top of page

Letting Go

Recently a friend asked me, not unkindly, whether I thought I could ever let go of Mike.


If it were asked by someone I did not know as well, I would have thought they were asking me "When do you think you will stop grieving?" But no, I am certain this was not what they meant.


Thinking on this question now, I realize I should have asked more questions. "Let go" can mean so many things.


Do I see myself letting go of my grief? I do not think I can let go of my grief, even if I wanted to. Grieving is simply my current state of being. I did not choose it, and it is not in my nature to deny it. And although it may not seem like it, I know that God is working on transforming my grief.


Can I let go of Mike's memory? No, certainly not.


Can I release my hold on our shared history? No, our shared history is part of who I am.


Can I ever stop thinking of myself as still being married to Mike? This one is tricky. I know that our marriage vows no longer hold, but Mike still has my heart.


I do not know how I will feel in the future. I have learned never to say "never". (When I was young, I swore I would never date a "Mike", but God has a sense of humor.)


So we will wait on God's plans for me.


Mike has been so very special to me. When I reflect back on our life together and the quality of our relationship, I can only call myself "blessed".


I knew Mike for most of my adult life. When he died, I had known him for exactly half my life. (I did the math.) He was my teacher, my friend, my helper, my lover, my partner, my co-parent. He fascinated, challenged, and supported me in all the ways that helped us both grow together.


Years from now, I doubt I will think any less of him. I doubt that I will love him any less.


I do think that I have room in my heart to love again. If God wills it and the stars align and Mercury is in retrograde... and I meet the right person. Ha ha.


I jest, but having two children has taught me that my heart is big enough. When I was pregnant with our second daughter, I worried that I wouldn't love her as much as her older sister.


At the time, I lamented, "I love her so much, I cannot imagine loving someone else in the same way!"


And yet, from the moment I met my younger daughter, I have loved her fiercely. Just as I love her sister.


Love does not get canceled out by loving another. By design.


And so I can expect the same for another man. Even if it seems unthinkable right now. Someday. When I am ready. If God wills it.


And if not? I am content. Because lightning struck when I met Mike, and the light of our love carries me forward, even after his death.


Truly, it feels too much to wish for lightning to strike a second time.


(I am not worthy!)


For now, I am leaning into my grief, trusting in its lessons to love myself, to be more gracious, to be grateful, no matter my circumstances. And to have hope in my future.

Comentarios


bottom of page