I read an article by S. Micheal Wilcox, who's wife recently died of cancer. He said the following...
"After losing my wife to cancer, I had to learn to
live, love, and grieve all at the same time.
I'm still learning to feel my way without her
physically beside me,
but I am learning more of the deeper meaning of eternal love."
As I reflect upon this past year, I can really relate to what he is saying. Life went on...for me and for everyone else around me. The sun came up in the morning and set in the evening. My own heart kept beating and therefore I had to learn to live. As living became automatic, I also felt a great need to love. The opposite would be to be angry, or blame or become bitter. I knew in my heart that that was not an option for me. Thirdly, and most important,I needed to grieve. I love what he said about this.
"Love is a redeeming emotion and grief is love's shadow.
I am now living in that shadow,
the diminished light cast upon me by the death of my wife a short eight months ago.
These have been days of pain and yes, fear and questioning,
but also of profound love
felt in previously undiscovered depths of my soul."
If there is a shadow... there must be sunshine to produce it. I am grateful for the "son" and the sun! If there is love... then there must be grief. True to the Faith booklet, states the following under the heading "Death"
..."You have probably experienced the pain that comes at the death of a family member or friend. It is natural to feel sorrow at such times. In fact, mourning is one of the deepest expressions of love. The Lord said, “Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die” (D&C 42:45). The only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of life."
I feel a great sense from people that what they want to hear is that I am good. I know that I need to be "good" because that seems the most healthy, but 11 months later I still hurt and ache and wonder. To finish this post, I again take from the words of Micheal Wilcox which is exactly how I feel too.
"Life now has a strange, unfamiliar quality to it.
I'm on a stage in someone else's play. I act out my roles.
I interact with the other players.
I say my lines and execute my entrances and exits.
It's a good play, certainly not a tragedy, and the scenes are filled with wonderful people
and much joy, even laughter.
But the genuine life, the loving life, is somewhere else.
I wait for the play to end. The other actors will go home, the crowds will thin, and I will see her
waiting in the wings...and
we'll walk off together."
Tomorrow is another new day. Baby steps. Courage. Faith.
I will get there...
