Since losing Riley there are things about God's character I ponder. There are so many questions I have. So, I talk to him a lot. I praise him and thank him, I grapple with him and wonder about him. Sometimes he answers, and other times he is stone-cold silent.

There is a layer of my grief that has been buried in my heart for fourteen months. A pain that has purposely been punched down so deep and cavernous that I'm not sure I'll ever let it fully surface. It is so immeasurable and extensive that it's nowhere to be found.

I was recently in a social situation that brought me to my knees. I had introduced myself to a new couple I had never met before. We made small talk when suddenly the women gestured to the large space we were in and asked, "So, who are you connected to?"

“The Scharpers.” Before Riley went to heaven, I’m sure anyone who looked at "The Scharpers" saw a family who mirrored the "American Dream." On the outside looking in we had it all. A loving marriage, a beautiful baby girl, successful careers, and amazing friends and family.

In those early morning hours after the accident I never went to sleep. After returning home I didn't know what to do, so I aimlessly walked into the guest bathroom and took a shower. I was so naive to think that a hot shower was the answer, that being physically clean and throwing my clothes away would somehow cut the sting.

I flushed the toilet and walked over to the mirror in a small bathroom in the Emergency Department trauma bay. I looked at the woman in the mirror. My hair was violently pulled back in a disaster of a messy bun. I didn't have a trace of makeup on my face.

"You can have a seat right here, I'm going to get you a warm blanket." These were the words the organ procurement coordinator said to me after I walked out of the ICU room within seconds of saying goodbye to the love of my life.

Nothing on earth can prepare you for the devastation of losing a spouse. It's unimaginable. It's honestly just impossible. So what happens when you kiss your best friend goodbye in the morning before work, and he never comes home?

I am worn out from sobbing. All night I flood my bed with weeping, drenching it with my tears. My vision is blurred by grief; my eyes are worn out because of all my enemies. Go away, all you who do evil, for the LORD has heard my weeping. The LORD has heard my plea; the LORD will answer my prayer. Psalms 6:6-9

"There are two things you can count on, people are going to say stupid things, and you will get ugly flowers." These were words of advice I received while planning my husband's funeral. The wise woman who said this was right. People said stupid things, and I got ugly flowers.

The worst part about tragedy is that you don't want a single soul to know your story, but at the exact moment, you actually want every single soul to know your story. There are times when I am out in public and I desperately want to write on my forehead, "My husband is dead," or "I am a widow," or "I am a single mom."

It was 106 degrees in the middle of the Utah desert. Riley and I were headed southbound on highway 24 coming from Goblin Valley State Park and headed to Capitol Reef National Park. Red rocks raced outside my passenger window. It was hot but the air conditioning in the car made me feel chilly.