Tuesday, January 24, 2012

This I Believe

I wrote this in June of 2009 to describe how the death of someone I love so much redefined life's important (and not so important) moments. Every time I happen upon this essay, I renew my commitment to never lose sight of what death and grief have taught me.

As a young woman entering into adulthood with lofty goals, sterling ideals, and great hope for the future I could have easily created a long list of my personal beliefs. This list would have included ideas about both the tangible and the intangible; broad concepts and specific ideals; God and mortal beings. There would probably even have been a mention of death and eternity…but only in the abstract because my beliefs about death were untested until August 31, 2005.

My husband’s untimely death in a tragic accident turned my personal credo upside down. The day I lost my husband was the same day that theory became reality, and faith became more than just a concept to which I paid lip service. Grief is the ultimate test of faith. Faith requires trust. Death robbed me of the sense of security on which trust is so often based, making the idea of trust incomprehensible. And the whole vicious circle renewed itself daily as I tried in vain to determine why I was living a sorrow filled nightmare. My inability to escape the reality of widowhood forced me to evaluate my idealistic beliefs and determine whether they could withstand the blinding glare of grief.

As the reality of my husband’s death set in, I began to imagine the following personal truths as tall pillars that I view through a cloud of dust and rubble created by a major earthquake. Though everything around these support beams has fallen, they miraculously remain. I rub my eyes to look again, because for any structure to survive an earth shattering experience of this magnitude seems impossible…and yet these columns stand tall amongst the debris of loss and grief.

I believe in everlasting love. I believe that God is not a being who resides in a structure, but a spirit who lives in the hearts, and hands, of loving people. I believe that the length of your life is not an indication of your impact on the world. I believe that time is indeed a gift. I believe that human beings have the power to heal each other. I believe that shared experience can bond individuals in a unique and life changing way. I believe that our lives are a tapestry and each experience, wonderful or terrible, adds richness to the final fabric. I believe that tomorrow is only a dream. I believe that life is too short to hold grudges. I believe that people are inherently good. I believe that buying lemonade from my daughter at her new job is more important than spending an extra hour at my own work. I believe that the people who come into my life do so for a reason. I believe that kindness changes lives. I believe that this too shall pass. I believe that life is a gift, but like all gifts must be opened to be truly appreciated.

These are a few of the pillars that have survived my personal earth quake. I lean on them when I feel unable to stand. When grief occasionally stirs the dust of sorrow, I look for them to steady my course. My widowhood experience has taught me that when faith requires me to walk forward blindly, those pillars will guide the way.

17 comments:

  1. Michele - so beautifully written. I don't know what I believe any more. ... I just hope I can forgive God one day...

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    1. I feel the same way deardarl. I understand that feeling completely.

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    2. Ditto here. I know that we all will face death one day, but having it happen so unexpectedly lessens ones belief that God is all good and only gives you what you can handle. I am not taking it well, but will not give in to the darkness that abounds. It is hard to watch life go on normally for my friends, when I am so enmeshed in this day to day existence without him. I still get the "you should be moving on by now", and only do others who have lost a spouse understand that it just isn't that easy. Moving on to where? I am waiting for "this too shall pass".

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  2. I felt like God had it in for me after so many losses in the past 6 years. Then I saw a man on TV whose wife and three young daughters perished in a house fire on Christmas day while he escaped with terrible burns. He is still in an induced coma. I can't stop thinking of him and I realise that we all have to survive and move on as an example for those that sadly will follow.

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  3. thank you for this! I am encouraged to see you are clinging to faith. (this blog generally doesn't discuss this kind of stuff). Thank you for the uplifting thoughts today!! :-)

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  4. I just love the image of the pillars rising from the rubble. I just read an article written by someone who worked in a hospice setting about the top 5 regrets of dying people. I feel like they should be integrated into my pillars. Reminders, anyway, to keep our pillars in sight and not let lie's tedium allow us to forget about them.
    http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bronnie-ware/top-5-regrets-of-the-dyin_b_1220965.html

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  5. Lovely as always.

    I am at 19 months and I think I'm beginning to see the light of day.
    As angry, sad, & frustrated as I was and am. I cannot turn my back on God, and I don't believe he turned his back on me. People have suffered and died and grieved all around us, and throughout history. The only difference now is that it has happened to me.
    We live in a fallen world, and not the world God intends for us. I've always loved this quote - taken from the movie 'The Usual Suspects' with Kevin Spacey: "The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist."
    Anyway - I do have somebody to blame - and it isn't God.

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  6. Beautiful, vey beautiful. I can relate to having all my views and thoughts challenged by that one single event; death of a spouse. Grateful that my husband's death forced me to lean on God and others more. Grateful that there is a rising from the rubble. Thank you got sharing.

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  7. I meant life's tedium! Sheesh.

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  8. Michele, this is a beautiful post. I believe in all those things as well. Nothing other than faith in God has allowed me to continue to function and believe that I would (and will) survive the painful burning of my husband's death.

    Grief has taught me to be a better person. This I am sure, however, some days I just wish I wasn't chosen as a student.

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  9. My husband was a bit of an agnostic. Your phrase "I believe that God is not a being who resides in a structure, but a spirit who lives in the hearts, and hands, of loving people" is what he came to believe through his illness. Well put.

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  10. Wow, some of those just hit home! thank-you nicely written. God Bless.

    Mike from Canada

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  11. Like anon above - I believe in loving spirit. I no longer believe in a heaven and a hell and a big gate and a white man on a throne. I don't know if I ever did.
    But I do believe the love we show one another, the care and concern, compassion, hope, forgiveness - is the closest thing we get to the numinous experience we search for in religious faith.
    Caring for my husband in his illness for 14 months was the ultimate in love. When I think about how I want to define my life going forward - I know love is the way.

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  12. Thank you all for your thoughtful comments. It took me a long time to rediscover what I believed in after Phil died. Actually, I think one of my most poignant lessons after being widowed was the realization that all my beliefs were idealistic and untested. Reality clashed with my dream ideals...and these few ideas survived. But reconciling my pain with these ideas took time.

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  13. Very thoughtful and inspiring post, Michele. You are a gifted writer. I see your point of view and I also experienced almost all of the same. I'm not angry at God. Now.... if I could just forgive the friends who treat me so differently now that I'm no longer part of a couple.

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    1. I have lost so many friends, too, or at least I thought they were friends. It's like the death of my husband was my death too, they don't know how to interact with me anymore, and are so embarrassed when I run into them. I guess they don't want those "death cooties" on them, and just want to go on as if nothing happened, oblivious to my feelings. My grief is compounded not only with my husbands loss but with their loss too.

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  14. So beautifully said! Thank you for sharing.

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