Peace like a river. Are rivers peaceful?







When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul


Honestly I think it depends on the river. Not all rivers are peaceful. When I was 15 the river in my town flooded worse than it had in 100 years. Businesses and houses were completely underwater. They cancelled school so all the high schoolers could go help fill sand bags. That river was raging, there was nothing peaceful about it. Everyone was scared and frightened. Your heart raced when you looked at it because you didn't know how bad it was going to get.  I have been to that same river on nice summer days, it looks so calm you think you could swim across it, Dan even tried once. I've stood on the banks and fed the ducks while the water gently lapped at my toes. It was a peaceful river.

I was in Therapy the other day, (yup I still go to therapy, I also still have a dead husband) We were talking about the night Dan died, basically it was total chaos. It was fast and rushing, my heart was racing. It was a raging river. We talked about how I have a lack of peace around Dan's death.

I remember my dad telling me the story of when his mom died, she was gravely ill and the whole family was around her in the hospital room and she just quietly slipped away. He said it was one of the most peaceful moments he had ever experienced. I remember when my grandpa died five years ago. My dad and I got to grandpa's house before they came to take him away. My aunt was already there. They let us go into the bedroom and see him. My aunt climbed up into the bed with him, held his hand and laid her head next to his. We were sad, we were crying, but there was peace in the room.

I hear lots of stories of how people sit and hold their loved ones hand after they have died and they find peace in it. I have heard of people giving their loved one a kiss after they have died and they find peace in that. Which is what I was talking about with my therapist. Dan died, and the paramedics asked me if I wanted to see him. I couldn't do it, I literally couldn't move, shock, scared, frightened, all of the above, I couldn't go see him, I couldn't go look at his dead body. I didn't sit and hold his hand, I didn't kiss his forehead. I just didn't move.

I had another opportunity, the day before his funeral when we had a viewing just for the family. I remember they opened the room where he was laying in his coffin and I turned and fell into my dad crying, I said something like I don't want to do this. My dad held me and other family were beside me and I was sort of half pushed half stumbling into the room.  I think I was crying hysterically by then. I looked at him in his coffin, but that was as close as I could get, I didn't touch him. My eyes were so blurred with tears I had to ask my sister in law if everything looked right on him, I couldn't tell, I couldn't think. I found no peace there, just raging river.

The next day before the funeral started there was a viewing for the public.  It is estimated 400 people came to his funeral. They were spilling out the sanctuary and down the halls and almost out the doors. I was given one last chance to see him before they closed the casket. This was also the only chance for Baby Girl to see her daddy ever again. I explained this to her and she decided she wanted to see him. So we went into the sanctuary where he was, I carried her, I think she forgot how to walk. I had to push through hundreds of people, they tried to move but there was no where for them to go. We made it to the coffin and Baby Girl waved goodbye to her daddy while hundreds and hundreds of eyes watched us. There was no peace, there was no quite time alone with him. There was no just the three of us ever again.

When Dan died there was no peace. It wasn't the peaceful river in the song, it was not well with my soul despite the sorrow and it never will be. Dan was possibly the most peaceful man I ever knew. He had this way about him where just being in his presence could put you at peace. He was known for calming people down. Yet his death was like a raging river.  The last moments I spent with my husband we were in a wild raging river, not the peaceful river we were so used to.

We call that trauma and PTSD, I don't recommend it.


I wrote a book about my grief, you can read it here: Carry on Castle




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