Saturday morning there were no excuses. DD was home and the kids were still sleeping. I pulled on my running clothes and began to prepare my mind for a run. When I found that myPod was drained of all energy, I reached for hisPod. I plugged in the first set of headphones that I could find but no sound was to be heard. I found another pair of headphones, but still no sound.
I sat in a chair and contemplated skipping the run all together. I had planned for some music to distract me from my thoughts, but clearly that was not going to happen.
After a bit, I gave in. My return to running was overdue. I headed out the door with Garminia strapped to my wrist and, together, we began running a familiar 5 mile loop.
The route was familiar, but the feeling was foreign. My legs were heavy and tired. It was like starting all over in running. It made perfect sense because, in a way, I am starting again. It’s the same path but now everything has changed.
As I ran down the street I could feel him running next to me. He never could keep up, but now he was free from the limitations of his body. Truthfully, I wasn’t going very fast today anyhow.
My eyes welled up with tears as I thought about how I wished the final days of his life had played out. I wished that he had given me one last “I love you,” and one final “good-bye.” It just didn’t happen that way.
But as I ran down the street, he showed me an image (a memory) of him gazing into my eyes and saying “I love you.” Out loud, I said, “I love you, too” and continued running. The image repeated over and over. “Okay, I get it” I thought. He *had* told me that he loved me. Not a lot, but enough for me to know it. I guess that was enough.
Here I am starting out again, on the same path, but with new direction and focus. Like in running, I’ll take it one step at a time. I’ll continue on the journey that Tom and I began, with the kids at my side and Tom in my heart. And I know that we’ll go far.