The intense emotions of losing Clayton are fewer these days. I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. Double-edged sword I suppose. On one hand there is constant aching you can expect day after day. On the other hand you find reprieve from the bands of meteorological mess. Joy slips in, you drop your guard and the next “feelings front” sneaks in under the radar to pull you off the path soaked in sadness widowly waiting for the visibility to return.
Just such an unpredicted event happened yesterday. Ahead of the game with chores I decided to tackle one more project I should have left well enough alone for a more somber day. Rummaging through my paperwork to organize, I found a notebook that looked familiar but I couldn’t place it. I opened it randomly in the middle to find random shopping lists and “to dos”.
“Might as well check the beginning of the notebook too”
In the comfort of my home and the turn of a few pages I instantly found myself in the middle of a first page weather front. My chest clenched, my breath stopped and I swear I heard my heart crack like the sound emotional lightning. I remember this notebook now. I brought it to Clayton in the hospital so we could go over his dying wishes. There in front of me, blurred from the torrent of tears, were Clayton’s last desires. Who he held dear in his life and what they would take in memory of him when he was gone. A beautifully complicated life whittled down to just a list of who and what. No piece of paper has ever cut me so deep and the pain stayed all day. My smooth appearing exterior now had a new rough-edged wound that I couldn’t hide.
After the first big widowed storm subsides, your left covered in shards and sharp edges. Along our new path we are hit time and time again with widowed weather. Sand whips our faces and the crashing waves throw us tumbling in the tideline while each emotion erodes our rough edges slowly smoothing the surface. Like a treasured piece of sea glass, we appear beautiful on the outside but a surprise emotional earthquake can break us open turning us back into a sharp object others avoid. Now it’s more widowed waiting for the sands and the waves to smooth my newest rough edges.…
