Redemption

We threw axes and built a target. This is really what specific detail I remember from the 72 hours of haze after the news of Conley's Dad's (T) death. Before Conley had come home, we decided that we should purchase throwing axes and knives...something I had never really thought I would enjoy, but knew intrinsically, this is what my BOYS needed. Rob and Conley built this huge target all that Saturday and we threw axes. I know that our people were around and we felt loved, but if you've ever experienced trauma you can relate to the blur. Our pupils were dilated leading to tunnel vision. Our heart rate and breath rate elevated, and at any given moment it felt like the whole world would be able to see through our blank stare.

Wednesday came and for some grasp at normalcy, I started my day with the rest of my staff at our "kick off the year" meeting. I dreaded what the afternoon was going to bring, but thought I could distract myself from the pain. WRONG. Ironically, the first colleague that I saw, joyfully asked, "How's Conley?" I know I gave him the "Are you F'ing kidding me right now" stare, and said something like..."Oh, you know..." and then I sprint-walked to my office and closed the door. Cry. 10 minutes till I have to face everyone. What was I thinking, coming to work today?!

Here's a little back story to fully grasp the complexity of the following two days. Since I had divorced T, I had been "that woman". The one who left and betrayed his family and the whole cowboy community. Rob had also had his name slandered and disrespected. We had no idea how we were going to face T's family, friends, and still allow Conley to participate in the viewing and funeral. I could only hold true to two things. One, I am not the same person I was at 27. Two, I only need to be there for Conley's emotional and physical safety. By this point, questions were being raised: Was this intentional? Who shot him? Was the clot an ill-timed physical ailment or directly related to the wound? I, like many people, had some strong assumptions and at all costs was not going to allow any interaction between T's "live-in" (E) and Conley. He had endured enough trauma at her hands.

My first glimpse at the grace and redemption of God through this event was when I called Conley's Grandma. As we progress through our conversation, "I recognize that the funeral is for your family. I think Conley should be present. Do you want me to stay away and let our Pastor and Rob accompany him?" I waited...this grieving mother, who I once loved could tell me many answers. She said, "Of course you can come." Holy Crap! Not what I expected.

As Conley and I are driving to Hardin that Wednesday to see T's body and say our "good-byes", Conley is jamming to music. I can't imagine how he's going to react, what he must be feeling or thinking, and I'm not sure he completely understands the gravity that the next two days will bring. I too, can not believe I have to do this. How do I attend and grieve my ex-husband's viewing and funeral? How do I face his family who I haven't fully seen in 8 years? Thank the Lord, Conley had seen that 1 armed surfer movie on Disney Plus! The verse her Dad quoted was, I can do all things, through Christ, who strengthens me (Philippians 4:13). I teach Conley these words, and have him repeat them over and over. This is the only pre-emptive comfort I can provide at this point.

We pick up Rob, a flower arrangement, and arrive at the funeral home. They had agreed to clear the chapel and give us our space. I walk up leading Conley and instantly see T's parents and family. They HATED me; at best I would get a nod and maybe a hello. I can do this. It's not about me. At that moment, Conley's Grandpa pulled me close, hugged me and said, "We're going to mend fences for this little boy". All the air left my lungs and I wasn't sure my legs would hold me. Speechless, I walked through the crowd, holding Conley as we enter the chapel.

With a bravery and steadfast nature, my boy walked slowly up the isle. I asked if he wanted me with him and he asked me to take his hand and lead him up to the casket. Rob with us every step of the way. Waiting for a break-down, he just stared. "Can I touch him, Mom?" We said yes, but he changed his mind. For almost 30 minutes we stood and took in the pictures. By this point, his grandparents had joined us and hugged us again. They even shook hands with Rob. God, please let these actions be honest and real.

T's family had planned to close the casket and place brands to adorn once we were finished. We left, gathered our bearings and came back. They start to close the lid, and wheel him out into the garage to do the branding. I look down and Conley is stroking T's hat and rope. Still no tears, but a forlorn look. Through the intimate small branding event, Conley was side by side with his Pappa placing some of the irons. I can't even describe how my heart poured out for Conley, while still feeling off centered and awkward myself.

Thursday, the day of the funeral came. Many of the feelings were still the same. Lord, do you really want me there? Is Conley going to cry? How do I face E, as my human heart blames her for this heartache? Conley chose to stand right next to his Dad's body as people filed into the fairgrounds. Reactions to us were mixed by the community, but the hugs that we exchanged with T's brother and wife were real and heartfelt. And then, there she was, staring at Conley. It took everything in my body not to react. We sit down, with the family (yes, another layer of complexity). As E walks by us, she murmurs "He will never forgive me." YOU GOT THAT RIGHT, LADY! Okay, that was anger speaking. As the service progressed, Conley kept his calm. He at one point looked over at me and locked eyes. It was as though he was trying to hold back the tears. Oh, kid it's okay to show your emotions. Please, or we will be dealing with repression for many years to come!

I can only describe that day as beautifully, redeeming and awkward all wrapped in one event. I felt like if I cried, people would judge me. If I didn't cry, I would be seen as cold. The only thing that mattered in my heart was that Conley was surrounded by family that loves him. It was a gorgeous day as Conley got on his horse with the other 30 riders who escorted his Dad to the cemetery. His Uncle and Papa surrounding him to keep him safe on their last ride. The entire family, speaking respectfully to Rob and I, while gathering to pay their final respects to a man who died unnecessarily, leaving us to raise our 10 year old son.