Loss.

Yesterday I shared about the devo I encountered that convicted me to lean into hardships and find ways to become more Christlike through them. I wasn't free to share more details of our hardship at that time, but today I am, so I wanted to catch you up.

Ryan and I had just gone to bed Monday evening...early Tuesday morning, actually. We were in that state of falling asleep where our eyes were too heavy to stay open, but sleep hadn't fully claimed us yet. A buzzing startled us and we sat up to see Ryan's phone lighting up. 

It was his brother. Middle-of-the-night phone calls never bring good news, do they?

Ryan answered and I knew from his end that it wasn't good, but I didn't know who it involved. My mind raced through all the aging family members. It bounced from name to name, and before I could land on an answer the call ended. Ryan turned to me, wide-eyed, and I squeaked out my one-word question: who?

"It's Allen."

Allen wasn't on my list. Allen, Ryan's step-dad. Allen, Nita's husband. Allen who kayaked with us last summer. Allen who just talked to Ryan on the phone last week. 

It couldn't be Allen. He was in good health. 

But it was Allen.

He was gone without warning. We sat in bed and stared blankly at the wall ahead of us as our bodies began to shake with shock. 

We crawled out of the bed we'd just crawled into and paced through the apartment, gasping for breath and gasping with grief.

Who do you call at one in the morning? You need people but there aren't any. Not in that hour.

I called my parents. Ryan called his uncle. Their speechlessness matched ours. We had no words, reasons, explanations, details, or anything else. Just a shocking loss. 

For all of the many months of illness and hospice and say-all-you-need-to-say conversations and pictures that we had with Nita prior to her death, we had only what-ifs and when-did-I's and if onlys to consider throughout that long, sleepless night.

We sat on the couch, hand in hand, reading Scripture, crying, praying, and dozing now and then. 

Allen was a pretty private person, especially when it came to the world of the internet. He didn't like too much being said about Nita when she was sick, and he was deeply reluctant to share too much of his own life online. For that reason, I'll respect his privacy here and not share details that I sense he would have preferred we hold close. 

But I will share that we are deep in grief. It's a whole different road than the one we walked with Nita. Not only in the surprise, but in sorting through details from a distance, and so much more. 

Our hearts are broken. We're broken for our own loss, and we're broken for Ryan's two sisters, Allen's daughters. Both of them lost their mothers and now their father all in two years. 

But we grieve while bathed in the hope of Heaven. Allen missed Nita so profoundly, and now they get to be together in the Lord's presence. We celebrate that even while we mourn and grieve.

Thank you for your gentleness with us as we navigate this unfamiliar territory. I will do my best to have my thoughts collected when I come to you each day, but I may be scattered. 

And if I could be so bold...would you pray for my Ryan? Yes, Allen was his step-father. Yes, his father is still living. I always make sure to draw those label distinctions in print out of respect for his father who is a kind and wonderful man who is part of Ryan's life and is so good to him. But Allen was part of Ryan's life from a very young age, and that whole "step" thing is not a label that family uses. Allen considered Ryan his son as much as if he'd been his own flesh and blood. The grief of this loss is profound for Ryan. It's not a step-loss. It's a father-loss. 

Ryan is bold and brave and strong for his sisters, but his heart hurts as much as theirs. Pray for him - for us - as we walk this road?

Thank you, friends.

(This is the last photo I have of the two of them together. From a photo-composition standpoint, it's terrible. Captured completely on the fly. But from a memory-standpoint, it's priceless, and I treasure it.)

We miss you, Allen. Thank you for welcoming both of us as your own. May you be generously welcomed Home to Heaven, your Savior, and your dear Nita.