The other night I pulled out my prayer book as I was thinking about my good friend D and her father who was in his last few days on this earth. After saying a little prayer I began reading the chicken scratch on the pages from this past year.
I was somewhat surprised to realize that even though I'm in a much different place, I still feel the same. It was refreshing to know that I do not regret anything I felt or prayed in contemplation since Jeff's departure.
This is what I know...
Last year I found my hope. It has sustained me. And yet now I feel as if I'm being forced to let it go. Not for myself, but for Jeff. "Love is born...when hope is dead." (Michael Leunig)
I am alone. It's just me and the god. I don't know that I understand. I only know that I'm searching. And so I will ask. I will write. I will look for a blessing.
God, bless Jeff as he trys to find his way. Grant him a clear mind. Grant him his true feelings and then help him to own them, to learn from them. And ultimately, to share them.
I hope there is something christlike within me -- so that I can regain my footing and love again.
Why am I so afraid to be angry? I'm afraid of being consumed by it -- and yet there has to be a balance somewhere. Some way of expressing the pain and anger without feeling like I'm betraying or disrespecting what we had.
I believe that Jeff is afraid of the truth. Afraid of the search, to see it, to accept it, and to own it.
I am learning to accept the change. I'm starting to see th need for it. I'm beginning to deal with the pain of it. I sometimes glimpse the joy of it, and feel like I just might be able to undertake the journey even though I haven't the slightest idea where it will take me. Revolution -- it's neither slow or gentle.
Thank you for the birds that greet me each morning, with their coo-ing and songs. And thank you for the one that came to visit my office window this morning.
Thanks to Jeff for helping me through the anxiety, so that I could arrive at a place where I am no longer dominated by it. Thanks to science for providing me with a tool to maintain. I am thankful that I can sleep through the night. I can find rest. I can dream and know that lifes goes on even if my relationship with Jeff will not. Nothing he does now can take away what he gave me in the past.
So often I want to fast-forward thru this time of rejection and sorrow -- the frustrations. But knowing it's not possible, I join with my dear dogs in accepting the love and care from friendly souls.
Relationship -- partnering is fragile, ongoing effort, shifting, and sacred. Being careful with each other and ourselves.
Let life in -- let a stranger in -- let my friends and family sing for me. Let this hole be filled with something new.
Last night I felt the sting of the salty sea. Why must he try to take away the one thing I have left? My home.
Help me rise from this struggle, this soil, this trouble. Feeling my roots, my existence and finding nourishment. Standing firm and connected, and in the sun.
