Day 21 - The divided heart

I've been busy since I got home. I'm glad that we were in Houston during the last few months of Anderson's life. It was like we left a lot of stress back home in California and all we had to do in Houston was simply live. Our lives were simple; we ate, we slept, we went to the hospital. We hung out in the living room. We talked. We only bought what we needed and we deliberated over every purchase, wondering if it was worth it, was it useful or would it just add clutter to the apartment that wasn't ours for the long-run?

In a way, I wish that I could live like that now. When I got back home, and especially moved back into my room, I realized how much excess I've accumulated and how much I like to have, but don't need. I felt the same way after coming home from a missions trip in Kyrgyzstan. I was amazed at how little one truly needs to live on. It made me feel like happiness in life happens more often in simplicity than in excess.

You focus better when life is uncluttered and simple. Like in so many of those shows on HGTV... the clutter in our houses detracts from the focal points of the room... the things the architect so thoughtfully designed in the house, but are hidden by all the stuff that the owner has accumulated.

I write about excess belongings, but I also write about excess in our emotional, spiritual, and mental lives as well. I find it a lot harder to focus now that I'm home not only because my room is full of clutter and is, as it always is... a mess. I find it hard to focus on God and how He's speaking to me because my mind is being pulled in so many different directions and I'm all caught up in what I need to get done. I don't think as deeply, I don't cry as hard, I don't FEEL as much as I did in Houston. I don't feel as close to God as I did before. It makes me sad... and lonely.

So I thought about it a little more... I asked God... HOW can I get away from the "excess" when sometimes it's necessary in life? I'll have responsibilities, I'll have school, I'll have work. It's not like I can just quit it all and still survive. God wouldn't want me to be lazy or idle either. How do I continue to grow my relationship with You now that I've gone back to my old life... gone back to school... HOW?

And God speaks.

"You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart" (Jeremiah 29:13 NIV)

All my heart. The whole thing. Anderson liked to say... the whole kit & caboodle. I think he just liked saying caboodle. And I'm pretty sure he thought the phrase was "the whole kitten caboodle".

So what keeps me from seeking God with my whole heart? Owning stuff? Planning for the future? Trying to control my life? Distractions that interrupt me during prayer times, quiet times, Bible reading times... whatever pulls me from place to place and keeps me from being still and knowing God.

Declutter = FOCUS. Focus on God. Focus on what I'm doing here at this particular juncture... why did God, the master architect, design this aspect of my life this way and how can I make the most of it... to show off the beauty of the creation, the glory of the architect, and not hide it with clutter that was never designed to be there? Practically... to ask myself is it necessary to do this now or can it wait? or does it even have to be done at all? God gifted me with so much... how can I use those gifts to their utmost? How can I reach out to others using what I have? And to think purposefully on every new thing I bring in to my life... is it worth it? Is it useful? Is it worth the time and space in my life... something that I have for a only a limited amount of time?

It's going to take time and a whole lot of discipline to declutter my room... and my life.

Thank you, Julia, for offering to help me with my room, and for sharing your pastor's phrase "God is better than answers" which helped me process and write out this thought.

Day 20

I was cleaning out my wallet today and I found a note that Anderson wrote me dated 7/23/2005. He wrote this before his diagnosis... before our lives became inextricably intertwined with doctors, MRI's, chemo, and the like. Even before all of that... here's a little bit of what he wrote me, probably before he left for Brazil:

I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart for loving me the way you do. No girl has ever loved me the way that you do and I'm certain that no one ever could... One of the beautiful things about our relationship is that we can spend time apart from each other without ever really leaving each other's hearts and each other's minds. Our memories will always bring that smile to our faces when we need it and our hearts will always beat for each other as we await the future we hold together. You shouldn't be crying right now because I'm doing the crying for you this time. There's no need to cry, my love, after all... you are still my one and only.

I miss him SO much today. I'm glad I found this note. I'd been pondering the phrase "he lives on in my heart" and how untrue I felt it was. What does that mean anyway? I don't have a living, growing relationship with him anymore. Whatever is in my heart is whatever I remember of him and not really him "living" there. I knew him well, but he would still surprise me all the time. I miss that.

