Eight months since the passing of my dear love. Eight months…
Structured time, counting in days, in weeks, now in months, and soon in years. This structure maps me in time and in this process of grief and healing; this path I trod on the visual calendar in my mind.
Today, February 1st seems a lifetime ago, and a lifetime it is. Since that day, my back to death my face to life, a new life has opened before me. As I cut through the fog, each inch ahead reveals. Donna, still Donna to many who see me and think me the same, while in reality that Donna was ripped to pieces and sunk in despair at the ugly precipice of death.
Eventually lifting, crawling, an infant of this new life, learning to function again. And Spirit, yes my glorious God, has looked into my face with the love and encouragement beyond any parent gently coaxing their beloved child. So close, that His breath entered as I gasped.
The first crawling and discovering of life, I don’t recall. Was it this hard? this impossible? I pray not. Yet as then, I’ve woken one morning eight months later, and life is new and fresh, with me, one of many humans, sharing the moments that unfold to us.
So now the old and new are reuniting, seeing each other clearly, and learning to walk forward, together as one. To where? Do any of us really know where we walk? I certainly do not. Yet walking calls, I follow the call, to a future unknown on my mind’s calendar, the abyss even. The structureless beyond arouses fear, or excitement, so this moment now will comfort as I trod ahead.
Goodbye my dear love; unbelievable that we no longer soar together, yet now being parted, I’m soloing that craft from your admirable instruction. Though your now is beyond my grasp, my love will yet hold you dearly as you venture the heavenly beyond. Goodbye my dear…
Eight months…
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The Survivor 