Serenity

I've experienced a mental tug-of-war the past seven-plus months. I have an intellectual understanding of death that tells me Sandy is gone for good, but my emotional understanding of our relationship tells me that she wouldn't leave me. Rather than reconciling the two, I've ricocheted back and forth. I've accepted the loss for as long as I can stand it, and then I've sprung back into believing that she'll return. That refuge has refueled me so that I can continue doing the things I need to do. But that refuge is starting to fade.

After the series of messages I received from the universe recently, I thought I'd gotten the point. The message to me seemed to be that I didn't have to actively do anything to get her back; I just needed to pay attention if she returned. That understanding eased some of the tension I felt, the sense that I needed to find the path back for her.

She's strong enough that if she can come back,
she won't need my help. And she's just enough
of a ham that she'd probably want to surprise
us all, anyway. So I'll stop holding on so hard
and try to be grateful for the time we had when
she was alive and for the presence she
continues to share so often now.

But then there was another message, in the season premiere of a show we used to watch together. The main character sees a friend die but can't believe he's really gone. Other characters tell him he needs to deal with his issues around mortality and accept the truth, but he clings to his belief that the friend survives until DNA evidence proves that his friend is dead. I watched the show intently, seeing it mirror my own denial, and then, of course (because why else would they have made such a big deal over the denial?), the person really is still alive. A plot twist (a predictable one), but also a message. It's not just that I don't need to do anything to get her back. I don't even need to believe she's coming back. If through some miracle of physics, she should reappear, it won't require my belief or focus.

That's a good thing, because I'm coming to realize that in order to move forward, I need to let go of the fantasy that she could return, even while I embrace the knowledge that she's often here. 

It's become clear to me that I needed the fantasies, the disbelief, the denial simply to survive. Now, I don't expect to thrive, exactly, but I think that I can go on without them. Or at least, I can enjoy them without needing to believe they'll come true. And I'll know that, no matter what I believe, if she can come back, she won't need my help to do it.

I woke this morning thinking of the serenity prayer:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference. 

I've always been fine with the courage part, and I'm relatively astute at actually knowing the difference. But that knowledge hasn't kept me from trying to change the things I can't. And now? Now, I think I'm ready for a little serenity.