I find it odd…and yet…not…how when one is under extreme
stress with seemingly improbable odds stacked against them, that person could
adopt a serene calm. Not always,
but sometimes….
Such has been the case with me over the past few weeks. For the past year, my life has been in
a chaotic whirl heavily laden with stress and emotional turmoil. Why? Because just after my 27th anniversary, my
husband announced he was divorcing me.
Yes, my world crashed.
Won’t go into the details other than to say that my normally in-control
emotional state was anything but over the months that followed. But all that’s behind me now. My ex and I decided, right from the
start, that we would divorce on the best terms possible. And we have.
I must admit that this is not how I expected me life to be
rolling right now. But then, I’m a
Phoenix. Though I may end up in
the ashes, singed and battered, I do manage to pull myself up. With my divorce I have maintained that
mentality.
A girlfriend, who was also going through her own divorce,
offered helpful advice. She told
me to just accept that over the ensuing year to three following the divorce
announcement, I’d find myself not in control of my emotions. That I’d be happy one minute,
insightful the next, dissolved to tears a moment after that and the emotional
storm would rage on till…till…well…till it was time for it to end.
Today was that day! Why, because I got to take possession of the keys to
my new house. Rather than wallow
in the turn my life took, I decided, yes, I had a choice, to pick up the
tattered pieces of what once was, dust off what I could salvage, lay to rest the
remaining bits and move forward with the positive-hold-no-grudges attitude I
aspire to live my life by.
As a friend was helping me unload my son’s bedroom set I
purchased from a mutual girlfriend, I paused, my spirit lighter than it had
been in…months. What caused that
reaction? I heard the crashing of
the ocean waves from my new driveway.
Choking up, I thought of all who had made this day—my
dream-of-living-at-the-beach—come true.
Top of that list were my grandparents, both of whom I’ve lost over the
past two years.
Those grandparents had a passion for the beach matched only
by my father’s and my own. In each
of us dwelled an undeniable urge to be soothed by the ocean. To gaze out over her splendor and be
lulled by the melody of her waves.
My grandparent’s lived the majority of their lives on island homes while
my father spent the remaining years of his life near the ocean.
As I stood on the tailgate of that truck this evening, my
emotions poured over, realizing that I was the last living one of the four of
us with that insatiable lust for the ocean. I thought of how grateful I was/am to each of them for
instilling in me such a thirst and appreciation for nature.
I’m taking a brief pause to write this. Then I’ll resume moving some
items. Once I finish unloading the
smaller items I’ve brought ahead of the movers, who will relocate me this
Saturday, I’ll offer respect to those family members to whom I’m most grateful
for the awesomeness of today’s events.
How will I do that? I’ll
walk onto the beach, go down on my knees and gaze up at the stars shining down
on me, assured that three of them represent my father and grandparents. And then I’ll give thanks. For all that they were…. All that they shared with me…. All that they taught me…. But most of all, I’ll give thanks for
who they were!
