For the last 10 days I’ve been training for my job, far away from my home. At some point I had to become gainfully employed to support myself. I know it was the best thing for me to do.
I feel lucky that my instructors are fun, kind and compassionate people. They’ve made this trip more bearable because being away from home is just not what I wanted or needed so shortly after Jack’s death. But life goes on and sometimes we have to pull on our big girl (or boy) pants and go on with it.
Being in a hotel room has amplified my sadness. I can’t pick up the phone or Skype with Jack about my day, laugh about teaching an old dog new tricks or even complain about the heat. We use to talk about everything and like any long-married couple we understood each other. But I can’t talk to him… and my loneliness is heartbreaking even to me. So I cry.
The truth is that I am OK with my tears, with my sadness and even with being alone. I had a wonderful marriage to the love of my life. I was blessed and am blessed for having Jack in my life for 36 years. What I am experiencing now is, well, just part of life. And isn’t that why we are here in the first place? To have this physical experience? There was never a promise that this life would be all roses and sunshine anymore that it would be all doom and gloom.
I need to glean every bit of experience that I can in this lifetime and my pain is part of that. I don’t have to like it but somehow I’m going to figure out how to appreciate it. At some point I’ll be grateful for all of it… the tears, the sadness, and the loneliness… even if at the moment I cuss the seemingly unfairness of it.
As I sit here, alone, at this moment my promise to myself is that I won’t stop living because I’ve loved and lost. I will live because I was blessed to have Jack in my life and to witness the courage of his life. I will live because that is what I came here to do. I will be happy again because I know that is the choice I will make for me. All of this makes me profoundly human. And I’m OK with that too.
As always, Cheryl
Sweet soul, my teacher, my friend, I am deeply moved by your honesty and insight. I admire your courage, and I am thankful for your trust in sharing your process with me–with us. I am so moved by your model of complete acceptance regarding human nature. You are remarkable, Cheryl, and you are loved. (Joshua speaks: While your ability to converse with Jack has changed beyond recognition, please continue to talk to him. He hears you.”)