Eleven Months

We are living the eleventh month since his passing – the first anniversary of a life changing event looms within eyeshot. My first thought these mornings is of last year at this time and I find myself stepping out of bed to relive agony.  I can’t seem to resist the temptation to poke the dragon of grief in my heart.  I beat myself up with ‘what ifs’ and ‘if only-s’ and let regret have its way with me for awhile before I shake it off and face the day.

Years ago a doctor informed me that if a person lived beyond age forty-five without a major medical event they were on borrowed time.  I was young and scoffed at the notion, a major medical event in my mind back then had death knocking on the door and vultures circling the sky.  I’m twenty years beyond that best before date, older and (I hope) wiser.  I’ve been living on borrowed time.  I realize now that a major medical event doesn’t necessarily kill a person, it changes them. 

I spent years being complacent and taking things for granted; my energy, stamina and strength.  My tomorrows laid before me like an endless field of possibilities.  I was living an eternal spring. That was then – now I have days when that field of possibilities looks more like a field of challenges – winter is approaching and I’m ill prepared to face it. 

So much has happened in the past year my life has become fragile and I am brittle. I feel very mortal, all certainty has been sucked out of the place where my confidence lives and I find I’m checking for monsters under the bed almost on the daily.  I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I’ve had a reality check.  Life is short. 

The major medical event that changed my life happened to someone else but I’ve been left to cope with the consequences and it feels like learning to walk again.  I’ve been stumbling along for eleven months waiting for the day when grief would stop tripping me – it is persistent but I’ve learned that I am too. I will keep walking and tripping and moving forward. Life has changed, that’s true, and I am mortal – but I’m not vulnerable anymore, I’m not fearful. Learning to walk alone has taught me I’m strong and that field of challenges is also a field of opportunities.