It’s on mornings like this, when the house is quiet and I am alone with my thoughts, that a soft sadness envelopes me.
Don’t feel sorry for me, I am not looking for attention; just sharing a part of my life with you, as we bloggers do. Don’t be burdened by the thought that you must say something kind and comforting in the comments, you don’t. There is no worldly comfort for this and I imagine there shouldn’t be. This type of pain is God’s territory.
And this process is about trusting God and the spiritual changes that come with such a significant change in one’s life.
Moving forward in one’s life after such a loss is difficult, always. Not like before when change was uncomfortable, maybe even painful and resisted; no nothing like the ease of that.
The perspective has changed.
In the quiet I experience the changes in my life both physically, tangibly and inwardly. The full human affect. They become more real, more apart of me, as I move forward to who I am without him.
He was such an integrated part of who I was, and who I am, still. Though even after only eight and a half months that seems to be fading into the background. And while that is a good sign that I am moving right along and well, there is an acute sadness that wants to be guilt.
We, no one, is who we were yesterday.With each passing moment, each morning sunrise, we are someone completely new. Our core self, our spirit, remains intact and unchanged. But the part of us made up of our morals and values – those environmental settings built into us by our parents and cultures and religions; those are changeable, those are the things that move and adjust along with us on this plane of life. The things that change about us, if we allow it.
Our minds change. Our perspectives change.
After the loss of my other half I realize that some of those environmental and family cultural things have changed. Don’t misunderstand me here, those who know me know, that I am vastly different minded than the majority of my family; and I say majority even when I have found no one amongst my siblings, cousins or extended family who is of the same mind as I am. I don’t cling to those things that families clings to; as if I would lose who I am if I didn’t cling to the fact that I am just like everyone else in my family.
Reminding me that I will not lose myself with the loss of my husband.
I trust God and with that trust comes an ever flowing change of who I am to who I am in Christ.
Of late I don’t resist change. I’ve come to know, in this time of me without him, that the old adage is absolute truth: Change is inevitable.
Not only that, but … Control. We literally have no control over this thing called our lives. Again, this is God’s territory.
If change is inevitable. If I am not who I was with him, if I am not who I was yesterday, but did nothing purposely to change me … do you see where I am going?
And so the sadness comes in. I guess to a certain extent I am different from some widows. I don’t feel guilty that I am moving forward because I don’t see that I have a choice. I am moving forward, because back is impossible. And I don’t think I realized it as impossible before I lost him.
Before I lost that vital part of who I was for the last 26 years.
Time for our children to grow into adults. Time for us to be finally considering a life for just the two of us …
Now it’s just a life for me … and that’s really sad. And it’s really okay.
… All at the same time.
It’s all so very much to take in, in one sitting of quiet. Yet, it is so very simple.
So in the quiet of this morning … with my warm cup of lemon and water, I look at the day and wonder.
Who will I be today? And I feel sad that it’s just me. And I miss him. And I get up, with thoughts of him helping my heart to beat and forge into this day.
Thanks for reading. God bless.