Buckets of Love in the Field of Life

Buckets of love and friendship are sitting around in the field of my life. There are many that are full, even to overflowing.There is one bucket however that remains conspicuously unfilled. This bucket holds only memories of what was before. Nothing new has been added in the many months he's been gone. The items in this bucket are precious to me; I take out the memories and talk about them. I hold tight to the love that we shared because it is what I have left of that life, that love, that amazing man.

Sadly, the fullness of the other buckets do not affect the fullness of this bucket. They may have many current additions and new memories. Friends have added much to these buckets, the ones labeled friends. However, the bucket labeled Buddy sits alone and unchanged all these months later.

As I walk this new life, I assume that there might be a new bucket in my future, one that would hold memories from a new companion, a new love, a new special one in my life. However, I wonder if even then, his bucket would not have the ability to change the emptiness of the bucket marked Buddy. It seems like that bucket will remain forever the way it is now. Full of past memories, but with nothing new added. Newly filled only with the tears of my sorrow and pain.

It makes sense to me that as much as I might want to rush out and try to fill this special bucket again: trying to fill it with activity, with love, with friends or destructive activities. The truth is that this bucket will always remain a Tribute to the one who came first, the one who was my first love, the man who God used to make me whole.

Other buckets can be filled providing kindness and love. There may be another in the future whose bucket can be mine. However, this bucket labeled Buddy, his bucket can't be changed. It is his bucket and his alone. One I can come back to and hold tightly. But, his bucket will always remain in the condition it was just before he left. There is nothing I can do to make his bucket full of new and happy memories again.

The Mountain, The Energy, The Accomplishments

There is a mountain of belongings that each contain a cup of sadness sitting in my home. Things that create a wall of exhaustion just thinking about trying to tackle even just one box, one drawer, or one shelf. I have been wondering where the energy would come from to start this massive and painful project. So far, I have not yet gone through one box. 

However, the desire to have a room organized for myself became a strong enough desire to overcome the exhaustion. It is a step to reclaiming my home, one step towards addressing the mountain. I have cleaned the carpet, rearranged furniture and have a room that now belongs to me again. A room where the memories are less intense. Not yet a room that I love, but one where I have put some of that energy toward myself instead of my sorrow.

I hope that this step will provide the energy to follow the next project, reclaiming the next room. And then, the next. One day, I may be able to address the mountain, for just moving some of the boxes bring the sorrow to the front. So for now, the rest of his clothes, the mountain and the rest will have to wait until I have the energy to face them. For this day, this week and this time, I have made a step in the direction, funneling energy into myself here at home. It has been a day long coming, a day I can be thankful for and a day that was spent trying to make sense of it all again. 

The Door Behind, The Door In Front of Me

I feel like I am moving ahead with my life. I am building it with activities that interest me. I have new friends, I enjoy the company of old friends. With that said, it still feels like my sadness is tied to the fact that in order to rebuild this thing called "my life", I have to let go of his hand. To walk ahead and leave him behind, to move on. He is left back in that part of my life where he was, where he lived but does not go further ahead with me.

Each day, I feel like I walk farther away from that spot where he stays. I don't want to leave him there. I want to stay there and somehow still be with him. I need to keep  him with me as I walk forward into this new life, but it doesn't feel possible. It feels like I have to make a choice. Either I walk forward without him OR I stay back in that spot and try to be with him.

My head knows that trying to stay there is an illusion because he's not really there. He has moved on to his new life, his life ever after. So, if I stay where he was, the only thing I am cling to is ashes. But, emotionally, my heart says go back there, stay with him. Hold onto what was. And by clinging to what is past, I sacrifice the gift of a new life that God, the Creator of Life has for me now.

There is this tug of war happening inside of me. The "want" and "don't want" struggling for top spot. The "memories" warring with the "here & now". That stubborn part of me that doesn't want to let go. It doesn't know how to let go.

The saying, "one must close the door behind me to open the door in front of me" comes to mind. I guess part of the reason this feels impossible is that I want Buddy to continue to be a part of my life and right now I don't know how to take him with me. I think this is the biggest reason. Secondly, the closing of the door behind me is shutting out the familiar, the comfortable. And the door in front of me (which is not open yet) holds the unknown, the uncertain and therefore, the uncomfortable. 

Memories of Ambulances, Gawkers and One Act of Kindness.

I stand in the parking lot  and I hear sirens all around. Not just one or 2 but many scream on.  Every couple of minutes another ambulance speeds past the lot. People getting out of their cars all turn around and watch the parade of ambulances. The spectacle to watch. I choose to ignore to keep walking to the store. Tears come of their own volition, memories raw.

I have been reminded of those many trips to the hospital right at the end of his life. The seizures, the fright, the anxiety involved. Do I call them, do I not, is it time for the professionals to help me decide what to do to care for him with this new or more difficult problem? They take him to the ambulance and as I leave too, the people gawking and watching "the show". It seems to unhelpful, so rude and unkind. There is nothing to do but go on with the important ignoring the rest.

Off to the hospital we go, there is urgency needed. I am also reminded of the time that I followed the ambulance and suddenly it stopped at the side of the road. I had to continue on, my heart in my throat. I say to myself "Oh no, that is not good".

Memories come back in a flash just because of  sirens. Feeling come back I had never processed about the uncaring behavior of neighbors. I keep on walking with my head bowed down low. I choose not to be one of the rude ones gawking by the side. Yet, those memories still hurt and make me stumble in my path. The sorrow and the hard heartedness of strangers in life.

Apparently they have never suffered with the behavior and the like. Or they would be like another neighbor who was in a similar plight. She left a tea rose on our porch in the night. With a note for good wishes and prayer. Not really knowing us but taking the time to care.

Oh how I wish I can be like that one, to shed some kindness instead of gawking from afar. To touch a loved one, knowing what it's like. To spread love and kindness in the midst of this life. 

Walking in a New Direction

I guess you could call it a sign moving beyond my grief. It could also be me beginning to take care of my needs outside of grief. Starting to think about work. A set structure seems like a good choice, almost more important than the paycheck. 

A big question for me is how much work? Where is the balance between processing grief and moving on? Will the work give me another focus? There are no specific answers as the process is unique one person to the next.

There is also the logistical questions involved. I did not even own an electronic copy of my resume. The process of looking for employment has changed drastically. Craigslist, Career Builder, online applications, online cover letters. Email responses to those electronic contacts. Sending out the file and then getting no response. Wondering if it went anywhere?

What industry do I choose? The most recent one we did together. Is it a good choice? Can I do that again? Do I want to do that again? Will each day just remind me of my loss? It is time to move away from the sorrow, away from the memory. 

I have other strengths and those create an interest in me,  a new direction, turning over a new leaf. Work that does not keep him at the forefront giving my grief a rest. Using my gifts for another purpose. Yes, these positions are interesting, not sad. These are worth pursuing. We shall see what God has in mind.  
My favorite application question is this: "May we call your current employer?" Sure, I've been my own supervisor for 2 decades. You want to speak to my supervisor? Sure.