Battle-Axe

The worst part about tragedy is that you don't want a single soul to know your story, but at the exact moment, you actually want every single soul to know your story.

There are times when I am out in public and I desperately want to write on my forehead, "My husband is dead," or "I am a widow," or "I am a single mom." For whatever reason in my mind it just might make it easier to face people, and selfishly, it would give me permission to just look sad. But then the conflict sets in and I also don't want to inflict my pain on complete strangers, or on anyone for that matter. I guess I just don't want anyone to feel sorry for me. I am so sick of people feeling sorry for me. See my dilemma?

A few weeks ago I flew out to Denver for my 30th Birthday. The airport is one of my favorite places in the world. Why? Because it means I get to go somewhere new, and it always meant I was going on a new adventure with Riley. We loved traveling and adventure. This time was different, this time I was all alone. I was supposed to be catching a flight to Anaheim, CA that same morning because Riley had surprised me with a trip to the ocean for my birthday. But instead of boarding a plane with my husband for a romantic getaway, I was about to wait for my flight at a separate gate departing to Denver, CO... as a widow.

As I walked into the airport, the weight of all of this paralyzed my brain. I was frozen. But I am a mentally tough person, I'm strong. I have convinced my mind to do the craziest things, like run 26.2 miles, or go on dangerous life-threatening hikes. I can do anything I set my mind to and I've always believed that to my core. But I sincerely think this was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I gave myself the biggest pep talk to date. I told myself, "Don't look weak. Don't look sad. Don't smile. Don't make eye contact, but don't look mean. Don't look down. Keep your head up, and for the love of God Katlyn, don't you dare talk to anyone."

How on earth can I do any of these things? I make friends in line at the grocery store. I strike up conversations with the man pumping gas next to me. I compliment the women at the post office. I am an extrovert to a fault. I am a relational being. How could I possibly make it through TSA, get a cup of coffee, sit at my gate, board my flight, sit next to TWO humans on an airplane, and NOT talk to anyone? How?

I didn't. I remarkably did not say more than two sentences from the time I entered the Des Moines Airport until my flight touched down in Denver and I plopped in the front seat of my brother's car. Anyone who is reading this and truly knows me understands how completely out of character this was for me. But I knew I was incapable of the consequences that came with any conversation that day. Because a friendly hello leads to small talk, and small talk inevitably leads to talking about each other's lives, and well, my life is shattered so who in the world wants to talk about that? And in what world do I have the emotional energy or capacity to even say out loud how horrific my life is right now? Most days I don't, and that day I absolutely did not. I did not have an ounce of social interaction to give.

I remember sighing in relief when I finally boarded the plane and sat down. I had successfully not talked to anyone (besides the women at the coffee shop) and made it to the easy part. I just had to sit back and enjoy a quiet flight. I got situated and reached for my headphones, when all of a sudden the woman sitting next to me says, "Wow, your ring is stunning, I just love it! Your husband got you a rock!" At that moment my heart leaped out of my chest and was beating on the floor. She might as well have stepped on it too. All of the feelings in my feet and legs gave way. I looked down at my wedding ring that is still on my left ring finger. I stared at it in disbelief. This ring is a lie. I’m not married. My husband is dead. My mind began to race, and I began to sweat. A huge lump in my belly started to well up and it almost turned into tears. "Get it together, Katlyn, you're in public," I said to myself. "No one here would have a clue why you're crying. Stop." So I sucked it up. Literally, I took a huge breath to stop the tears, looked over and confidently said with a great big smile, "Thank you!" I should have won an Oscar. The conversation was over. Thank God.

My mind started racing again, I felt hot, I got lightheaded, and I wanted to cry or puke or punch something. It was hard. I looked down at my ring again. It’s a lie. Do I take it off? No, I can’t just take my wedding ring off in the middle of an airplane! Why would I take it off? I love this ring. I can’t imagine ever taking it off. Not ever. At that point, I froze and realized how enormously complicated and bizarre all of this was. I was literally processing my trauma and grief as the flight attendant gave instructions to buckle my seat belt. There was no escaping it. So I quietly buckled up and settled in for a long flight with just me and my broken heart on the floor.

I quietly pretended to be the most confident person on the plane, and I'll bet some people bought it, even the woman sitting beside me. What a lie. I was hiding behind a devastating story and living in the center of grief and heartache. I guess I do it every day. Perfectly put together on the outside, but completely shattered and broken on the inside. While I was enduring this incredibly difficult moment, I asked myself, "What would Riley do in this situation?" I then remembered a conversation we had after one of his night shifts in the Emergency Department.

I must preface that talking about death never scared Riley. He worked as an ER trauma nurse for years, so truthfully death was a common topic of conversation in our home. We were talking about what would happen someday when one of us died. He confidently told me he knew I would be fine without him because I am a "battle axe." He used this word to describe me often, not in the negative connotations that often come with this term, just as a way to describe my toughness. And although I did not agree, he assured me I could definitely live this life without him. He then swore to me that he, on the other hand, would be a puddle on the floor, paralyzed and unable to move on without me. As I reflected on that conversation, my eyes filled with tears. Simultaneously I laughed to myself while shaking my head and thought again, "What would Riley do in this situation? Well, he probably would have never even made it to the airport."

Although hilarious and heartbreaking all at once, I was instantly comforted. I was exactly where I needed to be. Riley would want me to live a big, full, beautiful life. He would want Khloe and me to catch the flight, book the trip, and hike the mountain. He would want me to seek adventure because that's what he loved. He would have been insanely proud of me for going on that trip by myself. Riley not only would want me to be strong in that situation, he actually believed I could, he said so himself. So as I watched the plane take off, my heart leaped off the floor and back into my chest as I heard a pep talk from Riley, "You are strong Kate. You're a battle axe, remember?"

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I might be a battle axe, but I would be nothing without my armor. This post is not to brag about my toughness, or to tell the world how strong I am. It's a platform to explain to the masses that the strength that I have is not mine. It comes from a mighty, mighty God who has graciously dressed me in an armor of resilience. Riley believed in this armor too, and he wore it every day.

Ephesians 6:14-17

Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.