Brighter and Lighter

 Journal entry

I saw this meme from Adam Grant and I realize that’s exactly where I am.

 I've worked really hard to stay in the present moment because it was too difficult to envision a bright future knowing Jim was terminally ill. Which reminds me of what I heard earlier this year – – that all love affairs come to a bad end. The couple either breaks up or one of them dies. 

Now that I know Jim is out of pain, I can look to the future in a new way. I will keep working on my healing, make new connections, do some things I have not been able to do.

I’m not a caretaker anymore. Wow – – first time I’ve said those words.

I have a gazillion things ahead of me to do, and it will take a long time.

I still have burdens – – but I know they will lighten.

I take everything Jim gave me and carry it into a brighter future.

2024 has been beyond challenging. Yet, I saw such goodness and generosity and care coming our way every day. We were given exactly what we needed in each moment, even those weeks we were separated. The world is full of amazing human beings, who are capable of caring, listening, reaching out, going the extra mile for us. It’s really astounding to look back and realize all those wonderful people who helped us. I’m talking about nurses and hospital staff and chaplains and social workers and hospice. 

I enter this phase with new vision and understanding. I carry with me the inspiration of all those people who helped us. I want to be one of those people for others.

I will find my place. And it will be exactly where I need to be.

Impermanence Everywhere

 

Words standing out to me today keep pointing to the impermanence of everything.

From Mary Oliver:

All things are meltable and replaceable. Not at this moment, but soon enough.

From David Whyte:

the vanishing point of the sun 

extinguishing time forever

I feel I’m floating in a sea of clouds, ever-changing sky, one second here, next one gone.

If this is supposed to be stabilizing, it sure doesn’t feel that way.

Or have I once again been turned away from faith, trust, and joy?

There’s a question for today. 

ADDENDUM

I got home from work and found this in my Facebook memories:

I don’t think it needs a comment from me.  

Cancun, Mexico

Inspired by "Pisac, Peru" by David Whyte

October 1987. I was 32, Jim was 45

 I remember the mornings I'd walk the surf,

while you drank coffee on the deck and watched

the sun rise over the Caribbean, then we'd saunter

over to the breakfast buffet that would hold us

until dinnertime.

I remember our resort, the restaurants and large

gray lizards on the lawn, the coolness of our room,

no news affecting our being, so much so the U.S. economy

crashed while we were gone and we had no idea.

I remember the now-called "Riviera Maya" as miles

of jungle, where the residents would flag the road to 

their homes with plastic grocery bags.

I remember discovering a local beach, Chemuyil, a place 

with a tiki bar where a woman had a  coatimundi on a leash,

and huts where food was served, meals

of fresh caught fish, rice, beans, steamed jicama, 

homemade tortillas and salsa. Our many afternoons at 

Chemuyil included watching a boy band from England

recording their music video among the palm trees,

snorkeling the reefs, drinking Mexican beer, and baptizing 

myself in the water the year I had a cancer diagnosis.

 

I remember yesterday after you got your chest X-ray

and you were home and back in bed, I said

This isn't getting on a plane and flying to Mexico,

but this is our life now, and as long as we're together,

I'm fine.

 

And I meant it like I've never meant anything else,

deep in my heart and soul.

 

This ain't no beach vacation.

 

But it is my one life

and I will live it.

 

 

We are just waves in the ocean. Nothing is permanent.

Changing

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Committed to my vision

Have the plan in place

Aware that I will be tugged

Not going to let that phase me

Going to move forward in trust

I know the way, I can listen

Now is the only time I have

Got to go for what I know