Looking Inside
I woke to memories of rain, but a quick look outside said it was only the wind. It’s bad enough to wake up at 3:30 but even worse to discover the sound pulling you out of a deep sleep was nothing you yearned for. But isn’t that just like life? It flirts with you, gets your hopes up, and then teaches you a bitter lesson. Onward. I’m sure it will rain one day soon.
As I laid in bed, however, my mind decided to wander, and it went poking around memories of Christmas. This was sixth since my wife passed away. The first one in 2020 was understandably minimalistic. But I went all in the three years following as if she were still here. Then I did nothing for two years because the family gathered in Virginia at the home of my daughter. No matter where I go next year, however, I think I’ll decorate the homestead again. I guess I just had to figure out what it was that I wanted to do for Christmas. Now I know.
I think its that part of the post death journey where you rediscover who you are as a person. There’s a lot of compromise in marriage, especially a long-lived one, and when the demands are gone you get to decide for yourself how you want to carry on. Some things you’ll keep doing because they make sense, but others will fall by the wayside. Your time is once again your own. It’s a freedom of sorts, and I’ll admit to finding it a tiny bit exhilarating, which some may see as wrong. But I don’t think grief is meant to be eternal, because living is about having hope and the best I can tell I’m still alive.