Biography
Please allow me to share myself (my spirit) with you. My name is Elizabeth Woods. At the time of this writing, I am 28 years old, and a widow. What brought me to creating a space for other women in a similar situation of heartache and upheaval, was the sudden and unexpected death of my incredible late husband Brian, on August 14th, 2009. He was only 31 years old – a Special Forces soldier serving in Afghanistan. He was wounded by enemy fire, and the injury to his head was too severe to be able to save him. His last breath was taken half a world away from me, and I heard about it over the telephone, hours after the injury had occurred. Even before the life-changing call, I had felt a difference in the earlier minutes of that day. There was a stillness and emptiness that was heavy in the air. A strange disconnect from the usual fullness I felt from having my soul partner on the same plane of this world. It’s as though I could feel his thoughts had dissipated, and I felt that he was not thinking of me. I knew something did not feel right. He was always able to call me around the early afternoon, often before they were going on a mission. I remember the light so clearly that day. The way it streamed in through the windows. It was extremely sunny and warm, with almost a morning type of glow. Although, as the time began to reach 4 in the evening, the warmth of the sun could not even begin to touch my nervous, unsteady heart. The palpitations grew to a fast raging pummel of waves the moment I received the words that my husband was wounded. The man’s voice seemed light at first, as if he were calling to give me a friendly convenience call, to check in on how my daughter and I were doing. And then the words came out.
Time slowed intensely as I tried to make sense of his perfectly pronounced English words. What language was he speaking? Oh right, I understand English too….under normal circumstances anyway. My knees buckled, but I moved through it and began pacing in a figure eight of circles. Wait a minute…but I’m in a haven in the mountains..taking a short breather…a vacation with our baby girl. Bad things can’t reach me here! This is absolutely a mistake. Brian has been severely injured, and they are requesting that his family be at his side. They flew him into Landstuhl, Germany, where the best medical care is…the best doctors. My heart is pounding through my ears now, I can’t think and hear my heart at the same time. Oh god, oh god, my body is in shock. Just robotically do what they tell you. Your life has not just fallen apart…it is still the same…I still have a family…my daughter still has her father…. Wwwwwiiiidddooowww…begins slowly seeping through my brain. No, I couldn’t possible be one of those. Brian promised me he would be safe, that any injuries would be temporary. He’s supposed to be home in another 5 and a half months. He’s only been there for 6 weeks. Nothing could happen that soon. I’ll go to him, and make him better. As soon as he hears my voice, he’ll wake up. I have that kind of magic.
But I could not save him. After a torturous flight to Germany, all I could do was sit by his side, and hold his hand. I stared at this wonderful man, who was always so intensely full of life. He never sat still….ever. Brian was always on the move. He always came bursting through the door when he’d come home, larger than life, as if he had just run a marathon and couldn’t wait to open the door and see what the prize was. I stared hard at his face. Never mind his black and blue eyes, or his cut lip. I saw him just as clearly as I always had. Except now I was the one doing all of the talking. He could usually out-do me in that department. He always had some plan, purpose, argument, or point to make. Those words that made him uniquely "Brian." Was he watching me now? Could he see me suffering like this? I barely ate for four or five days. I also had to stop breast-feeding. Another intense sadness…having to leave our 7 month old daughter behind with family, so that I could travel to see her daddy pass from this world. A man she would now only remember through pictures, videos, the voicemails I had saved, and the stories I would later tell. He wanted to be an organ donor, so in order to respect his request, I had to approve the organs that they could take. I 
stayed next to him during the night in the hospital, and did not sleep . I remember so clearly the feeling of tears sliding down the side of my face, sogging up the pillow, as memories, dreams, and a crumbled future went reeling through my brain. I too was injured, beaten-up, lifeless, paralyzed….dead. This is not my life, this is not my life, this is not my life – was my endless mantra, repeating itself in a circle throughout my brain. Get me out of this hell, my mind was screaming! He doesn’t have to suffer anymore, and now I’m left alone to fight through Hades. When the doctors finally came to take him from the room, I literally saw my life pass before my eyes. It was over. My life was over. But no, I must re-phrase that. Yet again, my life (as I had known it) was over.
Right before the loss of Brian, I was a stay-at-home mother to our 6 month old daughter. I was continuously worried about my late husband’s safety, and to my deepest despair, my nightmares suddenly became my reality. Since this life transformation, I have become a warrior in my own right. I have fought to the greatest depths of my soul to revive whatever was left of my spirit. That is why I am here today, wanting to give all that I have to support other women who have suffered, struggled, and continue to live each day with a loss that is going to forever be a part of us. Continually shaping, molding, challenging……and I hope eventually INSPIRING us. We, in the most insanely painful manner, know the fragility of life. The temporary state of being in this world. Nothing ever remains the same. There is a constant shifting happening that we have no control over. Every day is my constant effort to surrender. I fight it terribly, but some days, I experience it in moments. Those moments of peace eventually become longer…where your heart does not feel like it weighs thirty pounds. I am on my journey…I began it a long time ago. Brian helped to inspire, mold, motivate, and push me to evolve at a greater pace. I always saw a strong woman, but she is now in full bloom, whether I like it or not. I am rooted in my pain. I feel it, I breath in it, and I ever so gently move through it….up and down in the waves. I allow myself to be held by the dirt-filled earth, by those who are here to love me, by my daughter, and by the sound of my own heart beating. I have allowed myself to be held by a community of other women in extreme pain (my widow friends) - all at different stages of their grief. I have allowed myself to be held by the suffering of all those on this planet, by our earth community. And through all of these people who have been holding me, I am here to hold you now – my dear friend. I am still here, breathing, walking, connecting, loving, aching, screaming, laughing, and courageously living in honor of both myself and the memory of my loved ones. I extend my spirit to comfort your soul, to cushion your pain, and to let you know that you are never on this path alone.
