He has far more energy than I can keep up with now. There was a time when his energy was manageable. Being able to focus him. Being able to run after him. Being able to keep up with him. But, he is a part of me that remains to help give new meaning to my life now. My sons have always been a special fuel for me to stay the course with most of what I didn’t agree with.
I have it written on one of the mirrors in our house, “Be excited you woke up!” And, I wonder if that was wishful thinking with the fresh, numbing pain of her death? Or, was it me preparing for what none of us are truly ready for? Life after the death of a loved one. In my case, the death of my right hand. My bride. She was my meaning for years. I never verbally expressed that, but I spent my days showing her how vitally important she was to so many lives.
If I could take the pressure off of her so she could focus on her heart’s truest desire, I have my meaning. I worked a full-time job to be able to provide the stability we needed when we literally had just each other. We may not have expressed our meanings to each other well verbally, but we knew the other was “on a mission from God.”
Her mission trajectory has ended. My mission trajectory has been eternally altered. I am thrust into a new journey of meaning. One that no one’s ever been on before. That’s how unique life is. That’s how unique life can be. There are days it’s easy to see these little reality nuggets. Then there are other days that are so hard to find the energy to move from one side of the pillow to the other. It’s nice when I do though, because the coolness feels like heaven.
Isn’t that what we’re all seeking out in our time here? Little coolnesses of Heaven. Little unique pillow flops of refreshing that we can enjoy. That’s often been hard to find in the throws of grieving. Complicated grieving at that. Grieving death physically, emotionally…in the simple acts of being alive.
Perhaps, it’s not about finding the reasons why things have happened the way they have. Though, if we don’t learn from the past, we are bound to repeat it. I don’t want to keep failing the same lessons. And now, I have somewhat of a clean slate to decide what lessons I want to learn for my greatest healing. I certainly don’t want to mess up any opportunities to grow further into the person I would like to become. Because, who’s to say who any of us should be?
I should be honored to have spent the amount of time with Julie Ann that I did. She transformed my expectation of life. She helped me grow in ways I was unable to on my own. She helped to give me 18 years of purpose and meaning. She left a legacy I am able to see is worth fighting for. She helped me create two very important members of the human species.
Even in her absence, I have an opportunity each day to be who my son needs me to be. I certainly don’t live up to my personal expectations of what a good father provides for his children, but I am learning to give myself space to work back to that place. A huge chunk of our lives is gone.
No matter how many stages of grief have been discovered, there is nothing like living what’s been discovered. At times, it feels like there’s only one stage to the process of living after death. At other times, it feels like an avalanche of never-ending stages all at once. No wonder it can be hard for me to get out of bed at times.
Even the days of dark patches have meaning. I wouldn’t have anything to compare a day filled with good moments. Not all days are bad days, and not all nights are good nights. I’m learning that the meaning is found in each and every observed moment of the day. Which is also tiring, because it’s like the ongoing analysis of a computer to be able to reevaluate emotions. Hoping not to be swallowed in a momentary glimpse of something troubling.
Taking the moments of the day where I can build gratitude into my experience has been motivation to pursue my passion for writing. It’s definitely helped with the willingness to share what I’m crafting. This is my craft. If I could go pro at anything that I am capable of accomplishing, it most certainly would be this. Pouring myself out on pages with the hopes that it’s helping me find the glimpses of light out of perpetual dimness.
I don’t say darkness because I have two lights I can look towards that will keep me hopeful. Meaning is found in ideas like that. Meaning is found in experiencing the good of the people around us. Meaning is showing itself in my life when I take the time to write, with the hopes of sharing.
Because…that’s ultimately what grief is. Love with nowhere to go looking to be shared.