A River of Peace

“Something quite unexpected has happened. It came this morning early. For various reasons, not in themselves at all mysterious, my heart was lighter than it had been for many weeks.”

~ C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

Oh, 2020. You are a jerk. Perhaps not quite the jerk 2019 was for me, but still a jerk. Sadie spent weeks lamenting "the worst freshman year of college EVER", and now we are all quarantined - awaiting the great escape to our favorite restaurants! I'd hoped that we'd catch a break this year - but it looks like this is just Rough Year 2.0 for the ol' Smiths.

And amid all this uncertainly going on with a global pandemic (COVID-19, aka "The Rona"), I find myself more at peace than I was last month. I'm still sad. It still hurts just as much every time a memory or realization stabs me in the heart. Yet I'm somehow at peace. We have a lot of "firsts" coming up with birthdays and celebrations, so I'm just going to rest in the peace I feel right now. Rough waters ahead - but TODAY my heart is lighter.

I've narrowed it down to a few reasons for my peace - although I'm sure there's some therapist out there who would give me a thousand more.

I know where he is. For some reason, I can't take myself back to the time before Kerry was sick. It wasn't a long illness, and it wasn't straightforward or uncomplicated. But, I just can't think of him in today's present with a whole, healthy body. And the thought of him sick with all of this virus stuff gives me immense anxiety. Thankfully, I KNOW where he is. And I know he's whole and healthy, probably waiting for me to get my crap together. I trust and believe that while we are hurting, he is not. I can promise you that I'd rather hurt than watch him hurt.

My children are strong, resilient, and still brave. We've moved to a place where my kids can come to me when they have a sad day. I think for a while they hesitated to say it to me. There was more introspection - maybe even talking to each other. Now, it's not uncommon to get a text or call - or just a conversation in passing - saying, "It's a sad day for me." To know that they are able to verbalize their grief and talk about it gives me comfort. My worry for them is less even though my sadness for them will never cease. I can't give them back their daddy, nor can I fill that void. But to be able to sit with them in their moments of sadness gives me hope that we will all be okay!

Being alone isn't as scary. For so long, I felt completely overwhelmed by everything. The mere fact I own every blade of grass at my house gave me a panic attack. Then, once I decided to visit friends, take some small road trips, I was able to breathe. It's funny how just a change of scenery and a little adventure will give you perspective. Now, I know I can be alone. And I can make decisions about this little Smith kingdom without completely freaking out. (Thank you to the people who let me bounce ideas of you, and those who serve as my advisory team. haha) I don't enjoy being alone, but I know I can do it. I am capable even if I'm not terrible willing! Bravery isn't always fun, but the reward of realizing that I can be along without feeling terrified helps a lot.

My support system is better than yours. (HA!) But really... I don't know what I did to deserve the people in my corner. I am forever grateful every day that I have the help I need. Without a doubt, a simple phone call will solve any problem I've got. The number of people that just check in, drop me a quick text, or stand ready to help amazes me. Knowing that, while I am alone, I am not IN THIS alone has kept me sane. I love my girlfriends who don't stop talking about their own spouses because they are afraid it'll make me sad. They keep it real, and they love me right where I am. They let me brainstorm all the scenarios of my life without judgement. And my guy friends love me right where I am. They let me be needy and insecure, but they don't try to take over and do things I need to do myself. My "advisory committee" helps me make the big decisions, and no one has shied away from my moments of uncertainly. Even my kids are part of this system. We collectively decide things and bounce ideas off each other. Life is less daunting when you have a support system. (And it seems to take a WHOLE system to make up for Kerry's support. We should have known it along, right? He sure did shoulder a lot. You just thought I was the strong one...)


So, there ya go.

Peace really IS like a river. It's both narrow and broad, shallow and deep. Some days I have more peace than others. And when I'm standing in the streams instead of swimming in the deepest part, I will remind myself that if I just keep moving, I'll get back to the spot where I can float again; where I can appreciate everything I have.

I miss Kerry. I want him back every day. But I have found peace while we are apart. For that, I am thankful.