Dear Roy,
Today marks your two-year departure from this life. I will take a memorial walk around the Seward Park Loop with our family to honor and remember you and sprinkle some of your ashes in another one of your favorite places for urban walking. You often remarked about how fortunate we were to have such beauty so close to where we live. This year, April 17, 2016, I find myself reconnecting to spring and new life. The rhododendrons are in full bloom, the trees are filled with a chorus of singing birds, and the cherry trees lay a carpet of pink and white petals on the sidewalks, as the sun strains to shine through the Seattle cloud bank. Hello Spring!
A crow family building a nest high up in the large tree across from the parking strip adjacent to our house triggered a memory from April 17 two years ago, when a lone crow sat in the bush next to the house starring at me with piercing eyes through the dining room window. The morticians had removed your body from the house a few hours earlier. I have since read that in many cultures the crow is an omen of change and are messengers telling us about the creation and magic all around us. I now hold in one hand the permanence of your physical death and in the other the reminder that “spring crow” is a metaphor for continued life.
I have crossed the bridge to widowhood and continue to walk switchback roads on my journey. Through tears, laughter, joy, and frustration, I continue to make steady progress, and trust that I will know which road to travel next when I meet crossroads. Your death has forced me to discover my internal strengths. I have taken care of most of the structural issues in the house, continued to work and teach, and strive to understand and heal my grief. I am resetting my anchor so that I can better hold our family together. I thank you everyday for leaving me with enough financial resource to have a reasonably stress free life. Your forgiving voice is a constant source of inspiration offering me an opportunity to be completely present in my life, and to find balance. I am still not sure what balance is, but I have learned to pay attention when I feel off kilter.
The trips I took to Scotland and Hawaii in the past year are good examples of trying to find that balance! The nearly two weeks I spent on a bus touring Scotland with 26 strangers had many enjoyable moments, but also many moments of loneliness and isolation. I struggled to connect to my traveling companions in meaningful ways. The ten days on my own in Hawaii were relaxing but also filled with many moments of loneliness and isolation. Both taught me lessons about my need to balance companionship, and rejuvenation. I decided after the trip to Hawaii that I do not want to be alone the rest of my life, and I do not want to marry again; a paradox sort of… I am in search of a companion, not a new life partner. You were my life partner no need to find another.
Many friends have drifted onto a different path, I have not seen nor heard from them since you died. I am not angry. I have gained insight into my socialization as an oldest child, female, and black, “on the job” care-taker training followed by guilt when I desire to take care of myself. There are others that have rushed in to “rescue” me/them from my/their loneliness. All of these people are loving people, and I appreciate them. However, my soul is in search of balance. I have decided to choose carefully those whom I welcome in as close potential companions. I am not desperate for anyone. I know that I am not responsible for others’ lives. People have their own bridges to cross and switchback roads to navigate on their personal life journeys. I trust my instincts much better now; when to step in and help, versus when to let love ones find the way on their own. I thank you for your spiritual guidance here; I intuitively know you led me from intellectual realization to emotional and spiritual integration.
When you died at 2:19 AM, April 17, 2014, I thought my heart had broken and closed shut forever. To my surprise the opposite has happened. Your life and death has expanded my heart. There will always be a place for you deep in the chambers of my heart where your light will shine forever, but also room for whatever comes next.
I love you!
Deborah