Can You Read the Signs

To love deeply, we become more and less then who we were. Where once we were one, we become part of someone else. We become mom, dad, sister, brother, lover. When that love is taken from us, we lose ourselves. We lose who we think we are. That loss is devastating. We become mired in wondering who we are for we think we have become nothing. Am I still a mom, dad, sister, brother, wife to the one who has left? I can no longer see myself reflected in their eyes. Who am I?

There is no perfect love on earth for we are only human, yet our love is perfect. It holds the promise of many tomorrows. When that promise is gone, hope seems to be gone. Reason for living has departed. We do not know how to live beyond moments. Memories hold us spellbound for they are all we have left. How do we breath without them, how do we take that next step? We think we don't want to go on while wondering how to go on. That in it self tells us that we will go on, otherwise, why ask how. It would be easy to just lay down and die.

I think one of my biggest heartaches is the not knowing. Not knowing if Tim is okay, where he is, if he is. The unknown is my worse enemy, unconquerable until it has revealed itself. Most of these questions will not be answered until I have passed. Tormenting myself over them will not change what has happened, will not bring me a step closer to understanding. It will only bring me sorrow and agony. Sorrow and agony without answers.

I have heard it said that the loved one has many ways of letting you know they are okay, if you are open to seeing it. I have not been open. To see or feel these things mean that I have to accept that he is gone. I know that he is gone, I know it every moment, but my deep love, my perfect love, does not accept this. If force of will alone was enough, he would be here. So I close my inner eye. It was opened recently without my wanting it to. One can blow off the small things that occur that are telling you, 'hey, I am okay.' Put it down to wishful thinking or imagination or just insanity. Here we are, begging for any kind of sign that tells us they still go on, and we ignore what comes to us. We refuse to believe what we have wished so hard to know.

I have this tiny garden. It has always bloomed, but not like it has done this year. A few years ago, Tim gave me a live plant that had bulbs. I planted them, but they never grew, they never came up. I forgot about them until this spring when the green shoots showed above the ground. I don't even remember what type of plant it is and wait in anticipation as it will bloom soon. They look like lilies. When spring came, I went to the green house to get a yellow rose bush to plant for Tim. For some reason, I had to have it right then, it could not wait. The one I found was sickly. I took it anyway. Within three days of planting it, it bloomed and continues to bloom abundantly. My garden has gone wild, tiny tho it is. Tim loved planting flowers.

We have always believed in spirit animals. I don't know why, just something we loved the thought of. Tim's is the owl. The morning after he died, two owls came to sit in the tree. They stayed for three days always seeming to watch the house. I watched them. Still, I did not open my heart to the possibility that Tim was saying, 'hey, I am okay.' So why has it opened now?

Tim loved nature, animals, anything natural, climbing mountains. Keith and I sat on our front step and talked about who Tim was/is. I said that maybe I could heal a little through nature, that if I allowed it too, nature soothed my hurting soul. A humming bird flitted up almost to my face and then zoomed back to the Sharon Bush it was feeding on. It would bury it's head in the flower and then zoom over our heads, circle and return to the flower. We have never had humming birds here. Never. It eased my soul. Yesterday, I sat by a lake. I watched as a falcon swooped down in front of me and snatched a fish. His grace and beauty evident in every line of his body. I sat by two different lakes that day. At the second one, a pelican glided over the water and landed near me. He swam back and forth and then raised up to glide off, close to the water. He came back around, landed near me again and swooped up a fish. I watched as he lifted his head toward the sky, shook it and saw the out line of the fish as it went down the pelican's throat. I was entranced in the magic.

Tim is okay. It does not ease the loss or the sorrow, but it eases the soul. One magical step at a time. I will heal in a way. I will carry him with me till the end, I will cry and I will have bad days. I will also have good days. When they say you will carry your loss forever, this is true, but it how you carry it that will determine your own quality of life. I don't question now if I can do this, if I can go on, for I am going on and didn't notice. I do not go without him. I carry him in my heart every moment, in my tears. We have been brought to a higher level of seeing that we did not have before our loss. No, we would prefer to have stayed where we were, but we were not givin a choice in the matter. In our higher emotional state, we see the world differently and maybe, just maybe there is a reason for that.