I love to hold tightly. To everything. Held tightly to my husband, my children, my love of the law, and my love of teaching. I don’t let go. I love hard and I work hard at loving hard.
Trouble comes when that death grip is loosened and death takes over.
The crushing feeling in your chest. The difficulty breathing when breathing is all you can do.
So how do we breathe when walking up a hill of sand? How do we let go of someone when they’ve let go of us? How do we unlock our hand and let him, her, whomever gently leave?
I remember when he took his last breath. We only knew it was his last because no more came. I saw his chest rise slightly, then…
And he was gone. I let him go. I let his hand slip out of mine.
The truth is, with 5 years of continuous treatment, he was gone before he was gone. I learned to let go long before I had to let go.
It was a slow transition, losing him. Letting him go wasn’t a suprise nor was it abrupt. It was gentle and peaceful. His hand slipped out of mine, and his soul slipped into eternity.
Death can be scary. Strangely, we are entertained by watching someone die on a television screen yet we refuse to entertain the thought that we ourselves will die.
But it’s not scary, this death thing. Having the privilege of being with someone as they pass is one of the most peaceful and beautiful things I have ever witnessed.
He left with peace in his soul. He left with dignity and grace. He left a family he loved so dearly, but left with the assurance that we would be okay.
And we are okay.
We live with the reminder of death daily, and being the physical embodiment of someone’s worse nightmare is freeing in an odd way.
I’ve faced what everyone fears. I am what everyone fears they could be.
Yet I choose to live. I raise and love my children, teach and practice what I love.
The chains of fear and death slipped away when he slipped away. Our fingers touched, and he disappeared.
And then…
I appeared. 💙
#laughterafterdeath #lookingintherearviewmirror #wanderingwidow #itsme #lifebeginsnow