Two years year ago this week, I had no concept of time.
Nor of my life any longer as I knew it.
Two years ago today, I was making funeral arrangements
For the man I had planned to grow old with.
And going from pain to disbelief and back to pain every 10 minutes
Like an endless loop
Two years ago today, I was two days in to being an unwedded widow.
Nothing will ever erase the memory of this week –
of the phone call
of falling to my knees in the hallway
and screaming into the phone those animal sounds.
Of lying awake at night in horror and waking up in confusion –
praying to God each morning that it wasn’t real.
That delirious pain slamming into me like a freight train from hell.
I had no idea what kind of life i could possibly have beyond this ending.
None.
Two years ago today, I was lost and terrified for my life.
For the first time ever I met a pain so immense that I feared it actually might kill me.
And that was a very real fear.
That – even if it didn’t kill my body – it would surely kill my soul
and leave me behind as nothing more than a dark, empty shell of a person.
God, was I scared.
Two years later, and I’m sitting at a local festival,
having drinks with a whole buffet of artists and musicians
whom have become part of my comminuty since he died.
Not only it is a night and day difference from my life before –
it is a world I always belonged to at heart
but one I was to afraid to open myself up to.
That life I could not imagine beyond his death?
This is it.
Somehow in these two years
I have started to carve out a new place for myself in the world
a place where I want to be –
where I make a difference in the world
where I say important things with the work I do
and where my soul feels most free.
A place with loving, devoted people who aren’t afraid of my pain.
Creative people, emotional people, kind people.
Two years later, I’m still here.
And it didn’t kill me.
or turn my soul black beyond repair.
It did quite the opposite as it turns out.
It broke me and it broke me open.
It made me crumble and it made all the walls I’d built up over a lifetime crumble, too.
And I decided not to rebuild them.
And instead, to leave my brokenness open
and my fallen walls fallen.
And now, that is where the love flows in.
Their love, and his love, one in the same.
I’m not certain what I think just yet of this “new life” I was forced into.
All I know is that at this very moment, there’s a fire dancer to my right
And a man with a bright blue afro to my left,
a band playing, people laughing and crying and sharing and dancing.
It’s quite possibly some of the most wonderful weirdness I’ve ever enjoyed –
because my heart is open enough now not to judge such things
but instead to let it flow into me and wash over me…
to open to the whole kaleidoscope of experiences and human connections
that are out there to be had in this life.
It’s still new and scary at times
and completely overwhelming, and always exhausting.
I still feel alone in a crowd
and my eyes still search for him, as does my heart.
But I think, just maybe, somehow…
I’m where I was always supposed to be
doing what I was always supposed to be doing – helping people.
and most importantly,
I’m still here.
And to my surprise… I’m actually okay.
And the one thing I know now that I didn’t know two years ago,
is that I am always going to be okay.
