Time changes nothing on its own…
That is my job now.
This is a journey.
It is mine…
I must own it to survive it.
~ Linda, September 15, 2013
When I left my teaching career and joined the corporate world, travel quickly became a part of the job. Over the years I have traveled all over the continental U.S. – sometimes with others, most times alone. While this past year corporate travel has been restricted, either alone or with my little family, we have still rented homes and traveled here and there. We travel by car, keep our distance and are safe, but we do it because we just seem to have a need for a change of scenery. Sometimes we have gone to places that are so familiar it is almost like going home, and other times we have no idea where we are going or how to get there.
Without fail, we seem to always have a wonderful time. Yet, I can say without question that after being away for a while, it is always a treat to come back home. However, as anyone grieving can attest, the journey home isn’t always an easy one either…
I know… This is simply the way life is. Life is filled with journeys – true journeys and metaphorical journeys. It is how we grow and learn and develop. It is how we discover new things about ourselves and how we expand our lives. In fact, when we suffer loss, what is it called? Exactly – the world calls it a “grief journey.”
Like all journeys, there is something to be learned along this path… Unlike other journeys, we did not choose this one. It is not a path anyone would willingly take, but we weren’t given an option. And to make it a little bit more difficult, the only choices are to move forward or stand still. So many times, over the past few years, I have hesitated… not quite willing to take the next step. Eventually, though, I have managed to take a breath and put one foot in front of the other… moving tentatively until I get my bearings.
Last week, I wrote about when Bruce and I met while cruising in the Virgin Islands. So, it only seemed fitting that through the years of our marriage, we did a lot of traveling together. Like any journey, you learn a lot about a person when you travel with them. Bruce and I were no different. We learned right away that traveling in a car for any extended period of time was not the best idea. Why? Well, Bruce did not eat or drink while driving, and he liked it quiet. I, on the other hand, like to eat, drink, sing, talk, play games, etc. (In other words, I like to be entertained.) In fact, it was during one such trip from Michigan to Alabama that I learned Bruce didn’t like opera. I was driving and he was napping… So, to stay awake, I sang opera for hours. Guess who was not amused… Go figure! In all honestly, though, it was a good learning experience that we laughed about for years!
Several times I have written about the night Bruce died and the ride back home from the hospital – alone. It still feels like just yesterday… I can remember thinking that this would be my life now… always coming home alone to no one – just an empty house. What I did not realize was the enormity of what that would entail. Even all these years later, I can say that there are still days that can feel quite daunting. So much so that sometimes I find myself hesitating before I even get out of my car and walk inside.
The expanse of this lone journey began to dawn on me in the early weeks after Bruce’s death. I would turn the corner and see Bruce’s truck in the driveway. My first instinct was happiness and excitement. Bruce was home! Then, just as quickly, it would hit me full force and I would remember… Bruce was not home; no one was home. The only reason his truck sat there for as long as it did was because I couldn’t bring myself to sell it. Yet, even months later after I did (finally) sell his truck, I learned that coming home still wasn’t any easier.
In fact, there are still days when I find myself wishing with my whole being that he would be there to greet me when I walk through the door. While I no longer cry or breakdown, I think there will always be a part of me that secretly wishes for all of this to be a dream… That somehow I will wake up and he will be there waiting to greet me with a hug and a smile.
Right now, with my daughter and grandson here, it is easier to come on inside. There is almost always someone here to shout “hello” from another room, (although I know that will not always be the case). I know, the time will come again when I will come home to a house that is (again) quiet and empty. I am sure I will (at times) find myself sitting in the driveway for a few moments gathering my thoughts, my emotions (and my courage) before I go inside. Yet, I also know I will just as quickly remember how blessed I am to have shared this space with Bruce at all… And to still be able to live here… in this space that was ours. This space where I so often feel his presence and remember the love and life we shared.
I guess what I am saying is that through the years, I have learned to look (more often) at what I still have versus what I don’t. I am learning to look for the blessings and be thankful for them, which has been my way of moving forward through this journey.
We all know grief is challenging, and with some days or scenarios harder than others. Sometimes this journey can feel like a lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. However, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. When we open our hearts to one another and take a chance, we can survive whatever lies ahead. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.
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