stolen

In 2005 we were living in the Philippines.

Todd had left with the other pilot for a 10-day long trip to fly a medical team to a remote island and back. Up until this point I had gone on most flights with them, but because of the small plane and larger medical team, I had to stay behind, alone.

They left on a Sunday, and Monday I came home at lunch from my office to find that our home had been broken into and everything in the house had been overturned. Sunday, before they left I had taken our file out of the safe with our salary for the next 3 months, our passports, and other important documents. I had meant to return it to the safe Monday morning when I went to my office, but I had forgot it. When I walked in the house, stepping over our belongings strewn around the floor, my heart sunk remembering that file sitting out on my bed. I didn't even have to go into the bedroom to know it was gone.

I went across the street and got some friends to come back to the house with me because I was afraid someone might still be in the house. As we pawed through things on the floor and found places for the strewn items, I was in disbelief that someone would do this. My purse had been left hanging over the back of a chair was lying empty on the table, the contents emptied and half missing. My Philippine driver license was there, the cash was not.

We made our way up the stairs and into our bedroom. I felt sick to my stomach to see my underwear drawer open and my dedicates in disarray. That's when the feeling of violation really hit. Everyone had gone to the next room and standing there alone, I turned around to the bed and that's when I wanted to cry for the first time. Everything was gone.

I followed my friends into the other bedrooms which were mostly empty and then wandered back into my bedroom and sat down on my bed with my head in my hands. I straightened and pushed my hands behind me to prop myself up when I felt something hard.

I had haphazardly tossed my pajamas onto the bed that morning after dressing, and there, under the discarded nightgown, was our file. It hadn't been touched.

Christmas 2004 in front of our house in the Philippines

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This morning I woke up thinking of that day. This morning I woke up again feeling robbed. Someone broke in, smashed my heart and my life, and left me to pick up the pieces.

Today we would be married 16 years.

Instead, it's the 3rd year that I've spent this day alone, no matter who I am with.

I don't really know what to do with myself on these days that are filled with "would-haves," and "should-haves," and "could-haves." Like, I cried for a while, but now what? I want to honor his memory, but I also want to stay in bed all day.

I have work I need to do, but find myself staring into the memories.

I need to write papers for school but the words coming out aren't academic.

I need to do a lot of things, but I also need to just feel and remember and cry and sit a minute.

Sixteen years ago I remember feeling like I had our whole lives ahead of us.

Today, I still have my whole life ahead of me. It's different. It's turbulent. It's like a river that's changed so much over the years that it seems like a different river, but it's still flowing.

Each day and month and year that passes takes me farther down the river. Away from that day I married my best friend. Away from the day I lost my best friend. Away.

But "away" isn't always a bad thing, even if it is a hard thing.

And as I travel the "away" path, sometimes I sit down to rest with my head in my hands a while. But every time I sit back up my hands find something hidden that I never really lost.

I still feel the love as real as ever.

I still feel my faith, as strong as ever.

I still feel mt God, as sure as ever.

Some things just can't be stolen.

June 28, 2003 in front of our friends and family