him. I knew he was kind and caring, but I failed to see just how amazingly well he loved and what a profound impact he made in others’ lives and even in my own life.
I’ve learned that our children are stronger and more resilient than I thought possible. They are my heroes.
I have learned that all those “marriage struggles” (and we had our share), all the relational pain and problems that could seem, at times, to be insurmountable - they become irrelevant when you lose your person. What remains is what was good. And, as a word of caution, that can leave you wishing you had focused more on the good, had been a better seeker of the good, because the good was always there, but could easily become concealed by the struggles. In retrospect, while those struggles were very real and so challenging at the time, they just don’t matter now.
I learned that, when you are with someone for decades, it goes beyond them being the biggest part of your world. They actually become a part of you. Saying that when I lost Matt, I lost a part of myself is technically correct, but it falls short. Part of who I am is forever changed. I am not the same person. I feel diminished, like something in my being has been amputated. So I move forward as New Me to see where the journey goes from here.
I have gained new perspective on heaven. God has invested a lot in us. He let His Son be a sacrifice for all we have done wrong, just so we can have the choice to be with Him forever. That’s a big investment. I believe that because He has put so much into the people that walk on this little planet, that the good He starts here will carry into eternity. And I believe that the love Matt and I have is one of the good things.
I have never previously believed that those we have lost are watching over us - like a guardian angel. I believe God leaves that job to the actual angels and has different work for us. I’ve always thought that being in the presence of Jesus is going to keep us far too occupied to remain concerned with activities on earth. But losing Matt has slightly altered that perspective.
This may seem out there, but I still feel Matt loving me. And I can’t even form an image of what life is like for him now, but I believe that God, in nurturing that love we have as a couple, would allow Matt to look in on me, and his children, on occasion. More than anything, I learned something in a much deeper way that I thought I had already understood: the only thing that matters in this life, in our world, is Love. I’ve had people ask me if there is something I would like to do to honor him on this day. There is and I invite you to join me: Be extra kind. Help someone. Love well. This is Matt’s legacy.
I don’t know how deep the well of missing someone can go because I haven’t found the bottom, but I know the One Who holds me in His hands. And I know that the Story He is Writing, of which my life is a small but significant part, is greater than my circumstances. So Grief and I move on as I try to continue to collect the pieces of my family’s life and work to fit them back together, though they fit differently than before. I still love my husband with every bit of my heart. So for him and for our children, and by God’s grace, I keep getting back up.
Above, Julie and Matt Lee in a 2009 photo.
Above, Matt Lee, in a photo taken a year before his sudden death at age 54, from a suspected pulmonary embolism.