Written April 24th, 2002

Again, someone said something to me that made me stop and look back at my life, and, again, I see myself in a new light.

I have never been a person that let go of anything.  I did try to learn once, when I first heard the word "terminal", understanding that at some point my being willing to give up or needing to hold on wouldn't amount to a hill of beans.  It would be out of my hands.  He would be taken away.  My counselor told me that I had to continue to fall in love with him, just as I had done for the 30 years of our relationship.  He said the pain I'd have to face once he was gone would be small compared to the guilt I'd feel if I backed away.  So I tried to strike a balance, but I couldn't find it.  I was too overwhelmed with the day to day battle of insurance companies, doctors and surgeries; weeding out what was valid and what was hype about diet, guarding him against exposure to infection, struggling with his family, my family, and tugging away (from him) the things that had always been his responsibility, and that he was no longer able to do, to spend any energy fighting myself and who I was by nature.  And by nature I was a all-or-nothing person.  Letting go felt like giving up, giving in, and I couldn't do that.  I was fighting for his life, for the quality of his life.  Maybe had it been my own life that was in the balance I would have been able to let go, but it wasn't, it was his.  And his future had to be the best I could help him live, for however long that life would be.  Living at that level of intensity affected every aspect of my life.  So I held on to everything.

After his death I came to realize that I had fought for him for so long that I had forgotten how to live for myself.  Forgotten how to plan, dream, wish, or hope for anything that was not tied to keeping him alive.   So I simply tried to live the life he had planned for me, in the home he had insisted on buying for me, with the income he had provided for me.  And in doing so I was holding on.  To what I'm not sure.  Maybe to him.  Maybe to the life we had together.  Maybe to what was left of myself.  What I am sure of is that if finances hadn't forced me into filing bankruptcy I'd probably still be there, still trying to live the life he laid out for me.

But finances did force me into giving up that home, and my life there.  And the new life that I was to lead felt somewhere down the road.  The great unknown.  A life that, on one hand I was not prepared to enter into, and that, on the other, I craved with all my heart.  Crippled by fear and heartache I stayed there, in between. I held on to what I could take with me, of my possessions, and in my heart, and I began to walk the fine line between my past and my tomorrows.  If it's possible I 'moved on' and held on at the same time. Sometimes that moving on was made in leaps, sometimes in baby steps, sometimes in desperation.  However big or small the steps they were a constant struggle,  but standing where I was felt  safe, or more likely safer, for a very long time, so there I stayed.  I told myself I was trying very hard to make myself a life, to live what he could not have, to BE someone in my own right.  I don't think I was very successful.  I floundered around a lot.  I took most of my steps into my tomorrow looking back over my shoulder at my yesterdays.  My heart still too full of yearning for the love I had lost to put all my effort into the life I had now.  So my life felt like leftovers.  Leftovers and fear are what I made my life to be, because I was afraid to go on without his love to back me up, keep me safe.  I did have some victories, but they always ended up feeling hallow, because, at bed time, when we had always shared our day, there was no him to share them with.

I don't know exactly when I began to experience real success at living.  I know that I had times of being proud of what I was becoming, but each success felt short lived, because of where I stood.  My heart aching for him to be alive, wanting our life together back, and trying to make today work, trying to be successful at being a Rea without Aubrey at the same time.  Then, at some point over the last two years, I forced myself to not look back anymore.  My heart needed to hope, my spirit needed to dream.  But in taking this step I became confused.   I felt guilt nagging at the choices I was making.  I knew I had no reason for guilt, I didn't ask to be left behind, alive, but I did feel it.  I forced myself away from that too, knowing that to delve into it would only serve to keep me tied to a yesterday that was gone forever.  This life I am living is so vibrant, so full of laughter and goodness, that I felt I owed it to both of us to try and make a success of it.  I kept telling myself HE would love to have life, and here I have it, and I am sorry that I do.  I keep wanting my old life back when HE would give anything to have any life.  It took all of my energy to live it, to deal with what was happening, so I put aside those feelings, and faced my today's with all the stubbornness that I could muster. 

