Throughout our life we must teach our heart to know, even in times of sorrow, that memories will always endure and that bonds of love can never be broken but by choosing to walk a new path we can let go of our pain and redefine our life journey.... 

Her Solo Journey

Six months ago marked the first anniversary of her husband's death. For one who had always relied on the power of words, there were none at this time to help her explain to her family and friends just how raw the wound still was. She had no doubt that they all thought that a year should be adequate to move on with her life, but she still had to struggle every single day to come to terms with the fact that her husband was not waiting at home each day to hear what was on her mind and in her heart.

The first weeks were still a blur as nature has a way of shielding us from intense pain. Through getting together with her family and sharing memories with relatives and friends the time passed. But she still felt as though she was sitting on the outside of someone else's drama.

She sold their home and moved to a condo, and faced the seemingly insurmountable task of redefining herself.

The hardest thing to do was to find an introspective way to spend her time alone. She began to spend a lot of her time reading; some reading came from the internet, some from the books she borrowed from the local library, and some from letters from well-meaning relatives full of advice. It was through reading that she was reminded of the healing power of giving. But how could she reach out to others, to give and to receive, if the very thought of waking in the morning caused her pain, remembering, as she opened her eyes, that she had loved and lost?

She needed help - she could not face life alone after having been married for fifty-three years. She had little energy for the basics of life. Through bereavement counseling she began to see that in allowing her family and friends to help her, she would be allowing them a chance to feel close to her and take pleasure in her improvement. 

She began to keep a journal even though it seemed that there was little to record except her loneliness and countless questions about the purpose of life and the reasons for her pain. Eventually her journal entries helped point the way to what she had to do to redefine herself and her life.

Her writing became a refuge, and she awoke one day realizing that her writing was something that she could share - something that she could give to others who might be trying to rebuild their lives that had been shattered by loss as well. 

She put together a course in creative writing, with a focus on memoirs, and offered to lead the class at the Older Adult Centre of the local community . Something began to stir in her - she woke now with a purpose, although some days she still was tempted to pull the covers over her eyes and give in to her sorrow. 

On Fridays she would teach her writing class, and Monday through Thursday she took part in other activities that the Centre offered. At the days end, though, she would return home to the loud silence and unending loneliness of a life without her husband - a life that still contained countless reminders - cards that he had given her, his favorite sweater, and an old love letter that she could not bring herself to read again.  Not yet......