No Lesson, Only Experience

Overwhelming green and lush roadside grasses welcomed me back.
Flying down the road, feeling strong and independent
Believing I could handle anything that came, albeit a snow plow, a flatbed of hay,
Eating alone in a dive restaurant.
Yes, I could do it.

I needed this trip to tell me I could still do it.
I needed it to tell me Health and Vitality will return.

The green told me it was all true.
The social setting said none of it was true.

Someone I had not seen for decades asked,
"What's the one big thing you've learned since Rod died?"
His emotionless question shot directly to the top of my list:
"Worst things to say to a grieving person."
While I maintained the expected, social composure required of educated adults
My brain, heart, soul, and spirit spun out of control.

Wanting to say,
             "What an idiot you are to ask such an academic research question!
               Clearly, you know nothing of death, nothing of loss, nothing of grief!"
Instead, I took the hook that always gets me -- if I can explain it well enough then the other person will understand and have empathy.

Always a lofty intellectual goal, but not realistic in the ever deep minefield of grief.
Heard myself getting lost in this example and that example,
With emotions building deep inside with literally nowhere for them to go,
Fiddling with the half eaten piece of pie on my plate,
Wishing for a quick escape.

One man lingers at the church door with tears in his eyes,
Another tells an old classmate to back off because he's still raw with loss,
She lives now in a small apartment without her lifelong love,
His young frame is bent with pain while his cane matches Grandma's,
She puts on a brave face knowing she's the only widow in her peer group ~
                                                                                                         They all know grief.

I wish I'd had the courage to tell the man there is no lesson, only experience.
There is no biggest or smallest thing from the past twenty months, only experience.
It's impossible to explain, for you to know, until it is your experience.

I can say, though, that those who grieve are the toughest people on the planet.
Resiliency becomes the only outfit we wear, day in and day out.
The ever present, low hum of life itching for another chance propels our steps.
Exhaustion may greet us every night as we fall into the bed that used to be full of love,
   but somehow we get up every morning and do what we have to do.

For some it's faith, for some it's deeply grooved habit, for some it's blind willpower.

I wish I'd had the eloquence to tell the man about the beauty in the midst of pain,
About the dreams where Rod looks so good,
is clearly not part of this world,
And always, always, always standing by a door.

Grief winnows the heart and soul like no other tool on earth.
We take the moments of resilience along with the hours of pain and confusion,
Trusting that soon life will morph into
Hours of resilience and only moments of pain.

The trip told me I can still do it - fly down the highway independent and strong.
It broke the news that Health and Vitality will return.

In the midst of my brokenness
Wearing my widow label
I am more resilient than I knew.
With the Lord's help, I am stronger and more faithful than I thought possible 20 months ago.

Next time he comes in a dream looking younger, healthy, smiling at me, full of love and
Standing by a door
He'll know, too.

And, as he always was, he'll be proud of me.
I can do this.
I can do this, even with tears in my eyes and forever in my heart,
I can do this.