Six month's re-boot

It's now been over six months since Kim died. And it's been over a week since I scrapped my original blog post for this half-year reflection. It was too difficult.

When Kim died Nov. 23, 2015, I vowed to write each month, telling about my feelings, those of my kids, and this journey of "losing" a spouse...And I know Kimmer, we didn't lose you; you died.

I also had convinced myself that if we had no answers regarding Kim's death by six months, I would revisit that horrific scene in the hospital. I thought I might need to better inform friends on what happened, what my eyes saw. And I truly thought I might need to finally unload my inner feelings, to finally feel free of that experience.

But I couldn't.

And I'm still trying to sort out just why. What I do know is this: Kim died, and she shouldn't have. And people I trust are trying to sort it all out.

My original words for this month may someday surface. Maybe not. It might be that when re-reading those reflections of that unexpected, frighteningly difficult turn-of-events in Kim's hospital room it appeared as if I was unforgiving. And that's not the case, not me.

Forgiveness is one of life's most passionate sentiments and often the most difficult for many. I have often considered that reality most troubling. How can a nation which so often prides itself on Biblical teachings be so hesitant to forgive? How can a nation which preaches Christianity be so intolerant?

I've written before about some of Kim's last Facebook postings which, of course, were some of her last thoughts. She was deeply troubled by the mounting refugee issues in the world, of the harsh words she was hearing about Muslims, about the intolerance of gay and transgender rights. Kim was looking deeply into her core beliefs. And I was proud of her for doing so.

At this half-year point, Kim would be appalled at the Trump campaign, at the state of politics. And she was not political. But she did have a deeply-rooted sense of fairness and justice. And she wore it in a social worker's role.

I'm guessing that just maybe, for the first time in her life, Kim would become much more vocal and active this election season. She was also firm that she didn't want me to re-enter the political scene; too many skeletons, I'm thinking. And she was probably right. She wanted to protect both me and the kids.

But this election season is changing the norm. We have a local legislator who is championing language that is so hateful, so dangerous, all the while with a hand on the Bible. It's hypocrisy at its peak. It's disgusting. And it's disappointing so many support his words.

We have Donald Trump one step away from the presidency. How could one consider such a vulgar man for this country's top spot? I'm more qualified than Trump. I even have fewer skeletons!

What is it that Trump has that I don't? Money.

That's one of today's greatest injustices. I've worked much of my life on issues of poverty and class issues. Trump is dialing it back and campaigning on fear. Sadly, it resonates.

Kim would be stepping up against those words of hate. We all should.

So at the six-month point of Kim's death, even a blog talking about this journey can't hide from the fact that it's been ugly out there. And Kim would now want me to venture into the fray, I'm thinking. And to speak my mind, campaigning in my own way against hate.

How's that for a shift away from Kim's final day, those final minutes?

I still have moments when I cry. It usually comes after spending time with the grandchildren. Kim would be shining during those times.

For those grandchildren -- and your grandchildren -- we can't keep going down this road of hate, climate change denial, and intolerance. We can do better. Kim would want it that way.