My Pain is a Small Price to Pay for Her Peace

I was speaking with a friend recently, and he asked me the question everyone in the group gets asked frequently but with a different twist.  “How are you doing?  I know it’s been over three years since your wife died.  Are you seeing anyone?  Are you thinking about moving or retiring?  What are your plans”?  I paused before I answered and did what Irishmen usually do: I responded to his question with a question.  I said, Dave, do you think I need to be on a schedule or have a plan for my future?  Startled, he seemed taken back and said, “I didn’t mean to offend you.  I thought it’s been over three years, and things would be different with you.  I told him I was not offended and decided to use his question as a teaching moment.

Unfortunately, we live in a society that dislikes talking about death.  Death and taxes are the two taboo subjects.  Nobody wants to discuss them; most wish they would avoid our ordinary conversations.  Over the past three years, I have learned that death is a topic I speak about quite often and one I want to share with others how it affected my life.  I want others to know about my great lessons from death.  I told my friend grief is and always will be part of my life.  It’s not the summation of my existence, but it has challenged me to focus on how I view the world.

As the primary caregiver for my wife for several years, I learned from her how to struggle with an illness and how to continue to enjoy and cherish life.  My wife always saw life as a gift.  She taught me to appreciate each day and give thanks for the days that offer growth opportunities.  Despite being in pain, my wife always smiled.  She laughed at my corny jokes and shared funny stories about relatives and friends.  She taught me that life is so short and precious that it is essential to stop and give thanks for what I have and show empathy to others.

I learned from my late wife that change is the essence of life.  Taking those steps, difficult as they are, and feeling alone and afraid as I go out into a cold and harsh world, yet knowing I have the confidence that I can do those things that frighten me.  I can socialize with a variety of people.  I can become part of a group that meets to pursue a hobby or fun activity.  I have also met many people who have felt the same loss I experienced, and their strength and courage inspire me as they move forward in life.  

My world has changed; it’s different because my partner is not with me, but I can move forward and find the new me.  To answer my friend’s question, Dave, I am doing well.  I have not chosen to find another love, but it does not mean I am not open to the idea.  My future is what I decide to make it.  I love working and enjoy the camaraderie I share with the team with whom I work.  I find joy in traveling and visiting with friends and relatives.  My life will never be the same, but the future offers endless possibilities.  My late wife taught me an invaluable lesson before she died; she told me to bravely go on and to find things I like and live life passionately because one day, it will end for me.  Yes, my pain is a small price for her peace.