Finding Value in Pain.
[I've been encouraging my youngest daughter to write to her mom when she misses her and it seems to help. She read some of the things in her journal to me today and I thought, "Why not?" There are lessons in this letter I wrote to Laura though I don't come right out and say it. The main thing I hope to impart to you is that you might find value in the painful places if you don't work too hard to block them out.]
Dear Laura,
Well…it’s been about 5 months since you left us. I still spend way too much time on this computer but Thirty Seconds has been a great help so I don’t think I’ll stop any time soon. I know you would be embarrassed to have me write this to the world so I’ll try not to get too sappy here. (Yes…I still use way too many ellipses and parentheses.)
We all miss you very much. Not a day goes by without you in it some where. I see the evidence of you and wish so bad I could sit with you and drink our early morning coffee and tease each other the way we used to. Now I sit alone and look at your empty chair…though sometimes it’s inhabited by one of the kids. I am thankful for them, Laura. You did a great job and I’ll do my best to continue building on the foundation you instilled in them. Know what? They are kind. I hope that gives you some measure of comfort…because you knew more than anyone what that means to the people we meet in our everyday.
The house is the same…but really it’s not. We still have all the same artwork and little touches you so lovingly put up to make it a home…and while that’s nice they are also reminders of what we’ve lost. I can’t quite get myself to empty out your night stand…so everything is pretty much as you left it. I used to think that would be creepy…but for now it’s comforting to us all.
As for me…well…I can’t say for sure what I’m about these days. I have goals and dreams like I’ve always had…but they are different somehow. I suppose they’re softer goals with other people in mind…not just myself. I know…weird, huh?
We have such a good life and I shouldn’t complain but I still do. This is all harder than I thought it would be. Actually I never really thought about the details of a life without you here but I’m telling you…it’s no picnic. Still…I’m proud of the way I’ve handled it so far and I hope you are too. (Sorry when I get mad at you for leaving. It’s the red-head in me.)
I really miss you, Laura. Sometimes I worry about the decisions I have made and have yet to make. Being a free sort of spirit has its advantages but forethought isn’t one of them. I trust myself in the end but it would be nice to have your wisdom in my life again.
I also want to apologize for the times I hurt you but I’m sure you know I was scared…of this…a life without you in it. The empty spot in my chest will forever be there…it’s reserved for you. It is you I guess. Maybe that’s how the dead remain with us. As an empty space that won’t let us forget.
Remember how you used to be afraid of being forgotten? Yeah…that’s not going to happen. It can’t. You are now living inside each one of us and I look forward to a time when it is warmer and not as much missing.
I’m done wishing that hole away…because like the kids…I’m learning that no amount of crying or carrying on will bring you back. So I am going to embrace it for what it is…an opening that connects me to you and keeps the best of your spirit in this world. Maybe that opening is actually a good thing disguised as “hurt.” Maybe some of our best qualities come out of painful moments if we don’t try so hard to wish them away. It’s a part of life, right?
I have to get going now, honey. We all love you very much and hope that you are out there in the universe holding us close and helping us as we continue in this world. I suspect you are. I’ll be listening for you voice and hope to hear it soon.
My Love Always,
Andy
PS-As always I was writing while the kids were doing their kid things…so it might not be as poetic as I hoped:)
(((Hugs)))
THAT was very nice, Zoe. (Side note…I was pushing to name my youngest daughter, Zoe. I love that name.)
Thank you, Andy. I had sort of an emotional “Mommy” day today so I probably shouldn’t have read this tonight!! (as I inevitably cried!). I think you are so insightful. I just want to thank you for helping me to get a glimpse of what your life is like and to see what strength it takes. I feel so … privelidged to know you and your family. Thank you.
Thanks, Angie. The privilege is mine. You are one of the many, many sweet people that makes us feel not so alone. These are all lessons…and owner’s manual maybe…of what it’s like to have to deal with the unexpected. I’m glad the insights come through. Sometimes I worry about that
Andy – That was so beautiful. You probably don’t realize how many people you touch with your words. I am sure Laura was an amazing woman I am just sorry I was never able to meet her. But I am very happy that I was able to meet you.
