I can’t say I even believe in heaven anymore. This magical place where only the good belong. The ones that don’t screw up, go the wrong way, get sucked in by just trying to survive and forget this almost impossible place, they belong in heaven. The rest of who aren’t sure about feathery angels and golden rules, where do we belong? Do we belong in that odd nothing where those who claim they don’t believe in God go? Is heaven actually a state of mind where you mind just blanks out to when you aren’t sure what to think anymore? Do we get a choice to go or can we please stay with those we love for a while longer?
I was always a good girl. I followed the rules and said my prayers before bed just in case before I woke I was snatched out of the world of the living and made to face judgment. Sometimes I still do. But those prayers aren’t for me anymore. At some point prayers are more focused on sick kids and troubles you can’t fix on your own. I never really strayed into the dark side, some inner fear that once you get too far gone you can’t just run back and hide under the covers. I suppose I am technically still a good girl.
It’s been a while that I could actually say that I was on solid ground. It is amazing what someone you love dying can do to make you really question life.
Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions…
I still talk to them, Lance and my Gram, sometimes even out loud when nobody else is around. I don’t expect answers. I just need to hear the sound of the questions and feel them across my tongue.
Lance knew something was up, we talked about things like that. He somehow knew that even though he would fight it, there was going to be a change in our relationship. Maybe it would be me. I have this sick thing, this Lyme curse. Maybe it was going to tragically end my days and everyone would say that it was so sad that I left behind a loving family and a great life. But it was for the best because she was always fighting the sickness and the pain was terrible for her sometimes. Unspoken we knew that something was going to change us. We talked about wills and really needing to grow up and make some plans for just in case. He must have thought about it a little because he had the papers, his directives… just never finished them.
I still ask him why it had to be him. He still answers back with unreasonable answers. As I try to find understanding, the house is too loud. Girls playing the piano and singing, boys running around laughing, a house full of reasons.
But I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Running in circles, coming up tails. Heads on a silence apart
I have walked through the stages of grief and coping and somehow come back to the start. Today hurts, tears come, not for him but again for me. I know he isn’t coming back to life, not going to call anymore even though I have kept the phone in my desk drawer with his texts. I know that life has changed for me for the better and I am not who I was before, I am better and stronger. But it still hurts, likely it always will sting a little.
Questions of science, science and progress do not speak as loud as my heart
I am different now. I question life just as much as the afterlife. I feel faith deeper in my core, not for the pathway to heaven but for the stepping-stones to life, tiny chances to live more connected. I have questions and now instead of passing thoughts, I ask them and seek answers. They died. I get that, but I don’t have to die with them. I can’t let days pass shadowed in darkness and tears, I want to live fully. I don’t want to wallow in depression of sadness, I have seen how that drowns a soul.
Ester Hicks said once “A belief is only a thought I keep thinking.” I am thankful for the challenge of my beliefs that I have experienced this year. I started this journey feeling such overwhelming pain and I am coming around to this milestone with overwhelming joy.
Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me…
When I think about grief, the first thing I think is, thank you. You have given me an incredible gift, one I didn’t ask for and didn’t want.
You have haunted my thoughts and pushed me to being stronger than I ever thought possible. You have shown me that I am a beautiful person and as frustrated as I have gotten with having Lyme, I am still not beaten. You have been that voice in the back of my head reminding me to say I am sorry when I am angry, telling me that life is short and I might not get the chance to take it back.
You have made me see how important it is to tell people exactly how you feel, even if it isn’t all that pretty. You made me stand up for myself and demand that if you are going to be in my life you aren’t going to threaten me with guilt or tell me lies. You made me hold strong to our promise to put myself and my family first and let go of pain, no matter where it came from.
You have haunted me, perhaps not in the way I would have thought. Belief in the afterlife or not, the power of our friendship didn’t fade when death came. It made me strong enough to get through it.
Can there be a heaven waiting for us? Perhaps heaven isn’t anywhere, maybe heaven is just knowing that you are part of something connected and truly becoming part of everything.
I won’t know until it is my turn and until then I’ll be living.
A special Thank You to Coldplay for making beautiful music and the song The Scientist. It was one of Lance’s favorite songs and it became the theme song to my grief and learning how to move on. – Crysta