THE TASK AT HAND

It's a rainy day, but at least it's getting warmer; a good day to take it easy, lounge around the house and be good to myself. One of these days the sun will shine and it will be time to get the bicycle off the hook in the ceiling of the garage. Until then, this afternoon it will be off to the gym for me. I'm a little tired today anyway; stayed up late watching the UM hockey team upset a favored North Dakota team in the Frozen Four. Though I am tired, it was kind of nice to do something normal like that. I suppose that gradually some of the old patterns of behavior will begin to return and whatever my new version of reality is going to be will take some form and shape. I know that Gwen wants me to live well. (As I finished typing that last sentence a robin landed on a wire right outside the living room window.  I see it as a message from Gwen; for sure it is a harbinger of spring, a time for renewal.)

When I talk with friends who are also grieving the loss of someone they loved dearly and deeply,  a common experience is that of coming to terms with  knowing  life has gone on as usual.  We, on the other hand, know that the world as we knew it  no longer exists nor will it ever exist that way again.  We keep in our memories the events leading up to the death of our loved one, the death itself, and then everything that follows.  So, as one of my friends put if, we wear our mask with the smiley faces,  and go about the business of living.  Another friend reminded me that there has to also be an element of simply letting go and allowing things to evolve.  It's struggle for me to try  to find words to express what this feels like.  The best I can do is to repeat what I've said many times since Gwen died.--the only way one can know what it feels like is for one to know what it feels like.  Even those words seem clumsy to me.  I wrote this poem yesterday, I think it captures somewhat the essence of what I'm trying to express here:

THE TASK AT HAND      

You ended your task, here

on earth, with me, now

for a while I must go on as before

we met and fell in love, seems

like forever ago, when life was sweet.

I wait for something to tug, at me

the way your memory does, maybe

then I could see my task, clearly

though it seems like my vision will

always be blurred by tears.

John A. Bayerl, April 7, 2011

I haven't forgotten the most important things, Dear, the big tasks of being father, grandfather, relative, friend and someone who keeps present the love we shared.  Once again the words of  St. Julian of Norwich are so meaningful as I consider the direction is which my life will go " All will be well, and all will be well, all manner of things shall be well".