Today has been another day of contemplation and reflection as I traveled from the mountains of western Wyoming to the Black Hills of South Dakota. Gwen and I and our children visited Mount Rushmore many years ag0, so I didn't do that again. Later in the day, as I drove past the Badlands of South Dakota, I was reminded of the first time I saw them when I drove our 1963 Ford to Oregon. I thought myself to be a pretty sophisticated person, having just completed my Masters Degree at The University of Michigan, but was a babe in the woods as far as travel was concerned. I had never been further west than Milwaukee. I was as impressed today as I was then at the sheer magnitude of our country and its diverse topographic features. It was also quite an exercise in contrast to think about how when I made this trip the first time I was heading toward a year of learning and growth, and, as I called Gwen each night to tell her about my day, we were both looking forward to an exciting future filled with opportunities. I did not feel at all alone on that journey--how could I?-- the love of my life and our two children would join me in a little while in Portland. Today was so different; no phone call to Gwen tonight, those two children are now all grown up and looking forward to their own exciting opportunities, such as the blog that Jeanne began publishing today. I'm alone, but not terribly lonely when I can think about life that way.
There was another moment of spiritual awakening today when I came to accept that Gwen and I will someday be together again, but that for now, although I am ready for that to happen whenever it does, in all likelihood I'm going to be around for quite a while yet, so there's that to take into consideration. The week after Gwen died, I saw a friend in church who offered her condolences, and then snapped her fingers and said, "That's what this life is compared to what's ahead." I didn't get it at the time, but think I do now. Maybe it's being alone in the vastness of the Great Plains that helped me understand how relatively brief each person's life is compared to the great scheme of things. John and I attended a concert a while ago, and the singer sang a song called, "Let The Mystery Be." That's where I need to be.
Our hearts do go on, Dear.
1 comment:
Indeed, we are but a single thread woven in the vast quilt of humanity. An important thread, never to be removed, intertwined with each other in both life and death. The quilt has but one beginning in God and is never ending. Loved your post.
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