March 15 - The Ides of March

My horoscope today said, in part, ‘…Live your life your way.”  But what if you don’t know what that means?

I don’t know yet what my way is… I’m not Frank Sinatra… and yet I think about this often. But the Holy Spirit, she is silent – or maybe I’m not listening – but I think the former.

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What is ‘my way’ after 38 years of ‘our way’?  This weekend was supposed to be away – a weekend visiting family I haven’t seen and don’t know very well.  And it got cancelled for the 3rd time -  and I wonder about that – but so now what do I do?

 I don’t have to work this weekend – that’s taken care of –so  how do I fill my time with something that is meaningful? And not just busy work? …………….. How do I switch gears and ‘life life my way?’            I. Don’t. Have. A.‘Way’.

I’m still trying to figure that out.

I made a list of things I could do – I looked at the map – maybe I should go somewhere anyway – Hunter has a reservation with Aunt Sandy – but of any of the places within a weekend circumference  I’ve already been to - we’ve already been there. I’m not sure I want to refry the omelet…….I’m not sure I have the emotional stamina to do it anyway.

It’s been 9 months and 3 days. A lifetime and yet a nanosecond. Not so many tears anymore, but a heavy heart, unspeakable sadness, the elephant on my chest still makes it hard to breathe at times.

And  people ask me – ‘so how are you?’  and I’m not sure if they are being polite or really want to know – and so I am polite, ‘I’m fine, doin’ ok…’ even if I am not. Emotional vomit in public is generally not ok.      It’s ok with Hunter cuz he’s not tellin’………

And then there is this – I found a list Glenn had made of the places we would travel to from 2017 til 2023!!………is that what will be my way? Making these trips for him? Taking his ashes with me to the waterways of the world?  He would like that, I’m sure – and I would too, but I’m not sure I can.  But then I’m not sure I can’t, either.

Maybe I must – no matter what.  I certainly wouldn’t be the first.

Several years ago, on our French canal excursion, we met Father George. A Baptist minister from England on this cruise by himself.  He and his late wife had wanted to do this together but didn’t get the chance.  And so he was doing this trip in her memory – by himself - at 80 something.   I can only imagine what must have been going through his mind those 7 days as he wondered canal towns by himself.  I didn’t think of it then as I had no reference. But now I do.  And I’m sorry I wasn’t more aware of what he was going through.   Because now that’s me.

So – Father George – I’m sorry I wasn’t more compassionate…………..I’m a day late and a dollar short – and I’m sorry.  My heart aches for you.

And for me.