This past winter and early spring are maybe the most
difficult months I have spent in my life.
I know that my husband and son have been gone for just over 18 and 15
months respectively, but I’ve shared that this year has been harder. I had been warned it would be that way, by
people I know, love and respect. But no
one can prepare you. So I’ve wallowed, I’ve
cried, I’ve held epic pity parties, and I’ve just existed. What few positive things I had done to take
care of myself i.e. exercise and diet, went totally by the wayside. I’ve discovered many, many things about
myself, other people and my husband and son, good, bad and indifferent. For anyone who has already been down this
road I am walking, knows that it takes a TON of energy to grieve. Suddenly it’s harder than ever to peel
yourself from your bed in the mornings, to do the things that are good for you,
that you need, because the reality is you just don’t care. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean you have stopped loving those
who you have always loved that are still here; in my mind, conversely so. I cherish them more than ever, because I have
learned all too well how fragile life really is. But the distraction those loved ones provide
during their texts, phone calls, visits, can’t cover the span of vacant time
when your mind wanders and where your heart inevitably returns.
I made up my mind not so long ago – 43 days ago to be exact –
that I was going to do my best to start the days with my best foot forward, to
start my days with a positive inspiration, to plan for a future I had no idea I’d
need to dream about. And it has
helped. It truly has. People who love you, who watch you suffer,
want so badly to be able to help. They
want you to move on, move forward because when you love someone you don’t want
to see them hurt. It’s been a fight,
because I’m not healed, but I want to live and love with purpose. I want to present an example someone could
point to and use impressive words like “strong”, “inspirational”, “courageous”,
“grace” and “dignity”. I’ll be lucky if
I get “clean” and “on time”, but I’ll keep trying.
With the recent death of Muhammed Ali, I remember sitting
with my dad on the couch and watching him fight – when he was Lew
Alcindor. He was sometimes thought of as
very arrogant in those days, but didn’t say a thing he couldn’t back up. He also had a wonderfully dry sense of humor
which his eyes couldn’t belie. After he
converted to Muhammed Ali, matured, aged and battled illness which had to have
been more than devastating to a man who had relied on his body, his mind was
still strong and not just viable, but witty and playful. Again, you could see it in his eyes. I thought of his courage with his battle as
he was remembered on TV. I was touched
deeply by the expression in his eyes. He
wasn’t winning his battle with Parkinson’s, but he didn’t stop living. He just changed the way he did it to suit
himself. And I thought “There’s a role
model I can use”.
I had some really rough moments this past weekend. I felt like they had the potential to be huge
setbacks in the small progress I have made.
But I’ve decided that it was just one match in my career. I’m in training and I can keep
improving. No matter how positively I
think, or how hard I work, the pain of not being able to speak with, touch or
hug my husband or son is knife-like and it will cause me to pause, react and
heal some more. I’ll wear those scars
like medals of honor, for the men they represent are worth them. Or maybe my better metaphor for this particular
day is that they will be my champion’s belt.
Maybe one day I’ll feel like floating like a butterfly and the sting of
sorrow will fade. Here’s to you Mr. Ali.
No comments:
Post a Comment