Monday, February 18, 2019

The Joy Counterpart

I have been remembering Santi.  I wrote that each events reminds me of what I was doing last year at the same time.  All of this year has had Santi interwoven in all the events.  I remember last year's All Church Hike.  I thought Valentine's Day was going to be the worst but my friends made sure that I was good for that day.  It was the All Church Hike that did something.  In all honesty, I also have a pinch of PMS so there's that. 

I want to talk about how we met.  I want to tell about how he got the name, "Santi." I want to tell you about our marriage and our relationship.  I want to tell you about how we got engaged.  We had a million inside jokes.  I spent more than half my life with him.  We spoke the same way.  We understood each other even when we weren't talking. A part of me looks back and thinks, "What could I have done better?"  Then I remember the sovereignty of God.  It was Santi's time to go home.  This is my truth.  God is in control.  I will rely on His Providence. 

People ask, "Was it expected?"  Don't ever ask anyone that.  Death is never expected.  There is this implication that if someone knew the death was coming, then it is easier to handle.  Death is not easier to handle no matter what the circumstances are.  I had a grandparent who cried in my office recently over the death of her demented mother who died having reached triple digits.  She cried and mourned because death is personal.  Santi's death was not expected.  I knew he wasn't doing well and he was struggling but I didn't know he would pass.  People deal with death in different ways.  Sometimes it isn't even about the person who died but about who we are without them.   

Santi didn't go with us last year on the All Church Hike.  Somehow we wound up on the other side of the mountain and another group ended up on the other side.  We ended up doing the Shaw Butte trail off of 7th St. in Phoenix.  Yes, you can hike in this city.  The hill was practically vertical.  I did it with just me and my kids.  I wished that Santi was there with us but I knew he would hate it.  It took us four hours to climb up the mountain and back down.  We were exhausted.  We ended up going to Denny's and I remember calling Santi to let him know how it went.  "I want Denny's!"  I remember him saying.  We got him a sizzling platter to go and he loved it. 

This weekend I was in the parking lot of the same Denny's telling the story to my kids and I started to cry.  The Denny's was closed for maintenance which is just as well.  We found a much better one to go to and then we went to the movies.  We are forging our own way, a new way. 

I have been showing my kids old movies in order to have a well rounded movie history.  This is what I tell myself but I just like the old stuff better.  This weekend, we saw two movies that reminded me of Santi.  Santi loved The Terminal with Tom Hanks.  It was one of those movies that only he would love.  He had a thing for so many movies but every now and again he would favor this type of movie.  Another movie that he loved was Dan in Real Life.  This weekend I introduced my daughter to An Affair to Remember (this is all me.  I love Cary Grant!!!), The Terminal and The Sixth Sense.  I couldn't even finish The Terminal with my daughter but in the evening we sat down to watch The Sixth Sense.  I wasn't thinking when I put it on but when I first saw it, with Santi, I remember telling him that Bruce Willis was dead like 10 minutes into the movie.  He was so upset with me.  He set out to ruin every movie for me the way that I ruined this movie for him.  It was one of our 'things.'  He would tell everyone how I ruined the movie for him.  He was funny that way. I remember the story as I watched the movie and I thought, "How could he not be here?  How could he not be the one to tell the story of this movie?"  I didn't think when I put it on about how there was a widow, missing her husband in the movie.  I didn't think about how the movie dealt with death and grieving.  I found myself crying in the end... again. 

I am healing.  I am talking about my loss.  When trauma happens, it's like a wound really.  You don't even want to look at it.  Eventually you check to see where the pain is and how bad it is.  Eventually, with healing, you dig deeper to see if there even is pain.  There will always be the scar there, throbbing when the storms hit.  The wound may have affected muscle, bone or nerves.  It may take longer to heal than you thought.  Healing requires rest and sometimes therapy.  There are days that I don't know what I'm doing.  There are moments when it hurts but I know that I am not alone.  God, the Creator of the universe is with me at all times.  I also know that I am healing.  I choose joy at what I have and not look at what I don't have or what I have lost.  I am thankful.  Every painful point has it's joy counterpart. 

Tomorrow I want to talk about how I'm just a blade of grass.  Until then... God bless.

No comments:

Post a Comment