Shining Light on Broken Glass

What is there to say when words are not enough to express all the cacophony of emotions that swirl within? Last Friday would have been 17 years married, but instead today is 16 months since Bill died. The sadness of that exposes the deep wound to the light and makes me feel irrepairably broken. The Lord binds up wounds and mends broken hearts, so obviously there is work to be done on me. It's a strange feeling, walking around most of the time living my everyday life, everything looking pretty put together, but sometimes having the pieces within me crashing about in odd directions.  Like today - ordinary day. I got up, went to my desk and worked for the day, had dinner, did some light house cleaning, watched some TV and surfed the net. Then I looked at the clock on the computer and saw that it was after midnight, 12:13, and then I looked at the calendar and realized it was now Wednesday, the 27th - 16 months, and I felt some pieces fall out of the shattered window of my heart.

I want so much to be over the sadness, to feel happiness without the undertow of grief, but grief takes her own sweet time. She will not be rushed or cajoled into leaving prematurely, no matter how much I want her to, and I suppose that is as it should be.  After all, it takes as long as it takes. The deeper the wound, the longer the time to heal.

Despite all of this, I am thankful to say that times like this are much fewer and farther between, and are much shorter in duration when they do find me.  I know that I've healed a lot.  I know that I hope to love again someday.  I know that my life is in His hands and that He sees all things.  What looks like darkness can be suddenly and instantly turned to light just by the presence of God because He IS light.  I keep running into the scripture that says God cares so much for us that He keeps all our tears in a bottle. Can you imagine? He knows each and every single tear. It makes me wonder how many bottles are labeled with my name! I'm pretty sure there are lots, but let me be content in knowing that even though there may be many, I'm sure there are less with my name than some.  I was blessed to love and be loved, and honored to be there for Bill as he entered eternity.  I was exactly where I was meant to be.  So where do I belong now?  Honestly, I'm not really sure about that.  Discovering who you are all over again is a long process but at least I have a beginning. I know I am a child of God, that I am in the palm of His hand, and that He is faithful to complete what he has begun in me.

Party of One

Happy Day-After-the-4th to everyone. We've celebrated, made noise, eaten BBQ, and sang patriotic songs - sometimes making up the words as we exuberantly sang along. Maybe you did some or all of these things to celebrate our nation's independence. After all, what a great thing to celebrate!

For me the weekend was a little more quiet than that. I was a party of one this holiday weekend, though I did watch fireworks on TV last night.  It sounds kind of sad to say I was alone on the 4th but, truth be told, I didn't have to be alone.  I could have made plans, could have gone somewhere, could have this, could have that...but I didn't. See, for 15 years I was the one who chose to go along with the plans that my husband came up with. Not to say that I never had any plans but, in general, he was the extrovert. He was the guy who made friends with you in 30 seconds in the elevator, the guy who just couldn't stop asking you questions, the guy who was forever curious about EVERYTHING and especially EVERYBODY! I'm not like this. I admire this personal trait greatly but I don't have it. I am very interested in you and will intently listen to whatever you may choose to generously share with me, but I won't be asking you 20 (personal) questions until I've know you for a few weeks, maybe longer. So, needless to say, my whole social game is now askew. Gone are the days where I stand next to Bill and get to know someone just because he can't stop talking to them.  Now it's up to me, and I'm not really sure what to do with that.  Death was like this big bully that kicked me out of my comfortable, cozy nest too soon and now I'm on the ground with wings that don't work.

So, I know I have to grow, to redevelop, to - oh, here comes the cliche - stretch my wings and fly. Does anyone else hear Bette Midler singing somewhere in the background or is that just me? But in all seriousness,  it's hard to change a lifetime of habits. There's a kid in me somewhere saying, "I don't wanna!" What a tug of war!  I think part of me deep down is still waiting for Bill to burst through the door with his grand plans and  that excited twinkle in his eye, and when it doesn't happen I sometimes just deflate into my own bubble of apathy for a little while. This sets off the correlated condition of Holiday Denial - my name for when I know in my mind that a holiday is coming, but it never quite becomes a reality to me until the day is upon me, at which point it is usually too late to make any kind of plans, thus my ending up alone. HOWEVER, (yes, this is the part where things start to look better) I think this is a natural part of the grief and in its own time will work itself out. As far as me becoming an extrovert, it's not likely to happen. After all, it's not who I am, but I can make conscious decisions that bring about the results that I am looking for. As time goes on I will better balance my artistic introversion with my semi-social butterfly, and if I actually call you on the telephone, feel honored - you must be one of my very BEST friends!