Loss is not describable. Not in the sense of loss of a loved one. I've lost my keys, my checkbook, important paper work many times. That is momentary panic followed by anger at one's self for not putting things where they belong. This is different. It's profound. An intangible feeling and sense that can't be duplicated. Those that have it can feel it, touch it, see it, taste it but it can't be described. I think that is why we seek out others who have shared our experiences. We are anxious for those who can relate.
I have, in my short widowhood, found many who have shared my sense of loss. It is a sad comfort. I need to know that others have suffered as I, and some more. It gives me a sick sense of belonging. I am an unfortunate member of a permanent club of which I cannot revoke my membership as all my dues are paid in full whether I like it or not. The thing about loss is it takes from you. It takes a piece of your soul and sense of reality. Others who have shared loss can see it in the faces of other members. We just know. When I think of this, I think of a friend I met a few years ago. Beautiful, smart, seeming to have it all, at least all that most would want but I sensed a longing in her. There seemed to be a sadness that shrouded her smile. I didn't know what it was but she shared it with me when I lost my husband. Her beautiful daughter was taken unexpectedly. In a moment, gone. Irrevocable, just like my Greg. No matter what happened the day before, what was intended, gone, forever.
The funny thing about funerals and people who have had profound losses is people will say the darnedest and seemingly sincere things. Many will talk to us about a sense of greater love and appreciation for loved ones. Lie. It is only emotionalism and sentimentality run riot. Give these speakers a few weeks and it is back to resentments and fueled distain for the intolerance of family members' shortcomings. Ask any married couple who shared with me a sense of greater appreciation for one another and a taking of marriage more seriously how that is going these days and it I bet it is, more or less, back to the same old thing.
I don't think, unless you have walked our path of loss, that it is possible to have that greater sense. I have it. It is like The Matrix. I took the Red Pill. I didn't know what I was taking but here it is. I live in an alternate universe. My sense of reality and life is so remarkably different than anyone else's. I wish they could know. I wish I could download my brain and help people see. All this, everything you have, everyone you know, everything you do, all that you make, all your investments, possessions or lack there of, everything is temporary. The sense of security in things and people that everyone has is false. It can be wiped out in an instant. I don't worry about these things any more. Not like I used to. I can't. I know better now. It is actually freeing!
Take for instance my house. It sold in about two weeks. Not my expectation but that is what happened. Instantaneously everyone wanted to know what I'd do next. Where would my stuff go? How long would I be in Florida? Would I be in Florida forever? Where would I be permanently? I kept answering "I don't know" and "I'll know when I get there". Not what most people wanted to hear. People without profound loss need to over plan. They need that sense of "I need to know what is going on". I know that doesn't always work that way. I am not worried. What works out will work out. Don't panic. Try explaining that to others.
For me, I am better than before. It is funny how life works that way. We have to experience pain to grow and be better people. My "Zen" is real. It is real because I trust in a God that sees the whole picture not the little, self-centered picture that I can see. No matter what, I can't get it wrong. The end result is His and His alone. What a sense of security in that!
Next up, I close and pack my house...stay tuned...
Don't Pray For Me
5 years ago