Love is letting go of fear.

A long time ago I read a book by Jacob Jampolski called  Love is Letting Go of  Fear.  That title exactly describes what I'm going through at this time.  The question I confront is whether or not I can live a loving life without Gwen in it, and, therein lies the fear.  I know I can do it; I've been doing it since November 12, 2010, the day Gwen died.  And, I feel so blessed and fortunate to have friends, family and three grandchildren and four children whom I love dearly.  It's just that sometimes it seems so utterly pointless. . .  A day at a time, a day at a time.

Friends help so much in this struggle.  A couple of days ago my friend, Mary, graciously agreed to attend a Gordon Lightfoot concert with me.  We agreed that the concert was OK, but, in general, kind of disappointing.  We have each lost someone whom we dearly loved, and it is somewhat disconcerting to face up to the fact that if we are going to make something of our lives there will be more occasions when we must face the fear that accompanies doing things that seem strange and uncomfortable.  We understand that we simply are not the kind of people who will lead pointless lives.

That was three days ago; now it's Saturday night, and I've come home from the football game, and it feels good to sit down and relax.  Today has been another of those days when I've had these intensely real remembrances of Gwen.  Until this year, when I was away at the game I would find it comforting to call Gwen and tell her about my day.  She was always interested, and would  tell me that she was glad that I was out doing things, but would be so happy to see me when I got home.  There were so many times today when I thought of giving Gwen a call.

After the game, I got caught up in traffic, and found myself feeling impatient and in a hurry.  Then the thought came to me that there was no need to be feeling that way.  I would get home when I got home, and the house would be just as empty two hours from now as it would be an hour from now.  I always feel kind of whiny when I write about feeling that way, and I don't intend it to be that way; it's just an attempt on my part to talk about how it feels to recognize and accept that someone whom I loved dearly and who made me a complete person is gone--forever.

So, Dear, tonight I'm feeling pretty blue; and missing you.  I look at the picture of that happy couple at the house on Eli, and feel fortunate and blessed that I had that life with you. I look back over the long course of our life and love together and realize that, no matter when, you were always so beautiful. Eventually I suppose that will be enough, but tonight I wish it it didn't have to be only a memory.  The love I feel for you will always be greater than any of my fears.