For me, and for you.

I haven't had a lot of words lately; I've been lost in feelings and memories. 

Memories are funny that way. Not ha-ha funny, sad funny. Sometimes the other way around. I look back a lot this time of year. Because life changed dramatically. You don't forget the events that change your very being. 

You remember who broke the news. You remember who helped clean up the messes. You remember who stood with you. You remember life flights, honor walks, and new titles like, widow and survivor. You remember going home for the first time afterwards. Life is divided by before and after. 

Now, there will always be those who think by now you should be over it. Years pass, life goes on. They say it's in the past. They say you'll love again. There is some truth in that. Live does go on. In different ways. You do love again. If you're lucky, you love yourself. You have a greater appreciation for those who bless your life. Some memories, however, carry into the future. That's not a bad thing. 

I realize I'd never be who and where I am without the experiences that shaped me. That the trauma serves a purpose. The life changes bring new blessings. The pain builds my faith. That gratitude is as necessary as breathing. That sharing is caring. That I need to put words to paper. For me, and for you. 

No Good Outcomes

I have a friend going through a time in life where there are no good outcomes. A different situation than my loss, but my heart weighs heavy for her. It triggers memories of seven years ago when there were no good outcomes in my life. 

We hadn't gotten to the worst, but we were on the downhill slide. Each day we lost more ground. Each day, especially in retrospect, it became clearer that things were not right and would never be. 

We were worried and stressed. Friends were concerned for his safety, and for mine. I worried about the dog's safety. So many prayers, so few answers. Each day I'd come home wondering what I'd walk in to. I'd count noses, I'd assess the mood, look for clues, sometimes I'd even do a mental inventory of what might have gone missing while I was gone. Part of me was always on high alert and had been for ages. I can't speak for his progression down the slippery slope, because his reality was different than mine. His pain and experiences were mostly held within. Except for the times they came out sideways. Few people were aware of how it was unfolding. Some knew from what I shared, even then it didn't feel safe to let on.

Therein is a lesson. So often we don't share the pain we are going through. I mostly didn't, but I didn't have much of a voice then. Sometimes in the midst of the storm we can't see how bad it is. We trudge on, in pain, in worry. We do the best we can with the knowledge we have at the time. 

I wish, and always will, that the choices faced ended differently. But we cannot choose for another. We can only choose for ourselves. Choice is a mix of instinct, faith, hope and ownership. It's a process that moves in slow motion or in light speed. Sometimes simultaneously.

I don't know where you are in life. I know we're only as alone as we chose to be. I know sometimes there are no good outcomes. Even in that we have a choice on how we respond. I pray it is with the faith and trust that we can survive the worst storms life offers.