Our memories bring tears to my eyes now and not a smile to my face.

I've tried many times to write since the memorial. I could never really finish a string of thoughts enough to publish the post.

There are so many things I want to write about, but I don't want to just write just for the sake of writing. I'll just publish it now so it doesn't get lost.

Day 17 - The gift

Anderson's memorial service was this afternoon. I don't know why, but I'm suddenly feeling really tired physically. Maybe it's emotional exhaustion or maybe I'm still on central time. Being around a whole lot of people is also exhausting for me. I was happy to see a lot of you, but I'm looking forward to some quietness and alone time.

I did have some tidbits that I wanted to share at the open mic time, but I really couldn't hold my thoughts together very well. I figured I'd just write about it later when I got home.

I wanted to revisit the thoughts I had a few months ago about Anderson being God's gift to me.

On May 19 (before finding out about Anderson's spinal tumors), I wrote:

The past few days, I've had this verse in my mind... every good and perfect gift comes from above (James 1:17)... and another one from 1 Corinthians that says "what do you have that you did not receive?". Our life, our love, our marriage, our friends and family... are all gifts. We did nothing to earn it and we're not going to hang on so tightly as if we did earn it. We mourn some things that didn't turn out the way we would have liked but we're both trying, by God's grace, to keep things in an eternal perspective and still try to honor God in all that we do.

And on May 25 (right after his spine surgery), I wrote:

I am comforted by God at this time and I'm trying to live minute to minute, day by day. I know He's crying with me and I know He's guarding and protecting me as well as Anderson. Whatever happens next is all part of the masterpiece of our lives.

I'm tempted to shout out that it's not fair, that we don't deserve this, that we're so young, and that we're good people who deserve to be happy... but all of those phrases get cut off before I even finish thinking them. They are replaced by phrases like: he is not mine to keep, this is all part of His plan, we've been happy, these 6 years have been the best gift I've ever received, and the Lord feels and He knows the pain of loss. I really don't think that all of these phrases come out of human rationalization, they are of God and are the fruit of your prayers for us. Thank you.

I don't think I could say it better now than I did back then. What I said during those tumultuous days of uncertainty in the hospital... still ring true today.

Anderson was my gift from God. He was the most incredible blessing... to me especially. Well, I can only speak for myself. God showed me joy through Anderson. God used Anderson to mold my character. God used Anderson to make the Bible come to life for me in a way I had never allowed it to in the past. God used Anderson to teach me the meaning of surrender... of sacrifice... of love. I am forever changed and there's no going back.

When someone gives you a gift, receive it. It was prepared specifically for you by the giver. When so much thought and personalization goes into a gift, when it is so masterfully prepared and presented... it's still your choice to accept it, but I feel like it's almost offensive to the giver if you refuse it. I know it's so Chinese-y to refuse gifts, reluctantly accept it, and then give one back out of "gratitude" but more like obligation so that things are equalized and you don't owe anyone anything. Nope. God gave me Anderson for this time in my life and there's absolutely nothing I did to deserve it and nothing I can do to repay Him. I love and appreciate my gift. I marvel at how much thought and care was put into my gift. He was so perfect for me and so precious. I know that these things are not easy to come by. In fact, I may only have one in my lifetime. I know the worth of the gift, and that makes the the impact of the loss so much more heart-wrenching.

Anderson is my gift from God, but he never really belonged to me. He is God's. I am God's. We were allowed these years together here on earth, but we are also promised an eternity together in heaven. Our love... the happiness we shared... the joy behind the smiles exchanged... were just a glimpse... a taste... of what is to come.

So Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

So how am I doing? I'm doing OK. Some of you came up to me and told me to hang in there... to stay strong, to take care of myself... honestly, sometimes it seemed like I needed to say it to you more than you needed to say it to me. The deepest depths of my mourning... I feel like they are in the past. I will still cry. When I see his picture, my heart will still churn and ache. I may still bite my lip to keep the tears from falling in public places. But today, I'm OK.

