This week I read a story about a man named Jim Thorpe. He was a Native American from Oklahoma who competed in the 1912 Olympics. He represented the U.S. in track and field events. On the morning of his competition, he found his shoes had been stolen. He managed to find two mismatched shoes in the garbage can, but because one was too big, he had to wear extra socks on that foot. Despite the circumstances, he went on to win two gold medals that day… two!
Now that’s an amazing story! As I have pondered it this week, it has hit me two different ways…
First, it was a stark reminder that Bruce has left me in a world where people still mistreat each other and justify it to themselves because of their own fears about race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, and the list goes on and on. I see it everywhere… I see it on Face Book, Twitter, our neighborhood website, the news, and radio talk show hosts.
When Bruce was here, it wasn’t as prevalent on the internet, (or maybe we just weren’t on there enough to notice). But we still saw it on the news or heard it on the radio, and he would shake his head and wonder out loud where all this was heading… I guess, now we know.
I have to be honest… For me, it hurts when the people I care about post things that basically say, “Think like me or you are stupid.” Seriously?? I don’t think like everyone I know. (Who does?) These are things that most of these people would never say to my face. So why is it okay to post it on the internet? When did we stop respecting each other’s differences? When did we lose the idea that all of these different opinions are what actually make us stronger? Because when we actually co-operate and collaborate to reach a solution, we find ways to respect everyone in the picture… That is my hope.
So many times in my journal, I have asked Bruce how I am supposed to deal with all of this. And why did he leave me to deal with it alone? At times like that, this world feels like a scary place, and I wish he were still here by my side… holding me tight, and reminding me to see the good, when I really just want to hide.
The second way this story hit me was in being a widow…
When Bruce died so suddenly, it was like waking up to find my shoes stolen. I needed Bruce just as Jim Thorpe needed his shoes. Instead, I have had to find other ways to get through life. I am sure there are many times when I look like I have on mismatched shoes… And at times, they definitely feel like they are way too big. But then I look at where I was and where I am now, and I realize… I am doing it. I am still running the race, and I believe I am doing a pretty good job.
In fact, while this blog has become my safe space to talk candidly about “my stolen shoes” and what it feels like to “run in shoes that don’t feel like mine and are way too big,” if you know me personally, you also know I don’t dwell on my grief in public. (Or at least, I haven’t done so in years.) In fact, I won’t mention it or talk about it unless I am asked directly. It is one of those things I have learned to keep to myself…
Instead, I have chosen to keep running… sometimes I trip and fall, but each time, I get back up and keep going… There was a time, when I wasn’t sure I could go on… but I have. There are still days when I feel lost and alone… but then someone reaches out, helps me up, and I realize I’m okay.
Jim Thorpe’s race wasn’t over, and mine isn’t either… I can do this… I know I can… I still have some “gold to win” in this life!
Everyone deals with loss, grief and life in their own way. We all find answers and comfort in various sources… That is what makes us all unique and different. It is funny how a story which took place over a century ago can still touch my heart and remind me that I’m doing okay. I know all I can do is pray for peace and the strength to make it through each day… one at a time.
Does any of this sound familiar to you? If so, would you be willing to share your story with us? There may be someone out there who needs to hear exactly what you have to say…
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Linda,
You just keep “hitting the nail”; I, often feel, if I were to change Bruce’s name for Bob,
and if, I had your talent for great express of feeling’s in writing, it would be my story.
Thank you, again. Pat
I am so glad there is someone else out there who understands. {{hugs}}