thoughts and anniversaries
Thursday, January 25, 2007 -- 5:59pm
Posted by Bar


It's been a long time (nearly 2 years) since I've written to all of you 
through this personal e-mail list. This list is an extension of the one 
that began when Forrest got sick 6-and-a-half years ago. As we approach 
the fifth anniversary of his death on the 9th of February, there's lots 
to think about and to talk about. I hope that you don't mind this 
intrusion after so long, but as always I am grateful to have you all in 
my life.

In December, Peter and I celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary. On a 
day that should have been a great day, we decided that things weren't 
so great in our marriage that we wanted to celebrate it too much. We 
both somehow got to a place where the sadness that has followed in the 
wake of Forrest's death was still so pervasive that it was, in fact, 
killing us and our marriage. I tell you all of this because I've pretty 
much told you everything else in my life so you might as well know this 
too! However, there is a happy ending (in process), and that's why I 
decided to reflect on it as thoughts of Forrest begin to fill my heart 
again in the coming couple of weeks.

Statistics suggest that losing a child is a great way to wreck a 
perfectly good marriage. Peter and I are no different from others in 
this way except for the fact that we are both committed to growing as 
individuals and to learning what it takes to experience love with 
another human being. Needless to say, it would be easier for both of us 
to just move on and try to forget everything that has happened in the 
last 8 years and perhaps even pretend that it never happened at all. 
Having a new romance has seemed to both of us a good way to shake the 
blues that we've both felt.

But Peter is a remarkable man, and he could see that any decision that 
we would make that would dissolve our marriage would require serious 
and deep consideration on both of our parts and that there was 
absolutely no rush. I, on the other hand, am quick to change things 
especially when they are uncomfortable. His suggestion was that we stay 
in this place of discomfort for a while, knowing that perhaps this 
marriage was not going to last forever, and see what freedom or 
knowledge we could gain from simply living that way for a period of 
time.

Well, all I can say is the man is a genius!

Our goal for ourselves has become not one of helping the other over our 
grief, or worse, waiting for the other to save us from our grief, but 
to simply begin to live again. "Live" in the sense that we choose to do 
the things that give us joy as individuals. Fill our own cup, as it 
were, instead of somehow waiting for Time to heal us, or some outside 
force to change the dynamics of our life (like a new job, or a new 
house, or another person who would distract one of us from the other). 
And now the universe is saying: "Finally!" It's saying "ok, it's time 
to be back on your feet, loving your life, enjoying waking-up and 
getting out of bed and doing the things that you love and which bring 
meaning to your life". And since this shift began, Peter's been invited 
by Cornell's Ornithology Lab to help with their work finding the 
Ivory-billed Woodpecker for the month of February in Arkansas, and I've 
met a woman who is so dynamic and so committed to doing good in the 
world, that I am going with her to Zimbabwe in November to help her 
with her mission to rebuild a village there. It feels as though when 
Peter and I hit rock bottom our only choice was to actively choose to 
live again. And when we chose to live, things started lining up for us. 
Oddly enough, the sadness of missing Forrest and not knowing how to 
continue in this life without him, has finally lifted. I don't know how 
to explain it, but it's as if the moment Peter and I recognized that we 
couldn't save one another, we actually set each other free to begin to 
live again. The result is that we can love Forrest without the pain 
that we were feeling before. We can miss him. We can love him more than 
anything. We can be inspired by all that he did in his short but 
vibrant life, but it doesn't need to cost us our own joy.

I hope that this makes some sense and that my thoughts are somehow 
relevant to your life. I look around and I see so many of us struggling 
with the usual things that life provides for each of us. Today I feel 
like Peter has taught me a wonderful lesson: to stick around even when 
it's uncomfortable to do so; and, to fill my own cup so fully that it 
overflows.

In my yoga class this afternoon, my teacher, Cory, read a prayer that 
Eleanor Roosevelt said out loud on her knees by her bed every night 
while she was working at the UN. I can't quote it, but the essence of 
it was that she asked God for the wisdom and courage to see the beauty 
and good in the simple things in our lives. She asked for the wisdom to 
see the Glory in each of us who hide our beauty from others for 
whatever reason. Seems to me that when we fill our own cups, we are 
basically filling up on joy and that that joy will overflow to everyone 
who sees us. It's good and contagious stuff, isn't it?

Food for thought anyway.

I wish you all well. Stay warm.

Love,
Bar