For the sake of myself and the readers that are comforted by what I write, I’ve decided to write more often. Right now, I’m shooting for once a week, and the day will vary.

That being said…

I realize that I write a lot of my triumphs here,  as opposed to my weaknesses. And I feel that I’m unfairly portraying myself as someone stronger, wiser and more capable than I am. In truth, I’m very much like most (or in my subjective opinion, all), widow/ers. I feel like I am stumbling through my very own “Valley of The Shadow of Death” and the shadow seems to be the mountain I need to get to.  I suppose we all get there our own way, but we all get there. And from what I’ve read, some of those “mountains” include new loves, new experiences and new things to look forward to.  Some all, some a few and some none. All of these are different.

I don’t know what my “mountain” will include when I decide to climb it again. I didn’t realize that my last one included my husband and our life together before I got to it. I didn’t realize that it had a much smaller peak then I was expecting, and I didn’t realize how low it would be on the other side. And I wish I could be positive and say “But that means the next one will be higher!!” but I don’t really believe that.

It’s not that it won’t be, but I can’t bank on it. I can only know it’s there. Some of us pretend not to notice it, and wallow in our Valleys. What can I say? I do my share of wallowing, although I try to do it alone. The issue of my pride has often been a stumbling block, but in this case, it does keep me going.

A wise friend of mine reminded me that “…all forward motion counts”

Praise God for that! It’s so true. That’s the best thing about Valleys. They’re wide and low, but they create a large berth for us to wind about in, while we make it to the other side and start to climb. I don’t know where I am in my Valley, but that’s because it’s pretty dark in the shadow. But I do believe that God has created it to be pretty much safe and wide, although painful. There are moments when I just want to stop.

Many many moments.

With all this said, I also confess to feeling the oddest form of envy or frustration for the recently deceased. As a Christian, I believe that the life that continues after this one has ended is full of God’s promise and the answers to His Mysteries. I look forward to this; mostly because it’s also stated that the worst parts of this life won’t be there. The pain and grief I feel now, that haunt me into my strangest dreams, are supposed to be finished by the time I reach the Pearlies. I do hope this is true as I understand it. From my own experience with God and His ways, I usually don’t completely understand them, but that’s another issue I won’t have to deal with so blindly in Eternity. I figure I can cross that bridge (or gate..haha), when I get to it.

And all that was necessary to understand why I envy those that have passed before me. Especially in this past year.  I have struggled with the worst kind of guilt for wanting my time to be sooner than it has been, and then frustration because I would like to know what Jon has experienced so far as a citizen of Heaven, as I believe him to be.

It’s not only embarrassing to me, but it’s confusing to many people. Earthly death is truly only hard for the Earthly Living. And while I hope I don’t die after living 80 years, I’d hate to leave my children, friends and family here to wonder and grieve over my own passing. I can clearly see how incredibly selfish it is for me to feel this way, and yet, I find myself thinking these thoughts over and over again.

Part of me feels like these are related to abandonment issues and how lonely I feel on this planet. I literally feel left behind, sometimes, and directionless. What do I do from here if my future is up there?

God has yet to answer the big questions, and it’s probably because He likes to spoon feed us with information. I don’t think it’s because He doesn’t care about our confusion, but rather, because we’re like toddlers in this era. Everything we learn is by trial and error and we have very very little foresight. Those that do, seem to graduate much sooner. I don’t tell my own toddler the Facts of Life or other things that are not right for her to know, right now. Her understanding of things is elementary, at best, and I don’t want to overwhelm her. I have a feeling that God is of the same mindset.

Anyway, I wanted to share this, because it’s something that I’ve continued to be plagued with since Jon died, and it’s a lingering effect of grief. I’m no where near the finish line to Active Grieving, but at nearly 14 months out, I can see the differences between now and last year. Things then were blurry and out-of-focus. Things now are sharp, contrasted and clear. The most painful and compulsive emotions have become more controlled. They haven’t gone away, but I have accepted them as part of my life. I miss Jon. I miss being his wife. I wish I was still married to him and I wish he never died. I’m to the point where I don’t have to point out the obvious all the time. And I usually just did it for myself, anyway.

Does anyone else have these feelings? Does anyone else wish that life would just hurry up call their number in the Great Lotto, only to feel horribly guilty about it right afterwards?  I don’t think I’m the only one, and it does help to write it out and deal with it.

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