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The Gift of Legacy
In some ways it seems like so long ago. Yet, at the same time, it seems it couldn't possibly have been eight years that have passed me by. 
Widowed at the age of 33, I found myself embarking on a journey I never knew was coming... and I never imagined it would begin with a tragedy.
I can still recall the day I spent time with God at the Calvert Cliffs State Park in Maryland. No, I don't mean I just thought about God there. I spent time WITH God. I enjoyed His presence. Never before had I experienced anything like it. When I close my eyes, I can picture the fluffy clouds that floated so majestically above me that day. I've always loved to watch the clouds move about the sky, but that day it was special. Ospreys spread their wings and flew gently and nobly above me as I felt so comforted by my Father. No words are adequate enough to describe that day.
I knew He was there, but I didn't know why. Looking back now, I think I felt a little like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. There I was... lying on my back enjoying a beautiful day in God's creation... and He came down to visit me. It was such an incredible experience that I told my friends and family that something big was about to happen, but I didn't know what it was. I only knew that there had to be something very important ahead for God to come visit me.
As the next few days passed, I began to feel a presence of death. We've heard stories and seen movies about the angel of death. Perhaps that is what I felt. Maybe the angel that was to take Rich home was something my spirit could detect. At first, I thought it was me. I thought God was preparing ME for death. A few days later, I was cleaning up dishes from dinner in the Navy Lodge with the boys. I suddenly began to feel strange. Out of the blue, my vision became shaky. It was as though the room was moving. I sat down and tried to get it to stop, but it kept getting worse, and my hands began to feel tingly. My oldest son, Dillon, started to get worried and said he should call 911, but I didn't want him to. I lay down on the bed as the symptoms worsened. 
The next thing I knew I felt like my throat was closing up and it was hard to breathe. That's when I gave the OK for Dillon to dial 911. It all happened so quickly, and I found myself in an ambulance on the way to St. Mary's Hospital. The doctor's explanation? My potassium was very low and I'd had an anxiety attack.
Five days later... it was 3 a.m., and I couldn't sleep. I tried reading the paper for a while. A few days before, it had crossed my mind like an unspoken voice... it was Rich that was going to die... not me. I had shoved the thought out of my head as quickly as it had entered. I even felt guilt for thinking such a thought. It's so strange how we can react to things we sense and feel. It's not the norm, so we don't know how to react. At 3:20, I put the paper down and went to bed... still not suspecting, or perhaps not wanting to suspect, what the next day would hold.
8 a.m. Oct. 12. It was a Thursday morning, and like any other school morning... except for one thing. I picked up the TV remote and carried it to the edge of the bed and sat down. I never watched TV before taking Dillon and Br
ady to their schools. As I carried that remote to the bed, it was like I was moving in slow motion in my mind. I wondered what I was doing, but it was as though it wasn't me doing it. I sat down and turned on the TV, turning the stations and stopping on local news. There she was... this lady speaking. I was in a trance even before the words ever came out of her mouth... "A U.S. Navy ship has been bombed." Then I heard her say, "... a destroyer." I sunk a little further down against the headboard of the bed. The next words left me paralyzed for a moment, but I knew she was going to say it before she did, "...USS Cole." Dillon had gone to the lobby to get me some coffee just before I grabbed that remote control...
and just as the words "USS Cole" had been spoken and a picture of it displayed behind the newscaster's head... Dillon walked back into the room. I cannot remember what I was doing or if I was saying anything or not, but I do remember Dillon saying, "What's wrong Mom?" And then my soon to be six-year-old son, Brady echoing, "Mom, what's wrong?" I sat there not believing what I was hearing or seeing. I heard the haunting words leave my lips, "Dad's ship was bombed."
Before Rich left out to sea, he asked me to promise him something. He said, "Promise me you'll take care of the boys for me."
At first, I was offended. I replied, "As if I wouldn't take care of them?"
He said, "No, it's not that. It's just that... well, just promise me, OK?" Now I understand. Rich had already had a bad feeling about going on that cruise. He had made several comments about it. Somehow, I believe God was preparing him. I know now that the reason Rich asked me to make that promise... was to keep me going. I remember very little of the funeral. After leaving the viewing room, I think I went into shock. The only thing I recall is the boys leaving my side to go light candles beside his coffin. The boys... they were my focus.
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Ethan was four and Brady was turning six the next month, when their dad was killed. They once asked me why it is that God gave sons to their father, if He knew that their father was going to die and leave his sons fatherless. I didn't have to think about that one. The answer was simple. In 1992, I had two miscarriages. The second one was the worst. I was 10 weeks pregnant, but the baby had stopped
developing two weeks prior. The heart beat was fading... the pulse was barely there. The baby was dying, and there was nothing that could be done. I was alone and in a great deal of pain. Rich was in San Diego with Vice President Gore. The hospital had contacted WHCA (the agency Rich worked for), and they had called over to San Diego to let Rich know that I would be having a DNC the next day and that he would be flown home for the procedure. That night he called me. He cried on the phone and asked, "Why doesn't God want me to be a daddy?" He had been a wonderful step-dad to Dillon, but he wanted so much to experience having a child and raising it from birth... and he wanted boys.
I told his sons that I believe God watched their father cry. God knew the desires of their father's heart. God gave their father what he wanted in this life, even though He knew it would only be for a short while. I told them that their father sacrificed his life. He served this country to protect it and ended up losing his life because of it... and that leaves us with a sacrifice of our own. 
They have to sacrifice not having a father, because if they had never been born... their father would never have known that joy. They are his legacy.
So, each day I raise these boys on my own. Sometimes it's not easy. No, make that...OFTEN it's not easy. But honestly, I'm not so sure I'd be here today if God didn't give me strength and give me them to care for. Though it isn't always easy, God's grace and those words have kept me going since the day Rich died... "Take care of my boys for me." Today, these boys are quickly growing into young men. They are strong. I comfort them and they comfort me. They are their father's legacy, and it is my job to mold that legacy. Rich's legacy lives on in them.
We cannot understand so many things about this life, but I don't believe we have to understand everything. We just have to trust in God's sovereignty and have faith that He will hold and keep us. God's voice speaks to us and prepares us if we take the time to listen. We cannot fear the unknown. God's spirit is real. He prepared both Rich and me for what was ahead of us. God is with each one of us... with every step we take.
We are all His legacy. We are a legacy of God's creation... and His truth is in us to impart to future generations. The scriptures say again and again, "His truth endures to all generations." We are God's continuous, unfolding legacy, and for me, that's enough to hang on to.
Yes, I have endured trials and sorrows, but the gift of legacy is the foundation that keeps me standing... both the legacy my sons are for their father, and the legacy I am for my heavenly Father. 
The gift of legacy gives meaning and purpose. Purpose is the reason why I've shared this story with you. It is my hope that no matter what trials you have faced or may be facing, you will find that God-given purpose inside of you. The purpose to know Him, through a relationship with His Son, Jesus Christ, and to do His will. It can give you the heartbeat of life, when life seems to be falling down around you. Just remember, YOU are a living legacy, proclaiming His truth to all generations!
Copyright © 2008-2011 Sharla Chachere Costelow
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