"When I lay these questions before God, I get no answer. But a rather special sort of 'No answer.' It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook his head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, 'Peace, child; you don't understand.'" C.S. Lewis
I was on the phone with John's grand mother the other day while traveling for work down 1-77 through the mountains of Virginia. I usually catch up with her once every few weeks and see how her and Jack are doing. John adored his grandparents. He always thought his grand mother was a classy lady that worked hard for her family and was always so kind to him. Ellen was always so nice to me when John introduced me to his family and always made me feel so welcome. Unfortunately, it wasn't really until John died that I became very close with his grand mother. In fact, I would say for a long time I became very reliant on her support. This woman checked in on me constantly and made it clear from day one that I would always be a grand daughter to them, always welcome in their home and they would always be here for me. I am not sure I will ever be able to describe just how much that meant to me and how much that support from Ellen carried me through that first year.
During the first year of losing John, my parents were going through a tough divorce after 33 years of marriage to each other that exhausted both of them and my siblings. I also lost all contact with my mother-in-law who I thought of like a mom and friend before John died. There were multiple shifts in family dynamics that I did not want, yet had to accept, and John was no longer here to help me through these transitions. I can remember feeling almost a sense of fear at times at these changes I had no control over. Through all of that though, Ellen checked in on me almost every single day during those beginning months.
She said something to me on the phone the other day that stunned me. I was telling her how all of John's closest friends were coming to visit me in Fayetteville that weekend and kayak together, explaining yet another tradition and routine I was upholding in order to honor him. After I explained my upcoming weekend she said to me, "Erin, you have got to move on, you have got to let go and live your life. I pray to God everyday that you will." I felt tongue tied when she said this to me, a loss of words or explanation. I felt an instant lump in my throat, almost as if I wanted to protest and defend my choices to her. Instead, I listened to her respectfully, told her I loved her as always, and then we hung up. After this conversation I drove in silence for a while thinking about what she had said, repeating her words over and over again in my head. "You have got to move on, you have to let go."
I thought so much about what she said over the next few days. While hiking with Jake one evening, I continued to hear her words over and over again, and it became really clear to me. That feeling you get when your junk catches up to you, you have no where to run, and no choice but to face it. I have been living my life for two people over the last year and a half. For myself, and for John, and it is exhausting.
"I see people as they approach me, trying to make up their minds whether they'll say something about it, or not. I hate if they do, and if they don't." C.S. Lewis
I believe that when you lose a spouse, a child, a parent, a sibling, you lose dreams, plans, memories, the future. You lose the person you would have been and all things you would have done. You lose who you were when they were here. So, you are not only grieving the loss of that person, you are grieving the loss of everything that created that life with them. I believe that alone is what is so sad and so difficult to face, the reality that you yourself are no more, and the future ahead of you includes a different person that your loved one may not have known. On the other hand, you have a choice to embrace this new perspective and hopefully move forward. Sadly, I have a feeling that many do not, they chose their bubble of grief and the comfort of their past. The problem is, you take on the life and existence of someone who is gone, upholding everything you can to carry them forward. That is why it pains you to be reminded of them from others and it pains you when they don't. You carry it all the time and it is simply exhausting. This is the cross road I have found myself at with Ellen's words.
"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear." C.S. Lewis
I believe that I've been living a life for both myself and John since his death, because I don't want others to forget him. The thought of John forgotten instills a fear in me that is not pleasant. From the day he died I felt an urgent need to carry his memory forward, to be his voice and presence for others. He is still so ingrained in my heart, I believe I hold him there so that other's will not forget. I even find myself talking about him in the present at times with our closet friends and family, as if he is just away. I believe it is almost easier to carry on this way at times because it prolongs the journey I must take without him. It allows him to have that space in my heart that I can't seem to give to anyone else. When I focus on his memory and his love with friends and family, upholding events and traditions that look to him, it keeps my mind so busy that I don't have to feel that deep ache in my chest that can feel unbearable at times. So instead, I live a life for two, referring to him all the time, like things used to be.
This way of living is not sustainable, it is not healthy. Eventually, your junk does catch up to you, and sometimes it takes a wise woman like my husband's grand mother to call me out and leave me speechless because she's right.
So the question I am left with is,how? What does the future look like? How do you keep them close to your heart, but also move beyond them? I believe that is the choice everyone must make at some point when they lose someone, and it is not a choice for the faint of heart. Maybe to truly honor those that go before us, is to move beyond them, to let go and live your life. For that choice is the harder path to take, but I have a feeling it is so much more rewarding in the end. I am starting to understand that by making that harder choice, you uphold their memory in the best light, the best way, with incredible honor. They are not forgotten.
I know that I am going to love someone again one day. I believe that I will give someone my heart again the way I gave it away to him. I can feel it in the depths of my being, I can feel it coming. I think for now though, God is asking me to look ahead, to move forward, let go and start living my life for one, so I can one day live it for two again. I am so grateful to John's wise grand mother for calling me on my junk. I believe her words are saving me from an unsustainable life style, from prolonged pain. I know John would be so proud of her for being the bold, wise woman that she is. Thank you Ellen.
