After Love

After love dies, well

it's some kind of death, I

dye my hair to tint the years. Ahead

is a fading afterglow I try to keep

(for my children’s sake) wrapped

in plastic in a Sterilite container in

the dark, like clay waiting to be

shaped into something un-

familiar. Body ashes remain

vaulted, making turns like clouds

in quiet spread and vapor

in my heart.

-DC

It’s been hard for me to express anything about my late husband—the love of my life who died when he was not supposed to. I believed and still believe I heard from the Lord on a plane to be with him after learning of his diagnosis. The Lord said, “Duwayne will not die of cancer and he will not die in his youth. It will get worse before it gets better, but it’s not unto death.” I told my love this many times when he or we both were discouraged. I took it to God’s throne all the way to his death. The only thing left for me to do was to raise him from the dead. And my regret for not trying is something I will have to give over to the Lord until I can properly forgive myself. It may sound strange. But that’s how much I believed.

Healing feels complicated—so many players involved. I want it to be as simple as it seems in the Gospels, but then, maybe we’re not reading as well as we should. Duwayne did not want to die, yet he was so embattled that it may have been inevitable. Emotionally, physically, spiritually—on every front he struggled. There was not a single part of him that was not touched, afflicted. He did his utmost to honor the Lord with his faith, to honor me as his wife, and his daughters. That was his dream. He had simple desires: a family, good home and fulfilling career. He wanted to be healed. As a woman of faith, what do I do with the promise I heard from the Lord? Do I say, “Well, I must not have heard the Lord?” “God is a liar?” “God is shifty or so sovereign that he doesn’t care and is not moved by our prayers in the name of Christ?”

Many were praying. I‘ve discovered, though, that not all were praying along with us for healing. They saw his suffering and asked for God’s mercy, to take him from this awful world of pain. I don’t blame those who prayed in this way, although it took some time to forgive. I don’t understand it all (and “the all” I’ll do my best to say more about later). I don’t understand why I did not receive the ultimate miracle I was asking for, however there were many other miracles along the way that I still ponder in my heart and praise the Lord for. 

Eva Adele was born in 2014, four years after he was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer with metastasis to his liver. We were not supposed to have children. In fact, no one even advised us to freeze his sperm because he was not expected to live; immediate surgeries and chemo made all that out of the question. Death was imminent. No law school, as he had just passed his LSATs and got into UCLA Law School. Doctors pitied me, the young wife barely wet around the ears with life. They were right. I was young and blinded by trouble that would age my soul with haste. Four years later, defying all odds, Eva was born while he was studying for the California Bar. If you know anything about studying for the Bar, you know that a pregnant wife and birth of a baby are recipes for failure. Regular people leave their families and check into hotels. Duwayne, he laughed at failure. He rose to every challenge saying, “Hon, dem a try fail mi! Not today” with that resolved, scornful chuckle of his. So, he walked to Subway or went to other places in the middle of the night to feed and get me anything I wanted. And days after Eva was born, he held her in his arms and studied. When he took the exams, he came home a little early wondering why it was so easy for him. I began to slightly panic thinking maybe he missed a section. But I knew better. So did he.

God was our promise keeper in those seasons. Take up your mat and walk was our way of life because we were looking for and living in the impossible. Before we got married, we named all our children. Duwayne even used their first initials as part of passwords for a while. We held on to Luke, Eva, Rachel, and Jordan. Eva came and filled our hearts with hope. She is so much like the both of us.

“Duwayne will not die of cancer and he will not die in his youth. It will get worse before it gets better, but it’s not unto death.” The only part of that promise that was fulfilled is the getting worse part. Let’s not try to sugar it up. This is the rub of faith, the knot of being in relationship with God. It’s the “How could you?” that must be asked if we are to ever grow, and truly understand and receive the love of God. It must be broached and crossed.

The second miracle that I’ll share now is Amelia Naomi, named by her father in a text that I still read. I loved it. There was no need to keep thinking about it. We didn’t have Luke, Rachel or Jordan. The news of Amelia filled out hearts and was our last high point together. We found out I was pregnant on our tenth anniversary, on August 16, 2018. What a blessing. I won’t go too much into how our lives deteriorated from that point on (right now), but I will say that it is a significant memorial stone. Dead nine months later, my husband helped produce perfection. Amelia is as sharp as a razor with a smile none can rival. Go big or go home. That was Duwayne. That was me, I’ve come to realize. We wanted more children, and so we made it happen, prayerfully, which is another area I have had to go to the Lord about. I told Him not to give me more children if there was hardship down the road.

As painful as it was to give birth to her without him, I wouldn’t change anything. I’d do it again. And for the second time, as sick as he was during that pregnancy, he did his best to do all for me. And more, when he was forced to take leave from work, his law firm was shocked at his workload. It was a lot. Way too much, not just for a sick person, but anyone. And I’ve forgiven him for that. But what else was this precious man to do? Lord.

So much involved in healing the body and soul. It takes our asking, taking to heart God’s Word to us—and more. That’s my experience, anyway. And now, Oprah’s wise question, “What do I know for sure?” God loves. Even through protracted suffering, maybe especially, God loves. He loved Duwayne. He loved me, loves still. I teach it to my children and wrap the turns of my heart in it.