The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.
Blessed be the name of the Lord. (Job 1:21b)

Day 16 - eulogy

O LORD, be gracious to us;
we long for you.
Be our strength every morning,
our salvation in time of distress. Isaiah 33:2

I still can't find the right words to tell you all about Anderson. I guess I'm looking for words to do the impossible... to bring him back to life...but on paper. I guess it's not totally impossible. I just can't find the words right now. I decided to write a eulogy instead... for now. This is my first one ever and it's mostly facts. Hope it's OK.

Anderson Chen was born on June 27, 1981 to Kenbow and Suely Chen in Belo Horizonte, Brasil. He was also welcomed home by his 9-year old sister, Kelly Chen. Although the Chen family is Taiwanese in heritage, they are also very much Brazilian as well. When Anderson was 6 years old, his father bought a house in Hacienda Heights, CA and the family moved in shortly afterwards. Anderson went to Wedgeworth Elementary School, Cedarlane Middle School, Wilson High School, and finally UCI where he graduated with a BA in international studies with a minor in digital arts. Although Anderson went to school in California, his family kept a business in Sao Paulo, Brazil. He spent his summers in Brazil, keeping up his Portuguese and developing his business skills. Since his parents ran the business in Brazil, he would often be cared for by his big sister, Kelly. Although not part of his immediate family, he grew up very close to his cousins (Sanny, Nelson, and Allan Chen) and good family friends (Alex and Fernando Pa). They all supported one another and grew up together since their parents were mostly in Brazil running their respective businesses.

As a child, he had fond memories of swimming competitively at the Hilltop Sheraton (now Pacific Palms) and playing little league at the field adjacent to his elementary school. He also continued playing baseball in high school for a year. Although his baseball career ended in high school, he continued to play in intramural softball leagues in college and was a loyal Dodger fan. Anderson was also an avid bowler; he would go bowling every week with his good friend, Fernando, and joined a bowling league for a time.

After college, Anderson had considered working for the United Nations, going to culinary school, or going back to Brazil to take over the family business. He chose to support his family and work in Brazil. He met his wife-to-be during his last year at college and they began dating a month before he graduated and left for work in Brazil. Anderson had many Christian friends, and their love convinced him to seriously consider the claims of Jesus Christ and the Bible. While Anderson was in Brazil in 2003, he prayed to receive Jesus Christ as his Savior.

Anderson went back and forth from Brazil to California for three years after he graduated from college. He would spend 3 months in Brazil, one month in California, and then go back to Brazil for another three months, all the while his relationship with his girlfriend, Tiffany Ng, continue to grow with the help of the internet and webcam.

His battle with brain cancer began in California in October of 2006 and ended in Texas on July 22, 2009. While struggling with and enduring cancer treatment through multiple recurrences, his body became weaker, but his relationship with Tiffany grew stronger and deeper. On January 10, 2009, he married his best friend and soul mate, Tiffany. Their marriage was short, but rich. Their sacrificial love was special and precious; it was a love that inspires others to love one another more. It was a love that grew deeper and stronger in the face of adversity. Just as the Bible describes it, their love was from God who enabled them to love because He first loved them.

Anderson was a blessing to all who knew him and always seemed to lighten and brighten everyone around him with his smile, his unique sense of humor and way with words. He had a big heart and always put others before himself. He loved his family and friends very much, and in his battle with cancer, he had no fear of death;.his concerns were for those he would leave behind. Anderson had always been a generous and faithful friend, and he remained that way to the end. He lived a life full of love and laughter despite tremendous physical pain and sorrow for leaving his wife and family so early in life. His motto was to do it once and do it right, for we all only live only once. It is evident that Anderson did it right and did it quick. Surely Jesus welcomed Anderson by telling him “Well done, Anderson, my good and faithful servant!”

We look forward to seeing you again in heaven, Anderson Yi Kwan Chen. (end of eulogy)

I miss you, husband. Can't wait to see you again.

Day 14

Two weeks. I can't believe it's only been 14 days since Anderson went to be with the Lord. Numbers shmumbers... it feels like we've been separated for months.

