Love lost, read and found
As I navigate through each twist and turn that life’s journey continually throws up at me, on the way I find myself wondering if there might be any substance in thinking, that perhaps everything might happen for a reason. Yet life seems to have too many loose ends to be able to really believe in such a philosophy, but what if all the same, more than just happen, they happen for a very good reason and not only that, but they happen in a very specific order? Life can bring you to turns in your life when you are fed up of looking forward all the time and exhausted from looking back when all you want most is to find hope. It is then and in that state of fatigue that you stop for a moment just to ponder all the things you find at your side. When those who stand at your side have done what they can and said all they can say, where more does it leave you to look? Finding myself in that very same circumstance in a struggle to find any hope, I am asking myself; can it be possible that everything happens for a reason? If there is such a possibility, then can things also happen in the order they do, for another good reason?
I guess what I am throwing up for debate is; could there really be one big plan in a bigger picture we cannot see? Are there forces of nature influencing me? Or if it’s down to guardian angels, why are they kept hidden from me?
In the immediate time that followed death’s severing of my marriage vows, a phase that if measured lasted many months either side of a year, my main state of bereavement centred on the traumatic loss of my wife and the whisper of my essence asking silently, ‘Why me?’ I don’t know what I believed but in my reeling loss of complacency I felt humbled like fate had decided to smite me and to make me wonder by whose very hand. I was not blaming God so much as asking if I really deserved it, but stripped of my very conviction, it sure felt like I must of and I kept searching the corners of my soul for how I had let God down in such a way that he would punish me. I guess quite fortunately, the victim in me was just as caught up in the abomination of travesty and the complete injustice that my undeserving wife had to endure and the sense of a victim in me paled in comparison. But as the time passed with only loneliness and grief for company, my soul searching eventually turned more to reflecting. In all truthfulness despite how hard it may be to believe, I was never really angry at God and it was easier to bombard him with my endless questions than it was to pose them to anyone else. This might sound like it defies a sense of logic but when you watch your wife or your child die in your arms, you don’t want anyone to try and make you feel better. The questions I asked of God just let me get it off my chest and didn’t need any answers as I only sought to find from within a way to make me feel better. People don’t know what to say and how could they, but take it from me, when someone suffers anything like a traumatic bereavement, the last thing they want to hear is someone offering comforting thoughts.
In God I had someone I could expose my weeping soul to and not feel the urge to ram the response down anyone’s throat. Over time as my grieving rage started to mellow, I started to come to grips with so many would never be answered questions, and coming to terms with this fact I started to find new ones instead, ones I could hypothesis an answer to that didn’t conflict with the aggrieved essence in me. The answers we look for in life aren’t meant to be found in the well wishing advice of our family and friends. Their role is to keep us company in life so we don’t get too weighed down by all of life’s questions. Over the gradual passing of a widow’s measure of time, I guess I must have come to peace with this knowledge and instead of lashing out in resentment at the so seemed inadequacies of any kept company who failed to truly understand what I was feeling, I came to the conclusion that such company was never meant to serve such a purpose so much as it was to sweeten the bitterness inside. The less conflicted I became, the more I was able to compose rational thought and this helped me find even more questions, but this time instead of all consuming ones, questions that pointed a way.
Pandora’s box is said to contain ‘death’ and many ‘other evils’, but when no one else is able to give you any answers, is it really surprising you feel the need to lift up it’s lid and peer inside? No one is going to give you the answers you need, you just have to live it, and somewhere in the living it you find the strategies to cope. I guess my coping mechanism has materialized in my writing and my probing of my every day, the thoughts, emotions, memories and uncertainties that share my every day.
Whether I believe it or not, what if things do happen in a particular order just the same? The trouble with this question of course is that it poses more and more questions each of which would require more and more reasoning, but I have become quite comfortable with all the unravelling of life that in my searching I prize from Pandora’s box. They say once you open the lid on that box you can never shut it again nor find a way to force it down, and if that’s true I guess I will have to keep on pulling out from its insides until I see what’s at it’s bottom. I don’t know what I am hoping to find or what my probing is aiming to reveal, but I am going to let my writing guide my direction and where the words take me I have decided to follow.
Dealing with adversity poses many challenges, but I have found that the posing and asking myself of hypothetical questions, has often helped me process and navigate murky waters that might have swamped me. I don’t often accept my own conclusions but I am not going to be afraid to ask myself the questions knowing that whatever answers I might find, only reflect a moment in time which doesn’t own me.
So over some of the next few pieces I write and publish, I will be telling more of my background story and on the way asking some soul searching questions. The answers or destination aren’t really important so long as I feel like I made the journey.
So in my searching of where to apportion any blame, I have come to wonder if there is any? My next piece will be about examining if there can be any comfort found from sad times and in particular, if when we are in the middle of mourning, might we also have reason to be grateful that only hindsight later will help us feel?
I don’t know if I really believe it, but is there really an order in things?