Thursday, May 28, 2009

A Life Altered

Still, I am taken back when someone in David's life has just learned of his death. How could they not have known??! Shouldn't anyone who had ever come in contact with him during his life have felt the earth pause the moment he passed away? As if the earth should have been altered if he no longer walked upon it. Dramatic, I know. It's the best way I can describe the disgust I feel when I'm told that someone is yet to hear of his passing. My world will never look the same again. Why should theirs?

I have lived through more than I've ever considered possible. Surprising no one more than myself. Life moves on... but it should be different. Changed. Shouldn't it? I have come to grips with that fact that I will never again be satisfied with the pace of life. It will now always be either too fast or too slow... One day closer to David, yet another day farther from when I had him.

The earth does not skip a beat when extraordinary men, like David, exit from it's pull. It does not alter. It does not cease... It pushes forward. But forever I am changed. Today, I recommit to embracing that change! I can bathe in gratefulness for the moments I did have. Smiling, because as I type I can almost remember the true sound of his voice... Music to my ears!!

It's hard for some people (non-widows) to believe that I truly consider myself to be lucky. Blessed. Yes, I am living through my nightmare. Yes, I wake up everyday to a new realization that David isn't coming back and the world keeps going. But, this morining, the clouds have parted and I can see that a life with David is more than I could have thought to ask for. No, it's not the typical lifetime we thought we'd experience together but it's a lifetime nonetheless.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Memorial Day



Today is Memorial Day. I remember last Memorial Day. I was alone on my couch with the computer on my lap... searching for another widow. Searching for someone who understood my pain. I was also searching for Memorial Day ideas. Of course, Memorial Day had a new and profound meaning to me. It was no longer a day David and I got off work... It was a day that defined David's death. Putting a flag on my door was no longer enough. But then again... what gesture is good enough to say thank you for FREEDOM?

The quality of a true warrior is that he is in service, selfless service, to a purpose greater than himself; a transcendent cause. Albert Einstein once said, “Only a life lived for others is worth living.” Selfless service is such an astounding concept, one that is either barely grasped or the source of the nature of your soul. Memorial Day is a day we come together not to remember victims but warriors; idealists, who risked their lives, their futures, in the pursuit of something bigger than themselves.

But what actually brings a person to give so much of themselves to the service of others?

After David gave four years to his country and was stoplossed. When I asked him to runaway with me he looked straight into my eyes and said, “I’m here to give all that I have to offer, to serve whoever I can… To serve my leaders, my men, and you. I can’t leave them. Some won’t come back if I don’t go.”

His mission was to serve. I knew asking David to stay behind was asking him to be less then who he was. I never asked him again. He's a warrior, like so many, who believe in a cause greater than self preservation, a cause they're devoted to even unto death… because it is written into the very fabric of their being.

Today marks the 2nd Anniversary of Cpl Michael Davis' ultimate mission in action. 2 years ago today, Michael walked his last day on earth. I never got the pleasure of shaking his hand and thanking him for my freedom... but his widow is my best friend. My WSM. For the Davis' I will always be thankful.

Indeed, Memorial Day has a new meaning...

Because David and Michael's ultimate mission of service was in the forefront of their mind at all times, they lived passionately, loved with all their heart, and left a legacy not soon forgotten.

Thank you, to all the men and women who have given me the gift of freedom... freedom to enjoy life. I will never be able to express my gratitude and pride for my husband and those who represent the country I walk upon.

Thank You, Cpl. Michael Davis. I will never forget.



Proverbs 20:5 “The heart of a man is like deep water..."

Thursday, May 14, 2009

I can't stop thinking about David. Not that I actually try. But today it's more like he is ALL I'm thinking about. Even when his beauty fills my mind I can't help but feel partial. Like someone tore off my legs and somehow…I’m still living.

I've wondered from day one (of widowhood) how long I’d survive this life. “Time” I no longer understand nor try to comprehend. I can only hope I don't live long enough to forget. If I think for too long about how much I already fail to remember, I panic. Fearing that one day there will be nothing authentic left of David in my consciousness but only a notion of who he once was.

At times, I feel as though all I have are memories. But I cannot allow his passing to be just a memory. JUST A MEMORY... is NOT enough. David is more. I want more for us. I know God didn't bring us together for only memories. How pointless... where would “hope” be in that? No. We were brought together for more... Like David, I too believe there is something bigger to this life than we can see or grasp.

Still... my legs are lost. A man's lost legs are not recaptured... He'd never forget what it was once like to have his legs. A physical part of him that is not longer visible. Forever they would be his legs. David is my pair of legs. He is not a memory... I will not let him be... David is forever a physical part of me... I will never forget what it was like to have my legs. To run with David through life. To jump off clips with faith in hand. To proudly stand next him.

Today, I must remind myself that forgetting David is beyond the bounds of possibility. I can hold on. I still have both arms.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Indifferent.



Indifferent: Lack of feeling. Being neither too much nor too little. Neither good nor bad. Neither right nor wrong.

Journal entry this week: I wish I was upset, but I'm not. I wish I felt sad, but I don't. Depressed?...don't think so. I want to cry, but I can't. Scream... but I won't. I feel so out of place. Maybe this is it. I've finally snapped. I lost it to the point where I feel nothing. No ache. No agony. No burn. No malaise. Might this be the calm before the ruthless storm blindsides me once more? Or the end to my most vivid nightmare? The silence is eerie... unsettling... yet, not out of place. Still, this is wrong... I feel neither torture nor exuberance. Where's my drive? Motivation? Passion? Is there any of that left within me?

Purgatory. Emotional purgatory... that's what this is. As much as I want to feel something... I'm can't. No pain, no energy... no David.

"Indifferent," WSM said. She was right. What I felt... what I feel now is indifferent. But how is that possible? How can one ever feel indifferent after spreading the ashes of their soul mate over the ocean, writing their eulogy, or planning their memorial? Indifferent? Seriously?

I've become what I swore I couldn't. Accustomed. I'm used to not waking up to David sliding my body across the bed and closer to him, used to not hearing his voice call my name, used to not seeing him walk through the door and take off his sunglasses... I am used to waking up, taking out the trash, cooking, and watching a movie... without him. I'm even used to seeing his name on websites, engraved on stone, and on a memorial. I can bare it all... and even that doesn't hurt to say out loud anymore.

What has become of me? Who I was, I vaguely remember. Who I am, I'm figuring out. This sense of indifference might be a coping strategy of mine... my body's safety switch. I don't know. But what I do know is this "absence of feeling," like most of my mental journeys, won't last forever. For now, it's possibly what I needed. This chapter is only temporary, maybe even brief... but a juncture for what's to come nonetheless. And so I wait and hope that what's to come will be better than indifference.