"I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me." Philippians 3:12
Dear John,
I am above the clouds again, gazing out at the incredible Mt. Rainier, flying back to my home, flying away from ours. I pictured you summiting this inspiring peak as you did multiple times throughout your journey on this earth. You and I had planned to do this together at some point, but I was never sure if I would be strong enough. My endurance could not compare to yours. Yet as I stare at this intimidating, yet beautiful peak, I feel drawn to it. Maybe I will make the trek to where you once stood one day.
And really muffin, that is what this trip was all about, being near you.. Many would call what I did a vacation, yet it never felt like a vacation, it felt like a summit through thick snow, through a blizzard.. A journey into the past, a part of my grieving process, a part of my need to heal. I have to tell you muffin, it broke me down. I've always considered myself to be someone with thick skin, with confidence and determination, someone who can handle anything thrown at her. Driving into the mountains of southern Oregon seemed to transform me. I became the person I was back in June when I left. I couldn't sleep, at times I couldn't eat, and I cried more in those few days than I have in months.
You were everywhere my love. I went to one of our favorite restaurants the night of my 31st birthday with our good friends, Jared and Lisa. Multiple times I looked towards the restroom, expecting you to appear at any moment. Your seat sat empty as we enjoyed each other's company. I went for a morning run through our neighborhood and gazed at the house that was once our home. A new couple now lives there and enjoys those beautiful mountain views from the front porch. I drove through the Applegate Valley where we spent many motorcycle rides. I even went back to the Smith River where you spent your last day with me and kayaked our last river. It was then that I knew you were so near. I paddled ahead of our group through each rapid with a confidence I have not felt in a long time. I could picture you ahead of me making each move look so graceful. I stopped at our rock and placed you there with an incredible view of the water and mountains. I closed my eyes and pictured you standing there with me, the way you once did. You were so happy muffin, so content and excited for this new chapter.
I mountain biked through the redwoods and passed the magnificent trees you and I once gazed at together. I sat in silence and listened to the trees speak to each other. I watched how the redwoods allow small beams of sunlight to peak through their branches. I felt you in that light and in the wind as I flew through the twist and turns of the forest. I felt your strength rise within me as I climbed to each overlook. You were with me.
I felt you around every corner muffin, around every river bend, as if you were just within my reach, but I couldn't catch you, I couldn't get to you, and it broke my heart. It broke my spirit. As I finally drove away from Grants Pass, it felt like an explosion was taking place in my chest, as if I was leaving you behind and for the first time in months, I panicked.
I have to say that God delivered as he always does. I prayed to feel you near muffin, in fact I begged before I came out here. Yet, I felt you so much and so close that it ripped at my heart, it broke me down and revealed the darkness I felt months ago. You were so close, yet your absence was so evident, and the permanency of this loss became so clear. You are gone my love, off to a new adventure and a new beginning surrounded by perfection. I am here muffin. I realized from this journey to Oregon that you have moved on and you need me to do the same. You need me to let go. You need me to look ahead. Returning to Oregon has revealed to me that I haven't done that.
I felt strongly on this trip that God is preparing me for something, and he needed me to visit our home so I could face it, see it for what it now is, and let it go. If I don't let go, I don't stand a chance muffin. What we had was rare my love, I know that and I realize how incredibly blessed I was to experience a love like ours. Our souls were one. I used to think you ruined me. Your love was so incredible, I felt it would be impossible to love someone like that again. But as I fly this morning, I am realizing that it is just the opposite. I can and will experience that again because of that precious gift you gave me.
Through the pain I felt this week muffin, I was surrounded. Our friends came together and surrounded me. Milestones took place from Christmas, to Birthdays, to a New Year. I looked into the eyes of these beautiful people and felt God's love radiating throughout this inspiring place that was once our home. I was not alone. As I am now staring down at the Grand Canyon, I am realizing that this trip maybe broke me, but it didn't take me. I am still standing, maybe with some bumps and bruises, but I am still standing, I am still breathing. You needed me to see this place for what it now is, so I can let go.
Because of you beautiful husband, I am flying back to the east coast with a new confidence that I can do that. I can move beyond you, yet know you are always with me, just around the river bend. There will be new joys, new memories, new love, new beginnings, and it's all because of you. I can now fly with my own wings. Thank you John. I love you always and forever.
I love your heart!
ReplyDeleteI remember coming across your blog at the airport asking myself why do I continue to read? Why was your grief different from the other stories I have encountered over the years for that I am already at the different place now ... and it took me some days after reading all of your blog for the first time to realize that it was your courage that I was attracted to and the way you dug your bloody claw into what was so painful and worked your way through it that mirrored so much of my own story .. I was constantly reliving where I was six years ago as I peel through your blog ... constantly being reminded about how fearless I was when I was where you were in this post. You reminded me the way I grab my "grief" by the horns and said to it "bring it on!" I have never shared this experience with anyone, let alone posting this over the internet but I would like to share this story with you for your story has helped me so much. I was only seven when my mother coded before me and I was physically yanked out of the hospital room before I could process what had happened as medical people rushed in to resuscitate her. Days and years after her death, these memories were repressed somehow. It never had an outlet but once I was old enough to retrieve these images back in therapy; the first thing I did was go back to the hospital to find that room (fortunately the hospital --16 years later ..had never been renovated). I rode the elevator like a creeper :) up and down searching for the unit/room; fortunately it only took two attempts and I found it. Once I found the room; I knew that I had found I needed to truly start my healing process... I had never come so close to what felt so raw ... and it took me almost two years to go back and work through all that was held in that room for me in therapy ... and by my mothers 20 death anniversary (Ironically; a friend of mine who had also started working on that same unit-- texted me and told me that, that room was open that day); and I re-entered that room physically for the time , sat on the same bed where she was yanked from me and said my final goodbyes ... & that's been that. I think of all the grief I had to work through with that hospital and that room from time to time but I haven't been back Erin since 2013 ... which is huge for me ... because during my first few years of grieving; I would sit alone in the courtyard and just cry for that was the only place in the world where my mother felt so close -- but I am at a different place today because I did what you did; I dug myself into some of the darkest places for what made me feel like I was dying at the time ... stood back up ... and found even more light and healing on the other end than I could have imagine at the time. So I am not only astound by your remarkable courage (that, I am too continuing to see in myself as I read); I am also so touched by the love/light that you continue to share on here ... and feel very intrigued to see where you will go ... and how bright your story will continue to light up this world. xo
ReplyDeleteSo I lied :). I went back to the courtyards of the hospital tonight since my last 2013 visit; the heart long to go even though my body physically resisted every inch of the trip but when I got there; I realized that I was meant to be there because it was beautiful there tonight. Everything about it was so peaceful and enchanted ... to my surprise ...
ReplyDeleteI think the grief transforms as our journeys transforms & I walked away with a message from the courtyard tonight that read "when assurance is needed; know that; God got your back" ... Like you said Erin; love is God and God is love ...