Benjamin Franklin once said, "In this world, nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes." These things are said with resignation. As humans, we must be resigned to the undeniable fact that we all are going to die and we are all going to be required to pay/file taxes. An unfun part of this time of year for me is having these two collide.
I have the task of filing taxes jointly with Patrick for the last time and having to check off a "deceased" box with death info on my 1040. Throughout this whole ordeal there have been times that bring about suffocating horror like taking his name off insurance, documents, property, etc., or stabbing pain like being stumped when filling out emergency contact information and not putting his name on the paper. Sitting here seven months from the day his heart attack turned my world upside down, the wound will be torn a bit as I go through the ordeal of taxes and realizing the finality of his death once again. It's not like it's not there in little ways daily, but a big ticket item like this certainly salts the wound. (The fact that I substituted for seven districts last year and have to enter info from ten W-2 forms doesn't help make the chore any easier).
Now, Pat never helped with taxes. It's not like in doing the deed, I'll be missing much of anything. He lurked somewhere at a safe distance while I muddled through the chore; he made himself available for occasional whining or griping. He preferred avoiding the stress and listening to how things were going from just far enough away to hear without being sucked into the ordeal. Nothing has changed - I do the taxes, I do them well. I randomly complain loudly, I'm sure the dogs will also keep their distance.
Tax time is just another hurdle to cross. I'm sure the burn and the aching reminder of "Yes, my husband is dead" will pass. Then there will be Valentine's Day, birthdays and an anniversary and such is life. A whole bunch of "first withouts" will come, be survived, and time will continue to march forward. I'm doing things - whether I really want to or not - that need to be done. There is a feeling of accomplishment that comes with every item checked off my list. Sometimes it is satisfied accomplishment; sometimes it is the "WHEW!" glad that is over sort. There are things to freak out about, but I know God's got my back and I'm shielded, covered and in the best of Hands. Regardless of what is my current situation, I'm plugging away and moving on to the next "must do." " Pat's death happened. My husband is gone. The clock ticks, the sun rises and in the words of Miyamoto Musashi "The Way of the warrior is resolute acceptance of death." And hey, the truth of the matter is that in the mundane or in the horrific, the banal tasks or the noble challenges, Romans 8:37 rings true: "In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.
"It is only through labor and painful effort, by grim energy and resolute courage, that we move on to better things," said Theodore Roosevelt. Lest I sound too heavy on the "grim" and to light on hope, God has been blessing me. Romans 12:12 says to "Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, continue steadfastly in pray." The Lord has definitely been throwing joy into my life with encouragement from friends both old and new, (thank you Anna for the card!), opportunities to talk about Him, and lately a prayer partner to help me start and end each day (thank you, thank you).
Death and taxes may be colliding in my life this month, but dancing around them are irrepressible hope and the certainty that my God's on my side.
Off Day in Bed Late
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