These days when I talk to others about my past experiences with GR’s cancer and death and loss and widowhood and anything and everything that has transpired in my life since February 21, 2016, I sometimes feel as if I am talking about someone else’s life. It feels kind of strange because I know it’s not someone else’s life.
Time has an interesting way of altering perspective. I can see things I couldn’t see before and understand things I couldn’t have understood before.
Perhaps it’s because my vision isn’t as clouded by emotion, I’m not sure. There is a clarity to my retrospect that is new; therefore, a bit challenging to articulate at times.
I have friends my age who have recently and devastatingly lost their life partners. When I communicate with them I almost don’t know what to say. I struggle to find words of comfort, and advice is not something I aim to give. Unless asked, no one wants or needs advice in a time of deep grief and sorrow. We just need people to be there and to see us and hear us and hold us and hug us. To bear witness to their pain and to not project our own. The journey through the pain is a solitary one and no one can do it for us, but they can walk alongside us. This is where I see God in the world, in the people who carry us when we can’t get up off the floor by ourselves.
Today–a little more than three years after GR’s death and, in just two short days, 32 years since the death of my father–I have experienced enough heartache, loss, suffering, death, and pain to have come to the realization that there’s no avoiding or denying any of it. I have also arrived at the realization that this is not a downer, or something to fear.
How would we truly appreciate the preciousness and fragility of life without the awareness and acceptance of the fact that one day it will all be over?
I am as human as the next human, though. And some days suck and some days are boring and some days are hard and sad and painful and some days are full of deep-seated fears that make me sick to my stomach and some days are full of a bunch of shit that nobody wants to deal with. Some days I cannot find it in myself to be grateful and I want to crawl in a hole and sleep for two weeks.
That’s just the way that it is. And, that’s okay.
This is, in fact, my whole point to this post. No matter the piles of shit that life serves up and will continue to serve up, on the days that feel far from okay, in the end, it will be all okay. I have seen it with my own eyes and lived it through my own experiences.
Somehow, some way, it’s all gonna’ be okay. I know that because I never thought it would be, and it is and I am.