Keep in touch
Tawny
Hi Tawny! I hope I touch a lot of people and it helps all of them/you cherish this time here and go after whatever it is you want. I’ll keep saying it…life is just too short to do otherwise. At least that’s what I think. And we CAN find good things from some not-so-good places.
I will definitely keep in touch and thank you!
Andy, I think the whole post was open and beautiful but you know what part I liked best? Your PS add. Of course your kids are doing their stuff around and of course our writing is not always as poetic as we would wish it to be. Not even life is! So sometimes the most plain simple things we say are the most honest. We should be our authentic selves…I remember that post.
Hugs to ya!
Thanks for that Helen. I’m not the greatest writer on the planet but I don’t write for that. I write things as they occur to me…and it occurred to me that the hole or empty space is there for a reason and it probably shouldn’t be buried because maybe there are good things that come through. Jeez…I’m sounding like one of those guru guys…but I still believe it…so…why not be authentic;)
I’m amazed you remember that post. I was a tad cocky then…
Take care…keep writing your stuff…and for anyone that read this be sure to click through to Helen’s blog. (Just click on her name above.)
Andy-I love everything you write because it’s so heartfelt. You’re what in the 60s we used to call “real.” The loss of a loved one is never really compensated for. Yesterday was the 30th anniversary of my mother’s death, and I still miss her. That’s a good thing, I think. It’s the richness of life.
It’s amazing I happened to be sitting here writing when your comment came in. Thanks for saying I’m “real.” I feel like I am…so there you are. You just verified what I was afraid of…or maybe not afraid of but suspected…it never goes away. I’ll treat that as a testament to Laura’s life and the impact it made on me and my kids…and of course those that knew her.
Thanks again. I’m going to to to your blog now. (Not THAT’S good clean writing…)
Andy
That is a lovely letter, from your heart. I bet it made Laura smile too. I do believe that Laura is with all of you, holding you as close as she can and surrounding you with love as you move…breathe….continue to live.. as you learn to live without her….as you feel the hole in your hearts….
thanks Andy
love
Meg
Thanks, Meg. I know we’ve talked about some of these things before…and it’s nice of you to reassure me through your comments.
Be good;)
i am glad i stumbled upon your blog 2 weeks ago, not so happy that this time has passed before i’ve been able to come back. your comment on my blog prompted me back, and i found this. i cried. {doesn’t take much for me to shed tears, but this was a full-on cry!} you are strong. i am sorry for your-and your family’s-tremendous loss.
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I’m glad you stumbled onto my blog too. A full-on cry is kind of nice once in a while…even if I am a dude. Thank you Patty. I love your blog BTW…
Andy, You’ve heard the saying, “When one door closes another one opens”….How true. I’m sure you never dreamed you would lose your wife at such a young age. I sure didn’t think I would lose my husband either, but it happened to us, didn’t it! You have found a gift that you probably didn’t even know you had. I’m sure this is not how you wished you discovered it, but it is what it is. I find myself saying that a lot since my husband passed away. I always find your words therapy for the soul. Continue writing, inspiring, and encouraging us to trudge along. Irene
I absolutely WILL continue to write, Irene. “…encouraging us to trudge along.” That’s exactly what I hope to do. Thank you again. “It is what it is,” powerful words that I understand much better given the circumstances.
Keep it up…let’s just do this, right?
Beautifully said, Andy, and so lovely that you keep so much of Laura around you. The spirit and love of those who have moved ahead is always, always here. Thanks for opening your heart on these pages.
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Well Laurie thank you for reading and commenting. Things like this get me through and make me stronger…and almost embarrassed that I carry on so much. I hope you have a great day. I’m off to read your last blog post
Yeah, well one thing we know life will always offer is pain, so why not find the good in it, and grow from it, and understanding why it’s happening, and how we can benefit from it, you know? I always try and understand why painful situations come up, and get and learn as much as I can from them!
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