In the death of my spouse, a part of me died. Which part? Well, many parts actually. And now after this loss, the survey begins: who is left in this body? which parts remain intact? which parts are damaged? which parts are lost?
The feelings these past few weeks have been the returning pain of missing my dear one. To be home was overwhelming me with memories accompanied by physical, excruciating pain. There was no escape, but to leave that house again. So the road calls, and I’ve returned to family and friends for a season.
Questions kept arising, who am I? what am I doing? where am I going? am I always going to be a wanderer? will I remember the old Donna who had some confidence and poise and sense of self? The memories of distant lives haunts me; that was me, but that me is gone. Where is she? Who am I?
All this was haunting with tears flowing. Then a miracle… driving home from a dinner with high school friends, realization hit… I’m happy, I’m calm, I know this Donna, peace is with me, I’ll be okay. Strange, and miraculous. A dinner with friends of old, catching up, laughing, sharing, supporting, all brought back Donna to me.
Donna has stayed with me these last few days, even though a deep fear gnaws that she will disappear on me again. This reprieve is glorious, and I will relish this calm. Today has enough troubles of it’s own, for me to worry about tomorrow…
Thank you God, thank you Donna…
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