It's getting closer and closer to his memorial service. A big part of me wants to say something at his service, but I know that I won't be able to. I'm not a talker. When people ask me how I'm doing or whether or not I want to talk about it... I can barely utter the words, "I'm not ready yet" before the tears start to well up and blur my vision. If only I could just carry a computer with me and just type out my thoughts and have it speak for me. Actually, I kind of think that's what Anderson did for me. He knew my thoughts and he knew me well enough to speak for me when I couldn't... with the added benefit of having his smooth-talking filter soften up my often-too-blunt-for-comfort words.

I think maybe what bothers me (mildly) is that the people who are speaking at his service... they only knew parts of him, but I know so much more about his whole person than anyone else. The things he kept from the public... we shared during our nighttime talks. He told me his thoughts 100% unfiltered. Most of all, we talked about love. We talked about how much we loved each other probably more than anything else. Words weren't even enough to convey our love to one another. We were always looking for new and better ways to love each other. We talked about God and everything we saw Him doing in our lives. We talked about the ugly things too. We talked about our pain. We talked about the future we wanted here on earth... together. We cried together. We had joy together. We lived out our wedding vows to the fullest... for as long as we both lived.

I want to tell everyone about him. I want everyone to know the Anderson and I know... or knew. I want so badly to share but as much as I try to put it into words... they don't ever seem adequate, accurate, or vivid enough to describe my Anderson and the life he lived.

On February 12, 2009... we journaled together about the work that God's done in us. This is what he wrote on the topic (I transcribed as he spoke):
I feel like I'm a changed person, a better person. God's made me see things I thought I would never see & experience things I've never experienced. I've grown so much.

In the hospital, he kept saying how everything he'd experienced... seemed to give him glasses to see things he never saw before. How some things, like God and family, became so clearly important and all the lesser things faded away into the background.

On February 13th, we journaled about what kind of tree we are. Yeah it's a weird question but here was his response:
I wish I had more leaves to protect people from the heat. I'm not always a strong tree. I need help. I need another tree to help me.

I could be wrong, but I think that I'm his helper tree. Maybe we just intertwined and became one tree. I imagine it to be something like this


Maybe I'll try again to write about him tomorrow.

Day 13

I'm having a hard time thinking about him and talking about him today. There was a time where I couldn't stop thinking/talking about him, but today I just didn't want to uncover that part of me. Lots of things make me think of him, but the words just wouldn't come out.

My friends and I went out for dinner and yogurt tonight. I almost felt like nothing had changed... except for those moments when I was reminded of him and then I just kept those thoughts to myself. It's like... when you're happy, you want to share that happiness with your favorite person. If you can't be with your favorite person, you almost don't want to be happy. Almost feel guilty for having a happy moment without them. Sigh. Not everyday is like this. And I'm sorry I only seem to blog when I'm having a particularly emotional moment.

I did an exercise video last night. I used to do it in the living room in Texas and he'd watch me. Sometimes he'd say I looked so "cute" when I exercise. I think that's code for "ridiculous" but it becomes cute when it's your favorite person doing it.

I've been keeping busy. Lots of paperwork and organizational things to take care of before I register for classes next week. I will have a very full day tomorrow as well. I should shower and sleep now.

Day 12 - Longing

I wasn't planning on posting tonight. I was so tired after coming back from retreat. It wasn't the actual retreat that wore me out. I think it's partly because I haven't had much time at home to unpack, settle in, and just be myself. I still feel like I'm living out of a suitcase. This past weekend was our church family camp and after being foreigners in Texas for the past few months, I was glad to see familiar faces and fellowship with my church family. Some of these people, I've grown up with for the past 20 years... some I'm just meeting for the first time. Anyway, it was nice to see everyone and also spend some more time with my family.

After watching a short video that Anderson sent me from Brazil in 2007 and the subsequent waterfall of tears and rush of emotions, I've decided to write about longing today. For the first three years of our relationship, Anderson and I longed for each other across North and South America. I kept letters, emails, pictures, videos all around me as reminders of him to soothe my longing and remind me of what lay ahead when we were reunited. These reminders always used to ease my longing heart... but now, they only seem to strengthen the intensity of the pain, the yearning, the longing for reunion.

