I've been a widower for almost nine months now (for the second time). I've been a pastor for forty-six years now. I tell you this: Until you have lost a spouse you have no idea what grief is. I think back on all the times I tried to be a pastor throughout those years to the grieving widows and widowers. I look back and I realize how pathetic were my well-intentioned efforts. No one can prepare you for the devastation of mourning. And no one can comfort you adequately.
But, sad as the cliché may be, life does go on. There comes a day when you wake up and realize that your spouse is dead and you are not. And as much as being the surviving spouse just sucks, you are the survivor and you are living. Life, then, must be acknowledged. Life then must be claimed. Life must, by its very definition, go on.
I embraced the fact I must go on. I embraced it right after taking my eight-year-old granddaughter on our Excellent Alaskan Adventure, of which I written on these pages. Having that child hug me with her unbridled love, having that child's enthusiasm for the future infect me, I decided to live every day I am alive.
With that decision I've begun to rearrange my life. And so, despite my aged back that cries out in protest every inch of the change, I have begun to move on. The carpet needs to come up in the two rooms that still possess them. There's laminated hardwood floors to be installed. Lynn's not here anymore; there's no reason her sewing room cannot be turned into the grandchildren's room. And the kitchen, oh, the kitchen, just an acknowledgment of the century I live in demands some modifications to the kitchen.
I've measured. I've drawn up plans. I've made a priority list of changes. I've shopped and found a trundle bunk bed at a reasonable price, allowing me to have three grandchildren overnight at once. I've drawn up plans for the kitchen renovation, including the new ceramic tile floors. And, to tell you the truth, the present living room furniture is on the schedule of change; I only said I liked it because Lynn did. I'm well on my way to living beyond the grief and embracing the yet-to-be-discovered blessings of life.
Part of the renovations are centered on my little study. I plan to spend a lot of time there writing little essays as this. I need it to be conducive to stimulating my creative spirit. It's going to be a homey office, if you will. So, I'm making changes. One of those is putting some cabinet/bookcases in what is now the closet, thereby allowing more “living space” in the work area. And part of the placement of the cabinet/bookcases in the closet involved removing the shelving. It's that wire-like shelf so prevalent in modern homes. It was in removing that shelf I discovered there's one change I do not have to make.
There's a brace for that shelf, running from the front of the shelf to the wall, giving it support. When I removed that brace, I discovered it's perfect for scratching the back. It's long enough to reach all areas; the angle of the edge provides the perfect tension. It's wonderful.
Who would have thought. With the discovery of that unique back scratching device, I don't need to get married again.

Recent Comments