Still Learning from You

A much needed reminder for today

I made it to my flight to Atlanta. Stressful morning. I need to relax.

Spilled water on my pants = slow down…

I started a blog post a few weeks ago with the usual brain dump—what I’ve been up to, celebrating two years, Teri’s birthday, some photos, the same things I normally talk about.

Then I paused. What’s really been on my mind that I don’t want to talk about?

My friend Janell gave me a book on April 2:

Always: Connecting with the Other Side

I’m so thankful for friends like her that are intentional with helping me through my grief. I’ve been reading it at night before I sleep. Lots to think and talk about..

On this flight to Atlanta, I started to wonder: what if I could visit Teri in heaven, just for a little bit, and come back to talk about it? What would that be like?

“Where is she?!”

After arriving in heaven, I expect to find her right away—maybe holding a cute poster, waiting for me. But she’s not there.

Turns out, Teri’s got a bunch of fun stuff already scheduled. Figures. She’s having a great time. Honestly, I’m glad. She’s busy with good things.

Just like I’ve been, back on earth.

The Encounter

Eventually, we find each other.

“Teri!” I yell as I run over. “I can’t believe it. I missed you so much.”

She smiles and looks even more cute, just like we all remember.

“I missed you too! Thanks for visiting. How’s Mayo?! I can’t believe he attacked a German Shepard since he was off leash! Let me guess, you got this whole visit planned out already, huh?”

I laugh. “Sort of. But really, I just want to be with you. Hear your thoughts. It’s been two years, and I’ve been doing a lot of processing. I kind of already know what you’re going to say, but… I still want to hear it from you.”

She gives me the curious look. “Oh yeah? What do you think I’m going to say?”

I take a deep breath. “I think the hardest thing for me—what makes me the saddest—is knowing that while you appreciate how much I still think about you, write about you… deep down, you probably just want me to spend more time growing with Jesus. Like you did during your last year with us on earth.”

Teri nods slowly. “Yeah. I’m glad you said that. I wasn’t perfect in our marriage. I wish we talked more about the ways I hurt you. But you know—Jesus is perfect. Learning about Him through BSF, the Bible Project… it gave me peace. Especially heading into that second cancer battle.”

I start tearing up as I shake my head. “I know. I get it. But it’s so hard for me to do what you did. I started the one-year Bible plan, and I’m already super behind. I try listening to Jeremiah, but honestly—I have no idea what’s going on. It’s almost unfair, why was it so easy for you?!”

Teri laughs. “I loved Jeremiah. But Leviticus? That one really hit.”

I stare at her. “Are you serious? I still don’t get it.”

She smiles. “Remember that Good Friday sermon you liked at Exodus 3? The one where the pastor connected Cain and Abel to Jesus? The Bible’s one story, Erwin. When you start to see how it all connects, even the weird parts, it clicks.”

I sigh. “Yeah… good reminder. But you know me. I just want someone to tell me what to do. That’s why I like the New Testament better.”

Teri replies, “Okay, then here’s something direct: maybe stop doing so much fitness stuff. Your body needs a break. You should sleep more. Slow down. What’s the point of all that yoga if you’re still rushing and anxious all the time?”

I smile. “You already know the answer.”

“You do,” she says gently. “You want connection. You’re lonely. Just like I was when you were working late on many work nights. But those alone times? They helped me. I read my Bible. I actually did my BSF homework.”

I nod slowly. “I know. And honestly, that’s what I expected you to say. No need to say more. Thanks for the reminder. I’m feeling sad.”

“When I get back from this trip, I’ll go through my calendar. I’ll block off time. I want to be more intentional with my reading, with rest. I want to get really good at calm, quiet, relax. Can I get another hug?”

Teri’s eyes soften. “Erwin, I love you.”

I look at her. More tears. I’m reminded of the time in the hospital.

“You’re so hard on yourself,” she says. “And maybe that’s part of why you came—so I could help you get better. I get it. I was hard on you too. More than you deserved. I’m sorry. Looking back… it’s so clear how much you loved me. You still do. You blog. You visit my family. You take the day off every year to remember and share our story.”

Leaving Again :(

I look at Teri, and for a moment, I forget that I’m just visiting. It feels like we’re back in the living room, or on a walk around the lake, just talking things out like we used to. Except no more cancer and no Mayo barking at all the other dogs.

“I guess it’s time,” I say.

Teri nods. “Yeah, I figured. But you’ll be fine. I wish we had more time, but… I’m glad you came.”

I take a deep breath and try to memorize everything, knowing this is really the last time I’ll see her until I die on earth. I can’t come back. I need to move forward. Her voice, her cute smile, her peace. There’s no rush in her. No fear. No tension. Just love. Still my inspiration to keep doing hard things and talk about my feelings.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“I know,” Teri says. “But you’ve still got things to do. People to love. Stories to tell. God isn’t done with you on earth.”

I manage a small smile. “You’ll be proud of me?”

Teri steps closer, rests her hand gently on my shoulder. “I already am. All of us here in heaven. Your dad. Daddy Eddie. Mustard. And most importantly, Jesus. Just remember, rest is not weakness. Quiet is not laziness. And grief… it’s not something to fix. It’s something to carry. And you’re carrying it well.”

“I guess me and Mayo will be okay,” I finally say.

And then I’m back.

Thanks for all the flowers and Mayo stuffies on 4/2

Sitting on this flight to Atlanta now about to land. Trying to hold back tears. I shoulda stuck to “plan A” and did the brain dump. Way easier.

Photos that make me happy

Thank You

All of you still here mean so much to me. I’m so loved beyond I deserve.

Now I think about it, maybe I didn’t come just to get advice. Maybe I came to remember Teri’s voice, her heart for Jesus. To hear her call me out gently. To remind me I don’t need to keep proving I’m okay. I don’t need to do more. I just need to be here. Rest. Read. Listen. Live. Not in a rush. Not in regret. Just… be present and thank God for each day I have on earth and for every one of you.

I think that’s what she (and all of you) wanted for me all along.

Just in time to cheer me up..dessert!