Death. The loss of a beloved person. Spouse. Friend. Relative. Anyone who held a piece of your heart.
But what we really lose, especially when losing the one you had built a life and expected to grow old with, is far more than the person.
Finishing up a workday, I pick up my phone to call him. He’s not there.
Waking up, going to sleep, I look at his side of the bed. It’s empty.
The kids. Oh the kids. He’s not there to dry their tears, play with them, pick them up, hold them, teach them, read to them, love on them like only a father could.
The times we went out with other couples, those are gone too. Because he’s gone.
Everything that made us, is gone. We are gone.
Now it’s just me.
And I’ve got to learn how to live this new life.
I’ve closed the book and placed it on the shelf. It sits there, ready to be remembered at any time. But it remains closed.
It doesn’t sit alone though. I never saw the other books beside it. For 20 years I was engrossed in his, but as I gaze upward, I see so many others on the shelf.
Ready to be opened. Ready to be read and experienced and cherished.
I may have been left empty, but I wasn’t left empty handed.
My daughter and I share sushi together for the first time. Dear friends offer to watch my children, bring us dinner on Thursdays, take them to school Friday mornings.
The day ends and I exchange sweet words before bed with someone whose bed is also empty like mine.
You see, we may have lost. Closed the book on that part of our lives. An end is only an end because there is a beginning just ahead.
Look up. There are others on the shelf ready to be read.
Let’s open one today and see what this new life has for us. đź’™
#laughterafterdeath #lookingintherearviewmirror #wanderingwidow #widow #itsme #lifebeginsnow