Thursday, March 30, 2017

Reflections on the Water...



The ocean quiets my soul long enough to sit and think about my Mike uninterrupted. He was such a good man, rough around the edges and sometimes difficult to live with, but gentle enough on the inside that he made me fall in love harder and harder as the years went by.

Mike and I fought sometimes, most definitely, and some of those fights were scary enough that I wasn't sure our marriage would stand the test of time. But we amazed each other over the years and our resilience and pure commitment to each other made us who we were. What did stand was our love for each other and our desire to fight through the rough waves to get to the smooth waters.

Widowhood is like that huge wave that you don't expect. The one that knocks your legs from under you, no matter how stable you think your footing is. See, if you've never been to the ocean, I'll paint you a picture.

It is pure rawness. It is beauty at its highest, with the sound of the waves crashing; the softness of the white sand beneath your feet. It is warmth and a breeze that tickles your skin the entire time. It is the sun reflecting its power off the water and nothing but blue beyond the horizon.

And then sometimes it is scary. When the rip tide comes or the waters are choppy beyond the shoreline, it can be a very intimidating place to be. Those days cause me to watch my son like a hawk while he's out in the water. We've only visited the ocean theee times, but all three times have brought both the beautiful and the scary parts of this force God has created on our earth. The waves are powerful many days and they knock people down left and right.

Widowhood is much like the ocean in its hateful determination to knock you down,  and in its raw power.

Sometimes, when the waves are high and powerful, I can't catch my breath when the grief comes washing over my firm footing. Just when I think I'm doing better and I may be healing, I'm knocked down again and the sadness, loneliness, guilt and fear wash over me while I struggle to stand again.

And while some days the ocean and the waves make me smile and laugh, other times I shudder at the magnitude of its effect on its visitors. It is sometimes a love-hate relationship. It will change you if you let it. In more than just a figurative way. It can change you literally, whether your skin becomes burned, your leg becomes pained from a jellyfish sting, or something more. And it can change you internally from an ocean hater to an ocean lover, or vice-versa. Widowhood is similar, in that it changes us. Definitely on the literal front.

I have definitely become an ocean lover from my three visits these past two years. But widowhood brings no love. We definitely have a full on hate relationship.

I hate being a widow.
I hate being alone and lonely.
I hate the ache that persists in the pit of my stomach every single day.
I hate that some people look at my pictures and I'm smiling and laughing so they think I'm "ok" and happy all the time.
I hate the huge bills he left me to pay alone, fearful of never being able to get away from them, just like Mike couldn't get away from them.
I hate solo parenting and always second guessing myself, never having someone to bounce ideas off of.
I hate the struggles my son faces every single day, whether it's the anger, the sadness, the loneliness, the guilt, the disbelief, or the fear.
I hate that I can't fix it.
I hate that others want to judge many widows' decisions or life moves.
I hate that my son and I take these trips alone...and I don't mean completely alone but even with a crowd, we feel alone without Mike.
I hate that I fear I'll never know love again.
I hate that I don't know the best move sometimes and that I feel like a failure.
I hate that I cry in the middle of anywhere, anything, and with anyone.
I hate being a widow.

But I sure do love the ocean. I just wish he was here beside me, watching this beautiful creation wash over the sand.

I miss you and love you now, forever, and always times infinity, Michael Richard. You were stronger than the waves crashing around me, and could have helped me stand when one came washing over. We need your strength.
We need you.
But since God was ready for you to go Home, we'll fight through the waves that knock us down, until we get to smoother waters.
Until then...
#stillhis
Love, Veronica