After Charles died, I knew that I had to keep going.

I asked myself daily if I really believed in the things I had spent my whole life believing, and if I believed in God’s plan, and that there was a plan for me. I had this deep gut feeling that my faith was going to be tested to its limits. 

And it was. 

I began to move forward, one day at a time – one moment at a time — just like the chaplain in the hospital had encouraged me to do right after Charles died. The first days and months were so hard I could barely breathe; but I had to take care of all the business – SO much business, including closing his law firm — and I kept moving forward like a grief-stricken robot. 

After a while, I started searching for something I could hold on to during this time. I needed a purpose, a reason to keep trying…Something inspirational and motivational that I could cling to. 

I decided my new life motto as a widow would become, “Choose Happiness… no matter what.” 

I breathed in the fumes of this motto… I was trying to do everything I could to be happy, and to feel the opposite of the pain that I was actually feeling in my soul. I felt like if I could have enough faith then I wouldn’t have to feel the pain… I could just bypass it, and out run it. 

I decided after a few years, that I should train for and run The Utah Valley marathon. My sister had told me that a marathon had been super healing for her with a very difficult physical trial she had been facing, she began healing, and running, and at the finish line she had finally felt “FREE!” 

I wanted to feel free, too. 

And so, I trained and ran, and ran and ran some more…

The first 8 miles of the marathon were awesome, I felt strong, and powerful… and it was mostly flat ground. But then we turned a corner, into the canyon, and onto the hills. It became brutal and it felt like I might not make it to the end. On mile 14 of the marathon, I wanted to break my own leg so I could stop running… I seriously considered it, but I kept climbing up and down the hills of the Provo canyon. I had trained in Boise, Idaho on flat ground, so I was not expecting the intensity of the climbs and downhills.

But, I did not quit, even when I wanted to. 

When I finally finished those painfilled 26.2 miles and crossed the finished line, I realized… I was not going to be free.

My husband was STILL DEAD. 

After the finish line there was not an emotional relief… the grief-struggles from before the marathon were still waiting for me after it was over. There was just the ghost of grief-past that I had been trying to outrun and it had finally come to get me, to teach me some lessons about how I would need to stop running away, and face my fear. I needed to face my grief. But I did not want to. 

I crashed hard. My body broke down fast. I had panic attacks and anxiety, and a darkness crept in that scared me to my core. I could no longer even pretend that I was happy. I was not happy… I was devasted, depressed, and in despair. 

There is a song from the movie Frozen II, that describes perfectly how I felt during that dark time. It is called “The Next Right Thing.” Anna sings the song when she believes her sister Elsa is dead, and she is left all alone in a dark cave. 

She sang… 

I’ve seen dark before
But not like this
This is cold
This is empty
This is numb

The life I knew is over
The lights are out
Hello, darkness
I’m ready to succumb

I followed you around
I always have
But you’ve gone to a place I cannot find
This grief has a gravity
It pulls me down

But a tiny voice whispers in my mind

You are lost, hope is gone
But you must go on
And do the next right thing

Can there be a day beyond this night?
I don’t know anymore what is true
I can’t find my direction, I’m all alone
The only star that guided me was you

How to rise from the floor
When it’s not you I’m rising for?
Just do the next right thing

Take a step, step again
It is all that I can to do
The next right thing

I won’t look too far ahead
It’s too much for me to take
But break it down to this next breath
This next step
This next choice is one that I can make

So I’ll walk through this night
Stumbling blindly toward the light
And do the next right thing

And with the dawn, what comes then
When it’s clear that everything will never be the same again?
Then I’ll make the choice
To hear that voice
And do the next right thing

I could not outrun my grief by running a marathon. And we are not meant to outrun our grief, we are meant to turn and Face our grief, and embrace grace for ourselves, as we walk the path of pain and sorrow. 

Courage does NOT erase our fears… courage is when we face our fears. 

As you walk, or perhaps crawl, through your own personal cave of grief and darkness… ask yourself… 

What is the next right thing for you to do?

Pray about it, seek the guidance of the Spirit… listen to the still small voice. 

What is the Next Right Thing? 

It doesn’t have to be something huge and monumental like running a marathon… or saving the whales… perhaps the next right thing for you is simply getting out of bed in the morning, and trying to greet the day with hope and grace. 

There was a time recently when I was struggling with some very difficult things regarding my attempt at remarriage that ended in divorce, all while carry the weight of widowhood in my heart. I went to see my bishop and he said to me, “Mari, have GRACE for yourself, you are doing better than you know.” 

That made such a world of difference for me. And I have been trying to understand grace more. 

Each day, when things are difficult, and they definitely have been… I often stop myself and say, “Mari, have grace for yourself!” Be kind to yourself! These are hard battles to be fought, and we are all doing the best we can. We can have grace for ourselves by acknowledging our real feelings, and allowing ourselves to feel what we need to feel, and not try and shove it down with things that numb our senses and emotions. 

Sheri Dew stated: The Savior empowers us with his grace, not because we’ve earned it, But because He loves us perfectly. 

Grace is empowering, and we all need it.

We need to have grace for ourselves and allow the grace of our Savior to carry us beyond our own capacity. 

Stop running away from grief and start walking forward with grace.