And I've been pretty much successful at it too.. I've gone on this way, refusing to accept any guilt for being alive, refusing to delve into why it's there, in the back of my heart and mind, burdening my spirit.  And then I saw a friend say: He is spanning two worlds, one foot in yesterday, one in today.  And all of a sudden I saw myself, standing with one foot in one world and the other in another. I was, for the most part, happy, but no wonder I tired so easily.  No wonder I could not find peace and tranquility, no wonder I was not content.  I became angry at myself for not being as far into my today as I thought I was, and frustrated at myself for not having seen why I'm not.  Every since I saw those words I've been trying to work up the guts to take that final step into the world that is my today, all the while confused about why I have drawn back from taking it.

Walking home from the store today I had a moment of clarity.  I realized that accepting this life that is my today conflicted with what I was hanging on to because somehow wishing he hadn't died  (which I could not change) became the same as wishing for my life with him back (which I felt was harmful for me to continue to do).   All of a sudden I understood.  That's why guilt burdened my days, that's why I had been hanging on to yesterday.  I stopped right where I stood, out there on the street, and stared ahead, not seeing anything but that thought.  I was filled with awe, and in my heart I said Thank You Lord, and the confusion that has been tormenting me fled.

It's a thought that keeps coming into my heart, making it swell, bringing tears to my eyes.  It's OK for me to move on.  It's OK for me to be content.  I understand now that the biggest guilt was knowing that I wouldn't have this life if he were alive.  I understand now that the biggest hurdle is accepting that my life isn't being paid for by his death.  My life just is.  Moving on doesn't mean that I give up wishing he were alive.  Moving on doesn't mean I go into my life without his love.  Understanding this shows me it's OK for me to live here, in my today, and accepting this is the biggest gift I could give us both.  I can no longer stay where I was, between two worlds, half dead, half alive.  By stepping into my today I bring memories of him into today unburdened by his death, and I take him into my tomorrows with all the love (and fun) he brought into my life when he was alive.  By stepping into my today I give us both the gift of life.  God was such an important part of out lives, so realizing this instantly brings the Lord back into my life in a more solid form.. He is no longer the God I pray to out of heartache, but a living, breathing presence in my life.

It is such a big moment that each time it comes to me I am overwhelmed.  I sit here and stare at these words and I take a deep breath and hold it, almost afraid that if I let it out I will find some reason to not let this happen.  And, finally, I let it out, and breath in again, slow and easy, and I let that breath out, and mentally I brace myself for what I believe is going to be an enormous step.  I breath in some more, and out some more, stalling, afraid to let go, to make this final step into not comparing this life with what used to be.  I ask myself Can I do this? As if in answer to that question the late afternoon sun casts a ray of sunlight directly on me, sitting here at my computer, and it gives me strength.  And I breath out a sigh of relief.  I am here.

And, again, I say thank you Lord.  Because without Him I don't know that I could have ever gotten to this place.

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I believe that everything that has happened in my life happened for a reason.. Life gave Aubrey who he needed to fight this battle for him, and understanding this, and accepting it, fills me with gratitude. I do not regret one single thing that prepared me for that battle.  Sometimes I do get impatient with myself tho, and sometimes I do get frustrated, feeling that life is doling out the understanding I need way to slowly.  But I am going to try to accept that this understanding came to me at the time it was supposed to.

I also understand that this may just be another step in healing.    Each of us heals in our own way, and in our own time. The step I took was not such a big step after all.  In fact, like most of my steps this last five years, it was a baby step. I also know that without my friends and family I wouldn't be who I am today, nor where I am.  Because of who they are I am free to be who I am.  To each of you that has helped me realize that I offer my heartfelt thanks.  I feel as if a whole world's burdens has been removed from my shoulders.  I am content.

Added September 2002

We are the architects of our existence. 

We can choose to spend the rest of our days on this earth full of pain and regret,

or we can choose to live a life we are proud of.

Building a life after the loss of a spouse isn't easy.

The loss itself robs us of the ability to see a tomorrow

because we cannot conceive even today without their love to support us.

But when we choose to live instead of die we honor those that have been taken away from us.

When we choose to live this life we find ourselves in with determination, we bring our loved ones into our today's.

When we find we are able to live this life with joy we bring back to life the memories they helped build.

And, finally, when we are able to experience those memories with smiles and laughter

we give them what they shared with us:

Life.