Clearing the Rubble

I stand in a place I never wanted to be. I am starting to build a life separate from my man. It is a blank canvas awaiting me to choose a color to begin. Many of the wounds have been repaired. Never the same, but healed enough for life to continue forward. What do I choose? What do I want? The thing I still want most, I can never have. Other choices seem somewhat irrelevant. And yet, an empty existence is not what I want either.

My grief is set aside. I look out upon the expanse called "my life." It is like a city destroyed by a hurricane or bomb. I see rubble all around me. The gas tank that drives my vehicle through the rubble is often near empty. Some days, my tank provides more mileage than others.

Over the past months, I have made a few choices beginning this rebuilding process. Sadly, it still feels pretty empty. Even during weeks of busy days, I find that there is still an emptiness. It is an emptiness due to a missing love, a missing bond, a missing friend. We shared it all, together. That emptiness is not due (much anyway) to the lack of activity, but the loneliness that comes from not being able to share each day with my special love. I move into the rubble, figuring out what to do. How to make sense of the life that is now forever changed. A life that feels less important, less interesting, less valuable and less enjoyable than it once was.

I've come to the realization that the bottom line is that each day is a choice. Do I choose to live my life with value or do I choose to simply exist? Do I choose to believe that God still has a plan for my life and seek His guidance or do I choose to give up and simply wait for the end of my life here on earth?