Recently I have been transported back to a place in time when Phil was my husband. Unfortunately this opportunity does not include the perk of him being alive. But, I have been his wife. I have told his story. I have purposely walked back in time to the moment I lost him. This journey seems to have no limit of lessons to be learned, and I find myself once again a student of grief.
This visit back in time has allowed me to see the world as it was, and to unexpectedly mourn the temporary loss of the world as it is. Time travel is not what I expected it to be. There is no euphoria, there is little comfort and there is no buffer of shock to shield me from the harsh realities that death by blunt force trauma inflicts. I am faced with the realization that I have changed. I have often said that the woman I was when Phil was alive died with him. She did not know the agony of loss. She thought that her life was planned, and also that planning meant something. She woke up every day to Phil in her arms. She believed that life was short, but that knowledge did not affect the way she lived her life. She knew she and Phil would grow old together. When I went back in time and tried to wear her shoes, I discovered that they no longer fit.
But I also realized she would never wear yellow, peep toe, faux crocodile skin stilettos.
The woman I have become has a core I would never have known existed if it were not tested. I am both saddened and proud to realize that I have created a life that I love. The fact that I can never go back has often been a source of bitterness for me. This week I learned that going back isn't only impossible, but the reality of yesterday has built the life I have today~and today is a good place to be. I haven't left Phil behind; I brought him with me into a life that is uniquely my own.