Just Love More

It has been a very long time since I've written. Sure, I've had a lot of commentary--widowed or otherwise--run through my head over the past few years. Still, I just haven't been able to write. It's been too difficult.

Maybe it's because I've been busy. I HAVE been busy. That an excuse most give for why they don't do "such and such" and it can usually be met with validity. But maybe it's because I have been stuck. Stuck isn't a good feeling. I think I've determined that it is sometimes a necessary stage. A requirement.

While I've never proclaimed to have all this grief stuff figured out, I most certainly knew the steps early on and knew the circular pattern of thoughts that can coexist with grief. For a long time I danced around the meat of it all. When you KNOW that grief must be felt and explored and understood but you don't know HOW to get to the meat of it all....

I can't put it into words. I guess I just didn't know how to open that Pandora's box. How to feel it all deeply. How does love and grief and living life to the fullest again coexist?

In Melissa-like fashion, I decided I needed to cross off some of the to-dos on my list. I decided I needed to see a grief counselor. A therapist. Someone to fix me. Or maybe not fix, but just to help me get to the places in my heart that have been untouchable. I didn't know what I needed to fix and I needed an unbiased observer to guide me. Because we can't fix something unless it feels broken. Now, my heart wasn't broken--it was SHATTERED. I didn't think it was possible to fix something that has been so very smashed.

Have you ever watched someone have a bloody nose? Like a bad one? They'll cup their hands together underneath their face, so as to not let any blood slip through the cracks of their fingers, not wanting to drip anything on carpet or flooring until they can get to a trash can, a sink, or a basin. I think that's how I've felt. That I have tried so desperately to hold onto every little piece of my heart, of how it has been loved, and not wanting to drop any shards on the floor for fear that I won't survive otherwise. Instead I have built a wall around my heart. Not just any wall. Not a 4 foot chain-link fence to be hopped over. But a massive castle wall. Complete with a mote around it. I have put on a hard exterior because I'm just completely spent.

There's a thing that happens in widowhood. People might mistake it for bitterness, anger, or depression. But it truly isn't bitterness--or anger OR depression. Instead it is a high BS meter. When you come out of your fog, you see things and people for what they really are--often the fake, disingenuous, stupid, or just plain naive is magnified.

Or maybe not magnified. It's like getting into a car with the sound on the radio unknowingly turned to full blast until the key to the car is turned. It's joltingly BLARING. And I've learned that I have little to no patience for people who just don't get it. Which translates into...no patience for pretty much anyone. No love.

Over my 8 1/2 years of widowed life, I have seen miracles. Real miracles are usually those that are unspeakable. But they're real.

I think this is why it has been so very difficult.

It isn't about turning some magic key to finally say, "Ah-ha! Eureka!"

It isn't about one day waking up and being okay with those around me that irritate me by their fakeness.

It isn't about continuing to live a life that feels frustratingly exhausting with minimal joy.

It's about finding a way for grief and love to coexist.

And the only way for grief and love to coexist is to love more.
TO LOVE LIFE. To love people. To love truth. Eternal truth.

It is love that holds the drips that try to slip through my hands. It is love that stops the bleeding. It is love that heals the heart. Only love can heal wounds.

I think I finally get it--the quote that was on our wedding favors makes sense....

There is no remedy for love but to LOVE MORE. --Henry David Thoreau

We all need to be loved and want to love. Those that claim otherwise have either not experienced true love.

Or they're just lying. And have a mote around their heart.

This Valentine's Day, show love. Care about those around you. Not stupid fake love.