It is good that I decided to spend Easter here with Jeanne and her family. Jeanne, Izzy and I went to Mass together this morning at a little, local church in Louisville, where they live. I had attended Mass there once before--with Gwen. It wasn't as difficult as I thought it might be, especially with Izzy sitting next to me and Jeane being loving and nurturing. Later today we will have a meal at Bob's sister's house, she and her family live only few blocks away. I haven't seen Tom and Kathy in quite a while, so it will be good to see them again. I recall getting a most sincere and moving note of condolence from them after Gwen died.
Easter has been a time of deep reflection for me. Recently I commented to a friend that since Gwen died I have thought about all the things I just never had time to think about while she was still with me. In that way, this has become a most decisive time in my life--beginning with, "What do you do for the rest of your life."
In church today I had this great insight that once one has the faith that Jesus got up out of the grave and walked around on the face of the earth, then the rest falls into place. All the things we question, and doubt and worry about, and criticize are really just window dressing placed there by generations of people of sincere belief. I recently read an article that talked about the "Sad, beautiful fact that we're going to miss almost everything," in which it was argued that so much knowledge has been accumulated over the ages that the smartest thing to do is to admit that you'll never know everything. I recall learning that one Saturday afternoon when I was in the Graduate Library at UM working on my doctoral dissertation. Taking a break from my studies, I wandered about in the shelves of books stacked nearby. Then I noticed that the books were all about math and science and all written in German. I had the sudden realization that, although my field was not math and science, those books represented just the tiniest part of the accumulated knowledge over the ages, and, even if I were able to read German, it was doubtful that I would understand most of the math and science in them. At that point I realized that all I could know was all I could know, and that was OK. And, that's how it is now with all these heavy thoughts I have about the impact of Gwen's death on me. Certainly, I had contemplated what her death might mean before she died; but, I could not know what that would feel like until it happened. Things don't mean anything until they mean something. Now it has happened, and I'm learning, day by day, what it means. On this Easter Sunday, there is one thing of which I'm sure; Gwen and I shared a love that did not die with her. We'll meet again, and it will be a happy time.
Happy Easter, Dear.
Easter has been a time of deep reflection for me. Recently I commented to a friend that since Gwen died I have thought about all the things I just never had time to think about while she was still with me. In that way, this has become a most decisive time in my life--beginning with, "What do you do for the rest of your life."
In church today I had this great insight that once one has the faith that Jesus got up out of the grave and walked around on the face of the earth, then the rest falls into place. All the things we question, and doubt and worry about, and criticize are really just window dressing placed there by generations of people of sincere belief. I recently read an article that talked about the "Sad, beautiful fact that we're going to miss almost everything," in which it was argued that so much knowledge has been accumulated over the ages that the smartest thing to do is to admit that you'll never know everything. I recall learning that one Saturday afternoon when I was in the Graduate Library at UM working on my doctoral dissertation. Taking a break from my studies, I wandered about in the shelves of books stacked nearby. Then I noticed that the books were all about math and science and all written in German. I had the sudden realization that, although my field was not math and science, those books represented just the tiniest part of the accumulated knowledge over the ages, and, even if I were able to read German, it was doubtful that I would understand most of the math and science in them. At that point I realized that all I could know was all I could know, and that was OK. And, that's how it is now with all these heavy thoughts I have about the impact of Gwen's death on me. Certainly, I had contemplated what her death might mean before she died; but, I could not know what that would feel like until it happened. Things don't mean anything until they mean something. Now it has happened, and I'm learning, day by day, what it means. On this Easter Sunday, there is one thing of which I'm sure; Gwen and I shared a love that did not die with her. We'll meet again, and it will be a happy time.
Happy Easter, Dear.
2 comments:
What a beautiful post this Easter Sunday, John.
I love your comment: "Things don't mean anything until they mean something." Wow ... so very true. And yes, we will be with them again and it will be a very happy time. Until then, we can only keep learning.
John:
Whether sudden or after a long battle, no one can prepare us for life without. We become students of our own journey, we read to help guide us along and we write to heal and share with others. Indeed, we represent only a small fraction of the total knowledge to date but our words mean something to someone. Yours mean a great deal to me. Thank you!
Post a Comment