Last year…

Last year at this time disaster was hanging over us like a sorcerer’s cloak – we had no clue what evil was afoot only that it was big and black and scary and we were ill prepared to face it. 

Last year at this time that sorcerer didn’t even have a name, he was hiding and growing and eating his victim alive.  He was winning the battle even before we knew what we were fighting. 

Last year at this time I was terrified – so full of fear and anger I could hardly see straight.  I was at the mercy of someone else’s determination and he was determined to keep himself, and everyone around him, in the dark. If we didn’t acknowledge the sorcerer, or give him a name, maybe we could pretend him away. 

A year ago…. only a year.

Last year at this time our family was in crisis and our journey through the awful months ahead was just beginning.  I can’t help but wonder if we’d known our days were numbered if we would have been gentler with each other.  But we didn’t know we only feared and we feared the worst. 

Nobody is at their best when they are afraid.  No one is a pleasure to deal with when they’re in pain.  We were a bad combination 

A year ago… only a year.

If we had known time was running short would things have unfolded differently?  Would we have lived those last days better or just cried more?  The end was inevitable, knowing wouldn’t have changed that.  Knowledge would have extinguished hope and hope was what kept us going during those last awful weeks – glimmers of hope like a life raft in a hurricane. 

I have spent months knee deep in grief.  There were days during those months when I forgot how to be in the world, forgot how to feel anything but sad.  There were days when only my face was brave, my insides were so broken I could hardly breathe. But things are changing. 

A year has given me perspective if not peace, resolve if not relief.  A year has put distance between fear and me.  The distance has shown me that I don’t have to be afraid anymore, the evil that sorcerer threatened came to pass, the worst thing happened, and I survived.  

A year has placed me at a fork in the road, a place of choice.  One road is wide and straight and familiar, I can pull my wagon full of stuff and impossible questions behind me and stay my course.  The other road is narrower and there is a curve in the distance – I can’t see beyond that curve. There is no room for my wagon on this road but there’s a parking spot for it and a backpack up for grabs. One road feels safe and well traveled the other looks a bit scary and offers adventure. 

I’m choosing the narrower road and taking the backpack.  I’m putting on my big girl pants and choosing the adventure. 

To be continued….