WSN: Day by Day, with Chris Brandt
We all are familiar with a house that is only a fallacy of what it once was. The house at one time was a place we went to after work or fishing that brought a smile to our faces. You know the smile for which I am talking. A house once filled with our spouse, our kids, and many times, the aroma of dinner being prepared. We looked forward to that and knew when we pulled in the driveway and saw the house; we knew what was waiting.
Admittedly, I felt grief for many months, knowing what was now waiting for me. The house felt like a hollow reminder of what was no more. It was not until recently that I got this scenario straight in my head. The memories of long ago were just the root cause of another meltdown. I decided there are too many of these scenarios. I needed to get one of these off my plate. These “triggers” can bury us, and I decided I am going to confront these triggers one by one.
One evening after I left work and started to head for home, I convinced myself that when I pull in the driveway, I am going to see a house of joy. I am going to see a place that sheltered my now-grown children, a home that sheltered my late wife, and a house that sheltered me. Our home was more than just empty wood; this is a monument of fond memories. This is a place were more memories can be made. That night, I pulled in the driveway, and I remembered the numerous times I got home and saw the wife and kids playing in the yard. I remembered seeing my wife watering the flowers in the circle drive. I also remembered the smile she made when she turned and saw me home from work.
I genuinely believe we have choices in some instances to either remember the joy or to think about what we lost. In no way, shape or form is this easy. It is an act that that requires a conscious effort and will not be a subconscious habit until we do it often. Joy, as we once knew it, has changed, but we all have a choice now of changing and finding joy in new ways.
Be strong, my brothers.
You can reach Chris at firstname.lastname@example.org