Of Shoes and Ships and Universes and....

I watched "Interstellar" at the movies a few days ago and came away agitated.  It's a movie that deals with our loved ones existing in parallel universes.  Multi-dimensional worlds where we and our loved ones exist on different planes, with real possibilities of communication between the two.

Last week I wrote in my blog about researching this very thing but I don't know if I'll do that now.  Not that I don't believe in the possibilities of such dimensions existing; when my brother died years ago, after being with him as he was dying, I came away very much believing in something existing as an afterlife.  Energy shifting, other dimensions, heaven, quantum physics; there are many theories and beliefs, both religiously inspired and scientifically studied, and I welcomed all possibilities.

But watching this movie was a roller coaster ride for me and I've thought about the whys of that in the last few days and realized that, in the end, all the theories, no matter to what degree I believe in them, are mere speculation to me.  And ultimately none of it matters because what I want is irrefutable proof of life after death.  That's what will bring me comfort, and that sort of proof just doesn't exist.

I've searched, since my beloved husband died, for something to believe in, something that might convince me that I'll see him again someday, but I need to stop searching.  It has tortured me, since that April night of his death, wondering if my world and his will ever meet again.  I've gone back and forth with varying theories, wanting...wishing...speculating.  Sheer agony in my soul, not knowing, knowing that there is no way to be certain.

Such anxiety-producing thinking is, in so many ways, more detrimental to me than coming to terms with you had your love story, Alison, and that's more than many in this life get, so you need to let it be that it's done.  Chuck is dead and that's the end of it.  Be grateful and remember the love you and he shared and stop the wondering about seeing him again.  Just stop.

I remain open to possibility and learning as my days continue but I can't do this any more.  I hope letting the searching go will eventually ease some of my agony and allow me to just remember his love for me and mine for him and stop the mind torture.

In the last message he left for me on my phone, Chuck told me in no uncertain terms that he would see me again.  No matter what he said I will always, always, be there with you.  And no matter how long it is before I see you again, I will see you again.  Until then, remember everyday, everyday, PS I love you.

I don't know about God, or an afterlife, or enough about quantum physics or parallel universes or other dimensions or how energy can exist beyond death, and my brain screams in confusion at all the theories at a time when my focus and concentration is shit anyways.  But I do know that Chuck never made a promise he didn't keep and he loved me with a love that made me feel nurtured and cherished and beautiful, and that's all I really need to know, isn't it?  If he is indeed somewhere, he will find me.  His nickname when he flew was Pathfinder.  He lived up to his nickname as he mapped our routes in  our last 4 years on the road together.  He was my compass and my solid earth and my starlit sky.  He knew his shit and that I can trust.

So, my dearest, most beloved man, my handsome husband, wherever you are, if you are, you come find me.  Now is okay, but I know that you would tell me to first take care of whatever it is that I'm supposed to do without you and you'd ask do you trust me?  And I'd say of course I do, and you'd smile that beautiful smile that crinkled your eyes and made me melt and we'd go on about our business.

You find me when its time, D.  Do you hear me?  I trust you.  I love you.  Always.