This is a tricky Pyrex situation. Clearly we have too many pieces and the extraction of one item can lead to a crash of glass or at least require some careful navigating. But each piece was collected over time and has just the right shape or a favorite pattern. When you combine households (and one or more of you liked to collect Pyrex), being brave is the only option and you reach carefully for the right piece – Dare. Things might crash – Truth.
In my last blog I mentioned that I was remarried. My phone was full of messages that day – like WHAT? My answer was I KNOW CRAZY RIGHT? The truth is I stood up from that hospice bed and said I would never leave my house again, never talk to anyone again. Remarry? Never.
Fact – I loved my late husband. I still do. Our marriage was so rich and colorful and in the end, so profound. I could no more imagine loving again and remarrying than I could flying to the moon. Not possible. Truth. But I did.
I wasn’t looking, wasn’t ready, wasn’t prepared, was wearing both our wedding bands on the day when my new husband appeared, literally, with the tools to rebuild the deck and the skill and kindness to love both my grieving heart and my grateful spirit. A combination of magical events brought us together. I kept it quiet and sort of went underground with it all. I didn’t dare share it. Too precious. I was and still am so protective.
Because the truth is that it not easy to love and grieve and honor both and find your way and not feel like you are watching a split screen. And every bit of energy is directed at accepting loss and accepting love and understanding that the one doesn’t exist without the other. I was afraid to talk about it, write about it. I didn’t know how to explain that I couldn’t wait to see him but would cry all the way home. Or that when he brought cow manure and fertilized my late husband’s asparagus patch it was the most beautiful gift. Truth.
Dare I tell you that the first time I put my head on his chest and heard his heart beat I wept with the memory of the last time I listened to a heart beat – and it stopped…. Truth is it was beautiful and so incredibly painful. Truth and dare, right there. Love and loss and love and loss and fear and joy and oh my, sometimes I am just so very tired!
If you felt like me when you lost your spouse, if you are a grieving reader looking for support, I was afraid you would think less of my love, like I didn’t grieve, like this can’t even be true – what bullsh**. So I held back from writing about it.
If you lost your spouse and you fall in love again know this – at least this is true for me – you will love better because you KNOW. You know what it is like say goodbye. What does Megan Trainor say? – I am gonna love you like I am gonna to lose you, I am gonna to hold you like I am saying goodbye…. Listen to the song here.
But what is true as well is that I wouldn’t have dared if I thought I would ever be less than what I was in my first marriage. No compromising, no if/ands/buts on that – truth! I need to be loved the same way. Love me like you are going to lose me. Hold me like I am saying goodbye.
Telling the truth is how you do it, how you carry yourself and give and receive love again. I was more honest with myself and with him then I ever could have been when I was younger. I had nothing to hide and nothing to lose so here I am and this is what I think I know and this is what scares me and I don’t even know if I can do this. Truth and dare! It is not for the faint of heart. The most beautiful moments can bring me right back to the most painful moments. And every step closer could feel like a step further away.
And the fear of losing again can weave its way into the most basic daily routines or conversations or behaviors and I sometimes I don’t recognize myself. So I circle back to the truth – I am afraid. Then I dare to do it anyway.
I wrote a poem called Grief (first line: I was waiting for you) and posted it in my January blog Click here to read that post. I said that soon I would write a poem called Love. It didn’t take long for it to bubble up and I wrote it late one night when the magic of love sent from above made me reach for my ipad and start typing. I dare to share it…
I was waiting for you,
ready when you were.
I was the warm April air,
a green Ford truck,
and a deck needing to be rebuilt.
(Truth is I was here all along
I know where the light gets in).
I was the tools unloaded in the garage,
the flash of a red dog,
and a voice outside your window.
I saw you making your way.
You saw me too-
looked right at me.
I know, I know, in disbelief.
But I kept showing up,
like asparagus in the spring,
and eggs every morning.
I was the windows rolled down,
singing on the highway,
the truth from his lips,
(tunes he whistled),
and the secrets you let out.
I kept you up at night,
distracted at work.
I wasn’t quiet, I wouldn’t be still.
We were restless,
so I hurried you home,
couldn’t get you there fast enough.
I was coffee at the counter
miles through the woods,
the thought of a kiss.
You were watchful, I was fearless!
So I came down the hill,
met you in the garden,
I was the rich earth,
the seeds you planted,
and the rain we waited for.
I was the 12 foot flowers, yes yes that was me,
all of it.
Waiting for you.