I don't really believe in "meant to be." I don't believe in "all things happen for a reason." And I certainly don't believe god includes terrible things in his plan for our lives. I wish I did - finding comfort might be a little easier. Although I'm feeling a bit abandoned, I don't blame god. That seems too easy. Blaming, throwing blanket statements of dismissal at it - these seem to only postpone the hurt. Instead, I've been trying to let myself feel as much pain as possible so I don't explode by holding it in. How else can I heal enough to function when I haven't dealt with all of the chaos inside?
It is not difficult to understand why these comforting ideas are tempting and I frequently have thoughts in the same vein before I wake up from what feels like an illogical dream. I've never been so exhausted to just be in my own head so the mental and emotional break does me some good. If I did believe, I might have some things to say.
I might say that maybe this is why we fell in love so darn fast. Why we bought a house before we bought a wedding. It could be why we had such a terrible time trying to live apart when we thought we were going to transition to a new city. Why I missed him so much when he was away for referee assignments. Maybe this is why Daphne was a wonderful surprise. Maybe this is why we didn't move to that other city - so I would have my group of friends and a stable career to lean on. Maybe this is why Daphne talked so early - so her dad could get to know her as much as possible. Maybe this is why she walked a little late - so he could hold her a little longer. Maybe this is why "our song" was actually a very sad song when the second verse was included.
If I entertained the idea that there was reason behind it all, I might think that this is why I was so unsettled the weekend before I lost him - I was crabby and hung up on (and a bit panicked about) getting the perfect family photo at a fall festival we attended. It's probably why we held hands in the car all the time. It didn't matter the length of the trip. I'm sure it's why we said I love you so much. If we said our morning goodbyes, and I came back into the house to grab some forgotten item, he would say it all over again. I love you. I'm sure it's why we actually had many conversations about how happy, how lucky, we were to have found each other.
The sunset was stunning on the day we had to say goodbye. After his funeral, my family scooped me up and brought me to stay with them for the week. Before we left town that afternoon the sky looked like something unreal. Purple and orange streaked the sky in rope-like clouds that shot out from the sun in every direction. It was the most vibrant October sky I can recall. And when I rode east, away from those clouds and my house, I felt like I was leaving him behind. Like he was physically being ripped away from me all over again. If I thought it was real, I might say those clouds were there for a reason.
Two Sundays ago my family surprised me with a birthday party at my house. A day I didn't think I could bear alone was made tolerable and even happy by their presence and thoughtful gestures. Still, they had to leave hours before I could reasonably go to bed so I felt incredibly alone before they even left. When I walked them outside on this gorgeous, unseasonably warm January day, that airbrushed sky was back. This time, the color was more pink than purple. The clouds were smoother, and instead of radiating from a specific point of light, they were smeared across the entire sky. I spun around in my driveway to see that in every direction it looked like someone had pressed a handful of color. Science tells me that this is because the temperature literally dropped 40 degrees that night and those clouds were a front moving quickly. This is true. But if I really wanted to believe it, I bet I could convince myself that it was him - everywhere and in every direction for just a few minutes until another day ended with the sun.
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