Who Am I?

I was just reading, The Better Man Project, writing called, You Open the Door and It’s You. It was a great perspective, but it left me wondering. What if you open the door and you don’t know who you are? The only time I can recall a similar feeling is the day of my divorce. The judge asked me if I wanted to take my maiden name back and I said yes, but underneath a part of me asked, “Who is that?” The girl I had once been was definitely not the one I was now. Pain had changed me and I hid a part of myself beneath the one people thought they saw. Humor and talkativeness was how I hid my nervousness and pain. Haven’t you ever done that? I’d had many humiliating moments in which I felt compelled to hide my embarrassment by making fun of myself. I found myself always on the outside with others who were too fragile, too afraid, too weak to push back or in. We were the misfits in society. Young in age and yet aged in spirit from the many trials we faced on a daily basis.

I am not unfamiliar with being on the outside. It seems I’m always looking in from the outside. I recently lost my best friend and soul mate and I am finding it challenging to remember who I am? I’ve always been a fighter, so I don’t go down easily and I have always been able to find my way back up, except this time.

I’ve tried reading excerpts from other blogs on those who’ve lost someone close to them and the almost endless grief and loss they feel and did find myself feeling guilty because my situation wasn’t as overwhelming as theirs. I wasn’t left with 3 children and widowed young and needing to work to meet bills.

There are so many things left unfinished. So many visions, dreams, revelations that are now scrambled like a jigsaw puzzle, and just as I get to the last corner, I already realize that a piece is missing.

Grief overwhelms me like the ground opened up under me and I’m flying downhill on a carpet of moving sand that flows like water to the ravine below. We were never married, but in spirit we were joined and the night I held him when he died is still so heavy on my heart. We had waited a lifetime to find one like ourselves. We so love our Father and raced toward any endeavor that might bring Him glory, but true love had always escaped us.

When you’re young, it’s easy to think you’re in love when someone enters your life and you’re no longer alone. Both of us came from divorced families. We were both 12 when the marriages of our parents ended and our mothers went to work, often for days without coming home. The unfortunate past of an absent parent wreaks havoc on particular children who are left to feel responsible for situations, they are unprepared for and left to handle alone. It leaves you with a fear that everyone you love will leave and unfortunately for us, everyone did leave at some time in our lives.

Some of us in the world are hidden beneath what appears to be a charismatic personality that we wear like a cloak of invisibility. We are seen as strong, but the real truth is that no one ever allows a ‘superman’ to be weak. We are dependable, steadfast, loving, kind, passionate, and with an inability to give up on anything or anyone. So later in life, when we meet someone so much like ourselves, we do what we’ve always done…we love, we are responsible, we persevere and we wait. My waiting ended in one way the day he died. I have hope what God began, He will also complete.

So tonight, my heart remains broken, confused and paralyzed in some part of it that made me who I am. The contagious energy I once possessed has become a bare flicker in the darkness I feel trapped in. I know my family struggles to watch me in such an empty place and most days I can keep going, but the quietness covers a moan that threatens to wail within me. How do I live now without that which gave me life? I will never find another like this beautiful one who made life so fun, so challenging and so, alive!.

Every morning is a reminder that I must force myself to rise up, do what is required of me and hope that maybe I can resurrect and salvage some of the best parts of myself that I gave to this one. So many memories at every turn, every aroma, every meal or piece of clothing reminds me.

I continue because of those who need me. My grand kids, my children, my mother. They need me to continue to be what I have been thus far…an anchor. Unfortunately, that same anchor is attempting to drown me in its wake. So I pray again tonight,”Help me to remember, Help me to forget, help me to know he expects better because he knew me better than any one else did.” But just as that wave lands on the shore of my soul, another voice enters in, “Let me go home, please. Remember me and take me soon.” I try to believe what others tell me when they say it’ll get easier, but you will never forget. Easier? Life is never easy.

I miss you, beloved. I long to hear your laughter, your encouragement, your zest for life and the expectation that it will be fulfilled. Where is my beloved? Bring my heart back to me for half of it is gone. Who will be for me? Who will hear my prayers? Papa, can you hear me? Papa, do you see me? I know that I must stand as we always stood. Pure hearts can seek a higher love.


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