Thursday, May 1, 2014

Number 9

being a life-long Beatles fan, I thought I would entitle this day, which would have been my ninth anniversary, accordingly.

Sometimes, I get a bit dizzy with the pain, loss, and insanity of it all.

I'd like to get to official double digits

It doesn't matter.  Number 9, number 9, number 9....twisted and strange and clangy.

I'd like to put in an official complaint about the whole, "squeaky wheel gets the grease" thing, because it seems like what that really means is that the only time anyone says anything is when things are going wrong.  Which is to say, I would like to officially ask the universe to find a way to bring to the attention to the powers that be the fact that I do an amazing job.  I did not just lose my husband, which is hard enough.  I lost my best friend, the only family that showed me unfailingly that there was support and love no matter what, the father to my children, my helper, my partner.  And I have three little ones, two dogs, three cats, plus a household to take care of...nothing is done to the level of amazing.  But I adore my kids and they know it.  I will let them see me grieve and give me comfort.  Because it is what our world consists of and to hide from it would hurt them.  I absolutely despise the fact that people think I would do anything other than be the best teacher I can be.  If I am in a dark place, that does NOT mean I am not strong enough to be professional, loving, guiding, inspiring...I feel like so much of my world, of the Western World, needs the lesson of the Mustard Seed...to know that all of us are touched with pain and darkness, loss and grief and hurt and fear...these things do NOT make us less or unhealthy or weak or even messed up.  They make us, well, ALIVE.  The only time we avoid these things, is when we die.  Darkness, yes.  Pain and fear and loss and loneliness?  Of course.  I am a widow. I am only 40 and my husband was only 45.  We have three small kids.  Of course there are the dark things.  But damn-it, my heart is strong.  Full of the desire to love and grow.  John would not have loved me if I did not have this in me.  I would not love myself the way I do...I fought for so long to see my strength and my independence and to believe in the love I have inside.  I don't have to fight for that anymore.  It's there and there is no denying it.  I will never again question these things about myself.

But why must life present to me situations to, yet again, question and doubt the motives of others?  Why do so MANY of us create closed, strange, petty places, where expressions of caring don't go direct to the individual?  Where you don't go to someone struggling and offer help and support, love and friendship?  Instead, people judge and report, like we really do live in 1984.

How can we make our world what we wish it could be?  The Buddha says that (as far as I am able to understand in my limited experience) we must live what we wish our world would be...in that small and consistent way, we make it what we wish.  I'm trying so hard...and I see many many lovely people who offer that to me, but they felt this way before me...my actions seem to change nothing.  More simply, I find others who agree with me.  It is akin to the time when I canvassed- you were frustrated if you looked for people whose minds' you could change...instead, you kept knocking on doors till you found the few who agreed with you...

I understand that we will not all agree.  But why can we not find ways to acknowledge strength, to offer comfort, to create community??

Sigh.  Anyway.

My ninth anniversary.  Last year, there were friends all over and we had fires and roasted marshmallows and John was in his hospital bed in our living room.  It hurts so deeply when I think about how I had to go from seeing him on the trampoline, bouncing and flipping and amazing me, to unable to walk in the space of a couple years.  He was one of the best people I have ever had the honor of knowing, and knowing that he loved me, that he chose to make new people with me through the love of our touch...THAT is an honor.  And I promise I will try to allow that to carry me through the hard times.  I miss you, John.  I'm so deeply lonely without you.  I don't know how I will find someone who can touch me the same way, physically or emotionally.  I truly HATE that I must try, but I know I must...I deserve love.  And you believed that too.  If it could be you, I would chose that a hundred times over and over throughout time.  I can't have that.  So, I also promise to never ever let you go completely.  You are half of our babies.  You were the one who tamed me deeply and truly.

I will hold onto that, when all else frustrates me.  Thank you for everything.  Happy anniversary to my favorite grown up human being.   You have my heart forever.