No matter how many times I listen to it, George Strait’s song “The Breath You Take” always makes my eyes well up. I sit here at my desk, listening to my music as I work — and it hits me (for the millionth time): Time simply does not heal the absence of a father in my sons’ lives. Thank God our lives have been blessed with a few amazing men who love and support us, offer the fatherly sort of advice I need, and are amazing role models the boys can look up to (or identify with). This is good, for try as I might, I simply cannot fill the gap left behind. I can only be the best mother I can — and hope that it is enough.
i do…love you
For no apparent reason, this came to me today during meditation. To those who read more into things than is written, let me repeat: For NO apparent reason.
Our wedding vows were a far cry from your traditional sacramental promises to… Oh, who am I kidding? I haven’t the slightest clue what the rest of the world is promising to do.
All I know is that when Tom and I said “I do” we promised to love and honor each other as a whole being. Our promise was one of support. We would simply be there, supporting each other, until death. Because this promise was with the understanding that life continues well after the death of the body, our promise was for this lifetime only.
We would not restrain or restrict the other’s growth physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually. Our promise was to each other, no one else. Not the church, Not God, just each other. I guess this was the reason we did not invite the family or friends to witness the event. It was private.
Private — like the birth of our boys, and his death.
The family had come, two at a time, to mend ways and bid farewell to Tom in his body. As a spirit, this was just another step — one that, in those very vows we’d shared 15 short years prior, I’d promised to support. But it wasn’t easy.
Why?
Days after her 35th birthday, she treated herself to an IUD. She already given birth to all the kids they’d planned. The procedure went well but for unknown reasons her OB did a double check on placement. This was how she discovered a mass that would later be determined to be Stage I ovarian cancer. Removal and chemotherapy followed and tonight this woman sits next to me in the yoga studio telling me her story.
In contrast to my husband’s story of metastatic lung cancer found so late in the game that even the palliative treatment was ineffective in easing the transition to death. It begs the question: why? But there is no answer. It is what it is.
let the healing continue
Lately, I’ve been craving twists and heart opening poses in my yoga practice. Fortunately for me, the yoga studio is serving these up in super-sized portions. When the invitation comes, I latch onto it, take the pose as far as I am physically able, and bask in the moment. It feels as luxurious as a hot summer day, and the sweat rolls off of my skin as if it were.
They say that these twists have a way of wringing out “toxins,” and that the heart opening poses work to fill you up so-to-speak. Toxins, in my current reality, means this sickness that my body has been fighting and the pent up emotions that have been buried deep within. As I move towards the coming of Spring, the hurts of years past comes bubbling up — as it does every year at this time. It seems that I am more neutral to it this year, but the season has just begun.
I’ve done a lot of grief work in these past 5 years. The therapy, writing, sifting through years and years of medical records, and everything else has been quite a process. There is only one thing left for consideration. This one remaining thing is to write a letter to the oncologist to ask why, when the hospital records clearly noted less than 6 months, he told us that we had a year to prepare for the inevitable.
Death is never easy. I’m not sure that 11+ more months would’ve helped. Nor am sure that Tom wanted the suffering to go on that long. Why would he? But the truth most certainly would have been better, if only so the kids did not feel like we lied to them. Obviously, that was not our intent.
Although this letter has been on my list of things-to-do for quite some time, I wonder if writing this letter give me the closure I am seeking. I do not expect he will even remember us. If he does, it is doubtful that he will even know what he was thinking back then. As I consider this last task, I wonder what I want to say — today. It is different than the message I had a little as one year ago. I grateful for all the healing.
one little word (2012)
Every year-end, I swear the calendar year whooshed past faster than the prior. 2011 was no different. As I reflect upon the passing year I aim to set the energy for the one to come much like it did in 2010 when I chose HEALTH is my one-little-word for the year.
In 2011, I did not set the energy ahead of time. I’m not sure why. In reading through my posts from the year I find that the theme of 2011 was PATIENCE. Numerous set-backs, injuries, illness, and other hurdles tried to interfere with me having Boston — but I modified my goals, my training, and my lodging plans. In the end I got to enjoy the fruits of my labor and celebrate the race on my terms.
After Boston came more set-backs, injuries, illness, and hurdles. I took a break from running for 6 months (with numerous attempts and fails in returning to running). Patience came later. I filled my time with cycling — training for my 1st century. But even with that, I was impatient. I did not like being slow. I did not enjoy struggling to climb the hills. Fortunately, I persisted and, after a good deal of time, I saw improvement.
I also took up yoga, discovered how much weaker my right lower extremity is from my left. The difference is staggering, especially in balance poses, and it is the one area where I struggle with patience. Which brings me to 2012.
In 2012, I want more stability and strength. I want BALANCE — and so that will be my one little word for this coming year. And I figure, why wait until tomorrow to start working on it…
Why NOT end 2011 with a little balance? What better way to kick off the new year than by ending the current one “on the right foot” — literally and figuratively?
Happy New Year everyone!