This is my threefold memorial to love: love lost, love grieved and love found again. You may have noticed a common denominator here.
It was one year ago tomorrow that we lost my late wife of fifty years; I use the plural pronoun because I recognize that I’m not the only one who felt the loss. While I alone went from happily married to painfully single, there can be no doubt that all of my family suffered loss. The ripples of that loss touched my whole world; in addition to family our friends, neighbors, church family and many of those whom Pam loved or touched felt some version of our pain and loss.
I wrote a series of love letters under the title The Long Kiss Goodbye. Those letters served two purposes. First, I wanted Pam to be reminded of the depth of my love, even the quality of our long time of love with one another. They are posted on her website TheLongKissGoodbye.com where they have served, I have been told, as an inspiration to those who are in love, or perhaps have even forgotten their love, in the face of the pain of dying. Also they helped me process the pain that I found myself living through.
After Pam died I continued writing about the painful experiences of grieving my loss. We are told, by those whom I suppose should know, that grief is individual. I guess that is correct, but I also believe there exists a universal aspect to it that is common to all who have lost.
These letters mark my journey as I shared my day to day walk through the path of grief. It was, in part, to memorialize the Pam whom we had lost. It also forced me to connect my head and heart as I worked through the pain with the help of God’s grace. Those letters are titled After the Kiss and are also posted to the site.
Around the six month mark my good friend and pastor asked me on one of our weekly “theology & wine Fridays” if I thought I’d ever remarry?
I can clearly see the experience in my mind’s eye. My answer was along the lines of, “If you’re asking me will I be single in 5 years? I don’t think so. If you’re asking me if I’m doing anything about it now, clearly not.”
His reply changed my life. “Well then, are you praying for your new wife” he asked? When I responded that I wasn’t looking for a wife, he said, “but your answer said that you are, just not today!”
His point was not lost upon me; if I was convinced that I would eventually remarry, shouldn’t I be praying now for my future wife? I am not able to insert Dillon’s wit, the glint in his eye or the crooked smile he gave me as he said this into this writing, but suffice it to say I acquiesced. What an interesting word from the Latin that is: ad (with) + quiēscere ( to repose, be quiet.) I was quiet but I also listened.
The next day I prayed. Not very earnestly, I admit, but still I prayed for my future wife.
Two days later I opened the door to greet a long time friend who was accompanying me to a griefshare meeting. As soon as I opened the door I noticed something different about my longtime friend Kathy.
In the days and weeks that followed that meeting, I realized that the woman I now saw was no longer the wife of my late good friend, nor was I married any longer to Pam, so naturally I found myself looking at her differently. I soon knew that I was looking at my future wife.
My half hearted prayer was answered in lightning fast speed. I continued to write my love letters, some on grief under After The Kiss, but also some under a new title- A Fresh Kiss, but they are not posted to the site. Next month Kathy and I shall be married.
It will not be the first marriage covenant for either of us, but I do suspect it will be our last. We have also taken seriously the bonds of our covenant vows and the admonitions of scripture as we try to build a good foundation upon which we can build the balance of our lives- together.
Thank you to those who have gone through this journey with me, thank you to all who helped love me through it and for your prayers.
Grief is never over, in my opinion, but we can reach a point where its work is complete. From there we can move on, always aware that a rogue wave of grief may be triggered by a sight, a sound, a thought or even a smell. We must all deal with those as they come, but we also know that they pass and when they do, they bring us back into the present.
Today, I am grateful for love past as well as love future; I am grateful to be able to embrace both simultaneously without the exclusion of either.
Brad