You Hold My Heart in Your Hands

JOE TULLY

November 11, 1955 - November 11, 2016

Since I created this Blog in memory of my husband, Joe, I figured I'd tell you a little more about the man who made my life richer than I ever thought possible. I thank God every day for the gift of my husband. Joe, you will always be my sun in the middle of rain.

This quote is from the movie Shadowlands, which is about the life of Christian writer C.S. Lewis. The quote is adapted from his final words to his dying wife Joy:

"Not much more to say. I love you, Joe. I love you so much. You’ve made me so happy. I didn’t know I could be so happy. You’re the truest person I’ve ever known. Sweet Jesus, be with my beloved husband, Joe. Forgive me if I love him too much. Have mercy in us both." 

You Hold My Heart in Your Hands

My sweet Joe:

I don’t even know how to begin. There’s so much to say; but thankfully, nothing was unsaid. The bottomless ache of missing you is more than I can bear. But the wave of love created by the people who love us most is gently nudging me forward. And since you and I are joined by the same Holy Spirit, I hear your whisper deep inside me.

Oh, how I love you, and oh, how I love the life we had together. I asked if you were mad, and you said “No.” I know you were sad more for us than for yourself. That’s what love is, right?

For me, the past four years have been an excruciating dance between hope and despair, life and death. But you’ve always accepted life’s hardest challenges without fighting, complaint or pity. Choose joy, right? You accepted the path God chose for you. Right after one of the worst reports we could have gotten, you shrugged and said, “What’s for dinner?” As usual, I replied, “I don’t know.”

You loved ice fishing. Personally, I think you enjoyed the beer (Smithicks over Guinness) more than the fishing. And you recently discovered emoji’s. I cherish the “I love you’s” accompanied by a string of eight perfectly-selected images. You never lost that childlike sense of curiosity and wonder. It could drive me nuts; but then again, isn’t that what it’s all about?

You loved your plants and birds, your riding lawn mower, golf, camping, hiking – everything outdoors. And putzing around the house. And your dog Bella. She’s still YOUR dog. And scratch tickets. We can’t forget the scratch tickets. We wondered how we would pay for our wedding, and you won $5000 two weeks before we were married. So I guess scratch tickets aren’t so bad.

You loved your work and your friends. But clear, concise articulation of your thoughts and feelings was not one of your gifts. Your friend Todd told me that he and Mike were the only two people on earth who knew how to “speak Joe.”

You lived simply, uncluttered, slow. What you see is what you get. You never worked at becoming someone - you just were who you were. You saw the flowers while I was heedlessly stepping on them. You were content to be in the background, and you were fully present. You breathed deeply, laughed large and let life carry you.

You hugged too hard. Literally. Sometimes it felt like being squeezed by a boa constrictor. But I realize isn’t this how it should be?

You loved your family with all of your great, big, uncomplicated heart. You will always be Uncle Joey with the never-ending supply of doughnuts.

You told me that you’ve always muted your big, baritone voice, and that you knew in Heaven, you could really belt it out. I can imagine the angels with their hands over their ears. If I’m still enough, I hear you too. I only wish I needed to put my hands over my ears.

You were born again on your birthday. Your life came full circle. I take enormous comfort in knowing that you accomplished what God sent you here to do. You never had to look for your purpose; you were always in it without even trying. I believe this was God’s greatest gift to you – and to me. You were taken from me too soon, but your Father was ready for you. Well done, Joe - kudos.

You loved taking care of me. You told me I held your heart in my hands. You are my sun in the middle of rain. You taught me how to see and to live the sun in the middle of rain. I’ll honor your precious and brilliant life by opening my heart bravely and without struggle to the sun in the middle of rain. Maybe one day, I’ll learn how to speak Joe.

     ---Meg Tully, November 14, 2016