Finding Comfort

On March 21st, I remarried.  The man that I married had recently lost his wife to a terrible, degenerative disease called muscular sclerosis.  Their story is theirs to tell and so I will leave it be.  I will say that I married into a remarkable family with a strong legacy of love.

For the most part, our marriage has been met with great optimism and acceptance. There has been some lingering feelings that I feel are part of this journey that I feel are necessary to talk about.  I'll do my best to keep the tone of the this entry from becoming too heavy.

When Eric and I met I had no intention of marrying anyone.  In fact, during our first dinner together he looked so nervous and uncomfortable (more out of place) that I merely said to him, "Relax, it's not a job interview."  I was a bit wrong because that night turned out to be so much more.....

I had not forgotten Steve.  There were warring feelings of betrayal and guilt that kept circulating, but throughout it all came the feeling of correctness and comfort.  I chose to follow the more positive route, as I had already had 14 months of the darker one.  As the dates progressed and he came to see us more, as I went to where he lived- I realized one over-arching truth: when we were together it all felt so much better than when we were apart and he made me laugh.  Away from Eric the world was filled with teaching, masters programs, scouts, baseball, schedules, homework, dinner, cleaning, kiddos and very little joy.  I was lacking an intricate part of the whole scheme that made it work for me.

Not everyone is like me.  There are those people out there who function just fine and do so with grace, and strength- needing never to rely on another.  I applaud those who can do so with a smile.  What I found out about myself was that on the outside I was independent and perfectly capable, and on the inside I missed someone to share my life with.  Just because I could do it alone, didn't mean that this is what I had wanted.

And yet.......

Alone seemed to be the only answer if I was going to be true to my heart's desire to only yearn for Steve.  The human existence is such a tricky one.  I think Heavenly Father gave us two hands so that we could always be weighing at least two options.  On one hand: I would yearn forever for my Stevie and chose to never love again, and on the other hand I found myself entertaining the idea of loving someone else and seeing the world in living color once more.  How blessed to be given two choices.

I chose to open my heart.  This has caused some grief for others.

One thing that I wish people would remember when talking to, attempting to relate, or even wanting to engage in conversation with widows/widowers/survivors is: they are one person and the world is filled with people meaning well- who want to tell said person everything they are feeling, thinking or have thought about said persons current situation.  This can be so overwhelming to try to grief counsel, accept, listen to, entertain, or relate to what is coming from another person (times 100).  It is overwhelming and yet part of the process of grieving and also part of our journey here on earth: to mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those who stand in need of comfort - whether or not it is your own grief they need comfort for.

Since Steve's passing I've become quite thick-skinned and have even stopped crying when others are crying over my situation, mostly because I am used to the feelings that overwhelm others and have taken many nights in the quiet to let out what most only deal with when they see me or Steve's family out and about.  Life without Steve has been my 24/7, while others are able to push it aside until they are reminded.

This brings me full circle to the title of this post: we must find comfort where we can in this life.  It has always been my prayer that comfort be found in the close relationship I have with my Heavenly Father, and with those who love me best.  Comfort has also been found in Eric and his sweet family. Our paths of grief are similar in the loss that we've felt, but so different and parallel in the path that has brought us to that loss.  The choice I made to love again, marry again, rebuild my shattered world, and find solace for our boys, was made with the full understanding that others might not understand.  It was a choice I stand firmly behind- and have not regretted for a moment.

With that being said: we are not all on the same path of healing over the loss of such a remarkable man.  It has been challenging at best for those who didn't live close and see the transformation of my family as our new life was beginning.  This is not to say that we don't still have moments of bittersweet memories and sorrow- that will never end.  There are still times when tears fall silently down faces for a time that is over- for now.  We can all only do the very best that we are doing to make this life as full as the one that was....before- this goes for everyone in our situation.

I am sorry for the hurt that continues.  My heart aches for those that don't understand.  I am sorry for the pain that has been caused.  However, when I look into the eyes of my boys at night as I ask them how they are and I see the joy that has so long been missing re-emerging: all is well.  This brings me great comfort in knowing that we all must be true to ourselves and to the legacy that has been left in our stewardship.  Such is mine, such is yours, and hopefully such is that we may all find comfort in the choices we have been given to make.

All my love- Kami