From Fasting to Feasting

I was putting away some papers this morning and I had forgotten about a pile of papers that were on top of the bin. As I pulled it down off the shelf, the papers on top fell to the ground. And a wave crashed over me as I sank to the floor and cried. I had pulled the papers out to mail to Cory. They were his mission call, his mission release, and his priesthood line of authority papers. Things I knew he'd want that I didn't throw away. Things I meant to mail to him back in October when we talked about it over the phone. Things I meant to mail again in December when I pulled them out of the bin and set them on top of it. But then they were forgotten up there. I reached out to my friend. She was with me when I had pulled the papers out and ached. She was at work, but she texted and offered comfort and solutions. Maybe connect them with his Family Search information? Family Search. I stop breathing. One more place to write down that he is dead...a place that feels more ...

Cory. The first time I met him and he told me his name, five minutes later I called him "Cody." And that is how we began, with me hurting his feelings because I remembered the wrong name. Twenty years and 3 months and one day after that first meeting, he died. I can hardly believe the life I've lived in those 20 years...it seems we packed an eternity of experiences - both good and awful - into those two decades. We were engaged the day we met. Four months later we were married. Thirteen years later we divorced. Two years after that, we were married again. Four years (plus a little) later, divorced again. Ten months, three weeks, and five days later, he was dead. The first divorce, I didn't know it was mental illness. One moment he was loving and the best man I'd ever known. The next moment he was scary and someone I was afraid to be around. He would apologize and I would believe him when he told me he would not do it again. I would immediately extend trust...