Joy will come again ...

Phone call to Bill ... "Hey, guess what?  I did the 5 miles in less than an hour this morning!"  "That's great!  Must have been quite the march with those short legs of yours - hup... two, three *chuckle*." ... early July 2010.

This conversation played in my mind this morning, as I "marched" around the lake and wandered up and down the hills of the city. 

It is so hard to remember what it felt like before Bill died.  Although snippets of conversations such as this one come back, the excitement associated with the accomplishment is not there.  This morning, I accomplished the same thing ... 5 miles in 56 minutes, but where was the excitement?  Actually, I did feel; I think I pulled something!  *groan* there is actual physical pain!

In the early days of grief, everything was measured by the first times ... the first time I had to replenish groceries, the first time I mowed the lawn, the first time I .... How is it that I can remember how that felt like?

Then I learned how to breathe ... imagine that.  I certainly remember that night, when I was sharing with another widow online, and she simply said ... "Stop for a moment and tell me, are you breathing?"  How simple it was, yet so transforming!  How is it that I can remember how that felt like?

Nearing our first year anniversary, things seem to be measured by the seasonal milestones ... birthdays, Christmas, New Years, anniversary ...  How is it that I can remember the weeks, days and hours leading up to these milestones and how it felt like?

On my dark days, I wonder if it will always be like this and quickly seek shelter in the moment.  On my gentle days, I refuse to believe that God has taken from our hands and not have something in place to fill our arms.  On those days, I inch out of myself, and give my heart permission to dare to dream.

My heart ... what an interesting place.  It can be the sweetest, most gentle thing I have and yet it can sometimes make me feel miserable, angry and confused all at once.  But as I dare to dream again, I realize that my heart is open, and I and dealing, and I am breathing.