There is no timeline.....

not in life and not on grief.
I've found myself over the past few months running towards happiness with wild abandon. Occasionally I trip myself up with over-thinking and concern for what the community, who loves our family, might think.  When I find myself so completely lost in what I think other's might be thinking- I have found that taking a moment to pause and reflect saves me from myself.
When Steve and I met in July, 1999; it was easy.  The conversations were quick, hilarious, and we were drawn towards one another by a desire to know more about life and love.  He and I quickly became an 'us' and 5 short months later, we were married.  The next chapter of our life was spent learning about each other.  Likes, dislikes, pathways to happiness and histories of sadness.  We learned so very much about what it takes to care for someone else, and to put another's joy above our own.
We also moved.....and moved........and moved.......had children......and moved.
Our last move together brought us to where I am now.
The boys and I are nestled in a lovely community, where we've been loved, and protected and prayed for time and again.  We have grown stronger, and with that strength the longing for what might have been becomes less sharp.  Instead, I've found myself longing for joy-memories-happiness, again.
There are those who would say that finding someone, falling love, and risking hurt is too great a price to pay.  That a year must pass before healing has taken place.  There are still others who think that to love again means that you love less the one before.  I emphatically disagree.
When I made the choice to move forward, I did it in a way that I believe Steve would be proud: head back, arms wide, completely.
I recall a conversation that he and I had shortly after cancer treatments had begun. In this conversation we talked about what he should do- if I didn't survive the treatment or the cancer.  It was decided that our boys needed a mother and as such he should find someone (preferably a nice someone) to marry.  This someone would need to shine, to have joy, and to fill our children's days with laughter.  He reassured me that he would never need to find another because I would be fine.  He was correct in this. However, he then told me quite clearly that should something ever happen to him that I was to find someone to serve as an example to our boys.  A righteous priesthood holder who loved to laugh, could find it in them to love the boys (even when they were grumpy trolls) and who loved the Lord.  The thought took my breath away and at first I denied the need for this conversation.  However, in his wisdom- he made me promise him that this would be the goal; and I agreed.
Such wisdom is a comfort now to me.  I feel that I have been given the gift of acceptance by my eternal companion to find another to love and share my life with.  In this gift is an assurance that my heart is safely bound to his and that in the view of everlasting light- there is the promise of forever with him.  There is also the agreement that I would not have to navigate the rest of this existence without someone physically by my side to lift me, strengthen me, and help me to raise our boys.  The timeline of searching, finding, and progressing towards that lifetime belongs to no one but myself.
The timeline of grief and desire to live beyond that- belongs to no one but those who walk that path.
Please recognize that grief is different for every person.  That the loss of a spouse comes in all forms and all stories.  My grief will not align perfectly with yours, and that's okay.  It is this remarkable ability to be separate in the process, but united in hope for better days to come, that makes this experience so rich and full of growth.
I choose life.  I choose to live and to find happiness in this life again; secure in the knowledge that this is okay; because I've been told so.  May you find the happiness that you're seeking as well and that you're a bit kinder with applying timelines to others rather than seeking to enjoy yours.
All my love,
Kami

Moving Forward......

By Taking Baby Steps.

I recently went on a date.  It seems a bit silly to even use the word "date," but that's what happened. To add to the silliness- I really liked it.  We met at a public location, ate dinner, and then walked around the Gilbert Temple grounds here in Arizona.  It was awkward, and nice, and lovely, and made me smile quite a bit.  I liked the whole evening very much.

I realized a couple of things as I've had time to reflect on this process:
1. I'm not moving on, I'm moving forward and
2. I'm still here.

For the longest time I would find myself coming home each day to love my children, and rejoice in their joy while struggling to find joy in the life I was living.  What a waste I was making of the life I'd been asked to live.  What a gift it was to wake up in the morning, to breathe in and out, to have a job where I work with people I enjoy and youth who kept me thinking! What a gift I have been given to know love the way I do- and to be able to recognize it when I see its beginnings and feel it begin again.

The small snapshots of time when I feel guilty for laughing with someone else, or wanting to share my day's stories with another person have started drifting into oblivion.  I realize each day that Steve loved this life, loved the opportunities given and even rejoiced in the trials that had to be overcome. Why should I do anything less?  There have been moments when I have worried about what others would think.  I've come to realize that there is no timeline on grief, or even on life.  We are each asked to do our very best and one day I woke up no longer satisfied with being alone, and missing having someone to share this life with.  It was then that the last remnants of the fog lifted and have not come back.

So, I'm not moving on.  To move on makes it sound like I'm leaving this life that I've built.  That I've packed it away never to be looked at again- but that's not it.  I am part of this life that we've built together.  All that I am and will be has been touched, shaped and created by the experiences that have brought me to this point.  You don't just leave that behind.  Instead it is lovingly placed in the quiet of your heart to be taken out and reflected upon when new joys come and new trials appear.  So I have it tucked away in a special place and am moving forward with it securely placed forever in my heart.

                                                                                                                           www.realfeelproductions.com

Last of all- I'm still here.  On October 8th, 2013, you could have placed me alongside my sweet husband and I would have been perfectly content to be done with the next sunrise.  It was as though my spirit had lost the will to fight for the life's experience still yet to come.  In the past 6 months that spirit has stretched, yawned and zipped back into existence and I've realized what everyone around me has known all along- I didn't die.  Instead I took a step back, reevaluated my purpose and place in this life and have now recognized the job at hand.  I have to live so that my sons will understand the legacy they are; and know that they are never alone in this life.  Neither am I, and neither are you.

The next few posts will probably bring some growing pains and tentative movements beyond baby steps, to toddler steps to possibly even running towards embracing this life again.  As that happens, I'll share with you the 'hows' and possibly even the 'whys' though the 'whens' are still hard to determine as each soul much work through finding their purposes at different moments in time.

All my love,
Kami