The Dark Corners
“We are but a wisp of smoke when we are gone…shadowy memories that cling to us like curls of smoke.”
I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday. Nothing major…just a follow up on something we’re keeping an eye on. Aside from the boring green floral upholstery on the chairs, there were some unmemorable pieces of what would pass for art. You can go in any medical office in America and see the same room. Rather than pick up germy, outdated magazines, I pulled my knitting out of my bag to get a few rows in before my name was called.
As I stitched, my mind was drawn to the television hanging in the corner of the room in front of me. Our local hospital is affiliated with WVU Medical Center and the TV plays an endless loop of PR stories…physicians and patient profiles that demonstrate the different specialties and what they can achieve.
As I knit two, perl two, something caught my attention. A woman was on the screen talking about her husband. He had arrived home early from work and decided to take the dog and go for a run. She continued to shop on the computer when he returned in moments saying he didn’t feel well. Her nurse mode kicked in and she realized he didn’t look well. She checked his pulse and to her horror, realized he was having a heart attack. She got him down on the floor and implored him to stay awake. He said he was trying and with that, lost consciousness. She began CPR while trying to dial 911, shouting to the phone on the floor to send an ambulance right away.
It was my story all over again.
I found myself gripping the knitting needles, willing the man to breathe, to wake up, to not leave his wife alone to clean up the mess of death…to stay a little longer so she wouldn’t feel what I felt. While I was relieved to hear he made it, there was that familiar pang of “Why me? My MY man?”
Tears stung my eyes…to my surprise.
I don’t let myself go there very often anymore. It’s like a photo album and I know what the pictures inside look like, but I don’t necessarily need to get it down and view it very often. It’s just easier on me if I don’t go there.
And, besides…I’m married again. Aren’t I not supposed to grieve another when I have this wonderful man in my life now? I don’t grieve like I once did. That is a GOOD thing. That is the way it should be. But just know this: There will be times, there will be moments, there will be events that will trigger you and, no matter how happy you are and your life is vastly improved, you’ll still “go there”. This is normal and I want you to know that. I want you to be gentle with yourself. Don’t feel guilty. Feel your feels cause they’re as real as real can be. You never stop loving…you start loving more. And gradually, you begin hurting a little less, and a little less, and a little less till you put the photo album up on the shelf. ❤️
“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his faithful servants.”Psalm 116:15 NIV