Today's the Day

I used to be one hell of planner. CJ used to joke about my "five-year plan". It could change fluidly from day to day, but the point was that I always had a course laid out, Captain. That way, no matter what happened I was five steps ahead. I always figured you can't move forward without a roadmap, you know? CJ was much more fluid than that and would often refuse to make plans more than a week or two in advance. I remember trying to get him to talk about a dream vacation once - you know, a where-would-he-go-if-he-could-go-anywhere type of thing. After about half an hour of shrugs and "I-don't-know"s I got pretty peeved. But he told me to ask him when it became a real possibility - when we had the means to go. It just didn't make sense to him to live for tomorrow when you could be living fine right where you were today. (Reminded me of Yoda in Empire Strikes Back - he'd poke me with a stick saying "Never her mind on where she was, what she was doing. Humph. Adventure, excitement... a Jedi craves not these things.) Hell, for all I know it may have just been impossible for him to look and plan beyond the immediate. He just never saw any use in putting more emphasis on tomorrow than he put on today (hence his favorite catch-phrase Have Fun.) It was always a fundamental difference to our marriage, one that was extremely frustrating on both sides. (It's very hard to have a five year plan if you don't know your soul mates preferences, I will have you know...) Turns out, CJ didn't need the five year plan after all...

After my mom's passing last year and then CJ's just five months ago, I've found the tables reversed. I realize I'd spent so much of my time we had focused on some hazy "one-of-these-days" that I never really took the time to appreciate what I had when I had it. Now I find myself adrift, no roadmap, no destination, not even a goddamned star to steer her by Captain. In a sense, this entire string of events has left me with a much greater appreciation for the life I'm living right this second. On the other hand, I find I can't plan more than a day or two out anymore. It takes too much effort. Friends will call and say "Let's _______". And if it's right now, I might. Otherwise, ask me when it's tomorrow. Even better, ask me when it's in an hour. I suppose it must be frustrating to them, this change in me. I do recall the frustration I had towards CJ when he'd often ask me what month it was (you think I'm kidding?) They tell you to take it one day, one minute at a time, and you think it's advice, but it's not. It's fact. There's no other road through this land of briars and thorns. I just can't seem to focus on the future at all anymore. But, in a way, I'm not sure that's all bad. Because, really, tomorrow was never there to begin with. It was just a big mirage that made me forget to love and appreciate the things that were. Even so... I hope to one day return to a happy medium. For a five-year planner it's kind of scary to only be able to survive moment to moment. I HATE not knowing where I'm supposed to go...

I received this lovely response from a fellow widow over at the Young Widow Bulletin Board. With her kind permission, I want to print it here for all of you new friends to our lonely circle. I think her metaphor is perfectly worded, and - for me at least - resonant with the hope we all so desperately seek. Thank you, Judy.

Tamsenita,

I often refer to this widow life as having the rug pulled out from under our lives. When we lose our spouse we are violently thrown into the air, with no idea where, how, if or when we will land. On our feet or on our face. Intact or with a broken back. Perhaps gently, having learned grace as we fly up and then down.

Will we twist around like a crazy diver, going in slow motion before we finally get back down to earth? How long might it take before we even feel like living again (even if it IS just a day at a time.)

I have found that as we go through grief, changes occur. We change from within and from without. Sometimes, when we do finally land, the person who gets to the ground is nothing much like the person who got tossed to begin with.

It is NOT an enjoyable ride. Someplace in my experience of being tossed, little tethers of hope and optimism attached themselves to me. I learned about floating and being suspended above my former path. It helped me to see things more clearly, to hang there for awhile. I learned about the triple gainer and the somersault. I got a handle on the gravity of my situtaion. I figured out that the ground was where I wanted to be.

Your loss will no doubt scramble your former sensibilities. I believe if we allow it to, this journey up into uncharted territory, will teach us what it is we need to know to grow as human beings.

I know you hate not knowing where you are going but maybe the real importance is in learning a new way to look at life. Take a good, hard look. I feel sure your husband has his hands under you to guide you back down to earth. Feel his assitance and allow yourself to stay up there for awhile. The five year plan can be a very scary and uncharted place. One day at a time is not the worse way to get through this terrible time.

Judy