I did finally get those audio files that Anderson recorded for me prior to the Arizona trip I took a few years back. I thought that hearing his voice again would make my heart happier, but it only made my heart hurt more. He talked to me about all the things we'd do when I got back... the big hug he'd give me when I came home... how much he missed me. I remember laying in my sleeping bag a few years ago, listening to those recordings and just beaming with joy. Hearing those same recordings a few days ago... I remember curling up in agony as my heart seemed to collapse on itself.

I used to hope that Jesus wouldn't come for us until I'd gotten married, had kids, and started my own home. Now I long for that day. I long for the day that the trumpets sound and we ascend to heaven. I long the way I should have been longing for heaven all along. Once again, God has used Anderson to open my heart and teach me what it means (and what it feels like) to love God even more. The love Anderson and I shared, was but a mere glimpse of the love that God the Father feels for us. Anderson was my gift... my glimpse of God's love for me... our beautiful love is like a pittance in comparison to the vastness of God's unconditional love. Similarly, my longing for reunion with Anderson in heaven, as strong as I feel it now, is only for one small part of the beauty, richness, and joy that heaven promises to be.

I see pictures of him everywhere and I still can't believe that he's not just 7 miles down the freeway in Hacienda Heights. It really feels like it used to... before we were married... when I'd be at my home and him at his... only... I can't call him, text him, or IM him anymore. Every time I see a picture, I'm hit with a brief flash of love and joy followed by the harsh realization, like a slap in the face, that he's not here anymore.

I'm still reading C.S. Lewis's A Grief Observed. In the book, and in others I've read, the loss of a loved one is like an amputation. You don't get over it... you can't get over it; you learn to live with it... or more like live without it. I imagine myself as an amputee... my heart and soul cut in half... but for the purpose of imagery... let's say my arm was amputated. I could lay there in bed, closing my eyes, trying to remember what it felt like to have that arm again. I could look back at pictures and try to recreate those moments. I could try my whole life to live in the past... live in the "glory" days, but none of my trying will ever make that arm grow back. That arm is no longer there, no longer connected to me, no longer receiving life's blood, no longer growing old with me or helping me through the day. Things I used to use that arm for... simple things like getting dressed... things I took for granted and never thought about... I'm suddenly acutely aware of my deficits, my loss, and how "good" I used to have it when it was still there.

I come back to the longing again. I can either... long for the past or long for the future. God has promised eternal life for those who believe. He says that in heaven, there is no more tears, no more pain, and that we will have new bodies... glorified bodies. Not really sure what they'll be like, but I'm pretty sure that if there's no more tears and no more pain, then either our bodies are restored, or we will live in heaven in such a way as the things that limited us on earth no longer apply in heaven. Jesus still had nail marks in his hands and feet, but no pain... and he walked through walls. I digress. Longing.

Is it cold if I choose not to continue to long for what I had in the past? Would you want an amputee to spend their days and nights longing for their amputated limb?

It is my logic and my conscious decision to long not for what I had on this earth, but to long for what is promised me in heaven. I choose to pick myself up, keep my eyes looking ahead, and live the rest of my life making the most out of what limbs I have left. I choose to long for heaven, where the ultimate reunion will take place... where no one, no distance, no cancer can ever separate us again... for an eternity. Intellectually, I choose. Heart and head though... will not always align.

We don't really want grief, in its first agonies, to be prolonged: nobody could. But we want something else of which grief is a frequent symptom, and then we confuse the symptom with the thing itself... bereavement is not the truncation of married love but one of its regular phases-like the honeymoon. What we want is to live our marriage well and faithfully through that phase too. If it hurts (and it certainly will) we accept the pains as a necessary part of this phase... We were one flesh. Now that it has been cut in two, we don't want to pretend that it is whole and compete. We will be still married, still in love. Therefore we shall still ache. But we are not at all... seeking the aches for their own sake. The less of them the better, so long as the marriage is preserved. And the more joy there can be in the marriage between dead and living, the better. -C.S. Lewis

I haven't quite figured myself out... and I also haven't quite figured out this quote that I just put here, but I'm working on understanding them both.

And now that I've unloaded a string of thoughts and the tears have stopped falling... I think I can sleep. Good night!