110 Carriage Pl.

There's something daunting about entering the place where your life last thrived. I know for a while now that I had to make a trip to Clarksville, TN, where David and I were stationed,but I chose not to dwell on the idea. To be honest, we'd be happy in a cardboard box so long as both of us fit in it, but Clarksville was never our favorite place to be. Yet, it was our home, we built a life and had a routine... we were happy here. At one point, I vowed never to come back. But as fate has it, our tenants moved out and our house needed some fixing. So! Off to Clarksville...

I was doing good! ...Until I drove past Exit 4 on the highway... the beginning of Clarksville. The beginning of all the memories to come. My heart started raising and I had to catch my breath. Did I really want to do this?! ...Too late now, I guess. As the military base entered my view on the right a particular panic began in me and I knew if I didn't call someone I might just lose what strength I have left. I called my WSM. I needed another voice... someone to tell me I was crazy or I could do this. While on the phone I drove around aimlessly for a bit, collecting my mind and taking in all that was familiar. ...The walmart we always went to, his favorite taco stand, the post office, the park... I asked WSM to stay on the phone with me while I made my next stop... 110 Carriage Place... our home.

I sucked in a deep breath as I turned the corner past the street sign... our home in full view. "Memories are too painful for me," a woman once told me... I thought about this as I drove up to the house. I held the house key in my hand for a while... determined to go in... determined to make it through the next few minutes. I stood at the red door with the phone to my ear and the key in the door.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't open it.

I let the key go for a bit, then went to turn it... then let it go... I did this a few times. What if the place wasn't what I remembered? The tears began. The panic found me. I could do this...

I couldn't understand what WSM was saying but I did hear her say something about "good memories..." Yes. Good memories... I have good memories here. With that I opened the door. It was bright inside, open and airy just like I remember. The sunlight came flooding in from the all the windows in the same way it did the first time David and I saw the house. It's was made us fall in love with the place... it reminded us of California. It was perfect.

I walked straight to the spot I've daydreamed about most the past 18 months... an area on the floor not far from the door. I've longed to return to this simple spot on the carpet... the spot where we laid next to each other before I dropped him off the night he left to Iraq. The house was empty, all our furniture was in storage. We had no were to sit so we just sat by the door. It was in this spot where we spent our last moments in our home, in this spot I tried so hard to keep my brave face... in this spot where I cried... in this spot he kissed my tears. It was in this spot that he last held me... he held me the way I will never forget and always crave. One hand under the small of my back, the other under my head. Without thinking, I collapsed my body on the very spot and closed my eyes. I realized how much I love this place and just how good our memories are.

For the past three days I've been at 110 Carriage Place... a tiny house on a cul-de-sac, jam packed with good memories. Happy memories. Every wall, every room, ever cabinet- a memory. There is so much I didn't remember!! But I'm so glad I gave myself the chance to do just that... remember our best moments at 110 Carriage Place, because the woman was wrong.... because for me forgetting is way more painful then the quick sting of a memory.

A Thin Thread

I've always felt like I related to this art piece made by my sister-in-law. It reminds me of pain. Of strength. Of holding on. Of hope. Do you ever feel like you're hanging on by the thinnest thread? I had been running on empty for a while now... feeling dry and indifferent... Feeling like I had given everything that I had to give, leaving nothing left for me. The past few weeks, like usual, have been a whirlwind. But this whirlwind has been an extremely personal one- intimate even. This whirlwind... took my soul for a ride and dropped it off in a dark alley. In the alley...my tear's flood gates busted open, my heart screamed of pain and my body lay limp, in shock of so much emotion. I've noticed that there's usually a point for me in the midst of this kind of pain when I choose to hold on to that thin thread or let go. If I consider letting go, even for a split second, letting go will be the direction I take. And so, in the dark alley where I thought no one would be looking, my thin thread held strong but I stopped fighting...I let it go.

Over the next few hours I saw nothing but the pain the past 18 months have brought me... I saw only the unfair, unjust, and ugly. My mouth opened to speak but sound failed to escape. I told my body to move but it denied me. I held onto nothing and let myself fall dangerously further into my loss, jealousy, and anger. I tried to recall everything that would wound me further. I didn't care. I didn't crave relief. I didn't want comfort. Finally, air escaped my lungs and as if a switch had been flipped, my eyes dried up. I looked around and realized... somehow I had made it from my bed (my dark alley) to the floor of my shower. Despite my efforts to hide, comfort found me.

Life. I kept thinking. Life.

Life, can be my curse if I let it. Life... I can hate. Or in life... I can hope. I thought again about the past 18 months. This time, allowing myself to remember the places in which I have found strength... in a good listener, in memories, in the bond of another widow, in grace, in David... most recently, I found hope in the birth of new life- David's niece. Even though these things at some point brought me strength to put one foot in front of the other, I attempt to recognize where these things have all derived...

God. I thought out loud.

With that realization, I took a deep breath and replaced my thin thread... with something new... Hope.

Thus Begun Our Dance

It was a clear, sunny morning on July 2nd, 2005, not an ugly cloud in the sky. I got ready in a room with the women most pronounced in my life at that time. I was escorted by the 8 beautiful women of my bridal party through the hotel and across the country club in California. I stopped briefly at the white fence behind the gorgeous gazebo before taking my place at my father's side. I wanted to take a peek at what awaited under the arched flowers... the sight made my heart race! ....There he waited... for me. At 11am I stood before my best friend, the man I went to for advice, comfort and love. I couldn't tell you what our Pastor spoke of that morning. I can only remember David's hand embracing mine and his eyes- the most pure shade of blue seemed to burn straight into my soul. I remember thinking "Finally... Finally..." It was on that day David took my hand, placed a ring on my finger, and made me his bride. Thus begun our dance.

Today is our 4 year wedding anniversary.

July 2nd represents the most important union in my life. It represents a covenant. A promise. When I was told that David was killed, I remember thinking, "I will not let this end." I was thinking about my marriage. As time has passed, I've been able to continually iron out my thoughts and confirm the ideals I choose to live by. After January 8th, I made a promise (a re-commitment of my vows) to find a way to continue my marriage with David. At the time, I didn't know what exactly I was promising myself. I didn't know what it was like to live day in and day out without the sound of his voice or the warmth of his body. Of course... At age 22, I had never heard of a widow pursuing the growth of her relationship with her deceased husband! But I knew I had to try. Regarding my decision, I've been told that death ended our union, I'm denying myself joy, I've forgotten how to love, and what I seek can not be found... and I've told them all, "Watch me."

And so, my "dance" with David continues. Our relationship is different is every way. This dance... is hard. Painful. It has it's frustrations and anguish. But how can anyone judge my path if it is I who is willing to bear the obvious burdens? To so many degrees I feel like David unknowingly prepared me for this phase in our journey together. He taught me that we don't live for this world, love is the point of all sacrifice and that love, the context of all missions, is stronger than death. I choose to believe and hold onto his words. I can't help but open my heart more and more deeply... to allow him to love me, even now... even after death... on the day that marks the commitment to our soul's union.


To My Husband,
We are separated by form, but 'I am here.'One day I will be brought to my hearts true home. Until then, we dance. My heart burns for you.
Happy Anniversary, My Love.





"Where there is love, there is increase." ~Cynthia Bourgeault