New...

"Were it possible for us to see further than our knowledge reaches, and yet a little way beyond the outworks of our divining, perhaps we would endure our sadnesses with greater confidence than our joys. For they are the moments when something new has entered into us, something unknown; our feelings grow mute in shy perplexity, everything in us withdraws, a stillness comes, and the new, which no one knows, stands in the midst of it and is silent." – Maria Rainer Rilke

So I was watching Oprah the other day and they showed a clip from an old show when Dr. Phil used to be on as a guest. He was talking with a woman who was stuck in her grief, 10 years after losing her daughter. She had not been able to move on and let go of the pain and anger. He said something to her that struck a chord with me.

He asked her if her daughter would feel betrayed in some way by her mother moving on and leading a happy life. The lady of course replied that her daughter would not feel betrayed by her moving on, but rather would actually be mad at her mother for continuing to be miserable every day. Her daughter wouldn't want that kind of life for her.

Dr. Phil replied, "Maybe the betrayal is focusing on the day of her death and not on the event of her life."

This hit close to home for me. I find myself continuing to struggle with the idea of moving forward, finding joy, and living again rather than merely existing. Sometimes I feel like it is a betrayal to not still be debilitated with grief. But at the same time, I'm really tired of being emotionally drained, and want to have the same optimism about life that I used to carry with me before I became a widow.

Hearing Dr. Phil reframe it in this way made me realize that I can celebrate the life he had and the life we had together, without focusing on his death, which was really only one day in the grand scheme of his life. He is so much more than his death. He truly would not want me to be miserable every day. He would want me to feel fulfilled, and excited about life and my future. He would celebrate how far I've come, and he would encourage me to continue to carve out a new life for myself.

Many days I still feel caught between two worlds. The life I had, and the new life I must now create. Going through this process is like being stripped to the core and rebuilding from scratch. Relearning what you value, how you view things, and who you want to be.

As the quote above says, "...a stillness comes, and the new, which no one knows, stands in the midst of it and is silent."
A stillness, a sense of peace eventually comes and you realize that it is okay to be new again.
To start over.
The newness stands silent, waiting patiently, until you are ready to accept that it is there, then it welcomes you with open arms and allows you to become whatever it is that you want to be...