This week will mark the six-month anniversary of Lindy’s passing. How are we? Well, we’re smiling more when we remember her and crying a lot less. Each day that goes by, we get a little better. Life will never, ever be the same for us, but we’re embracing the future with more hope than grief now. We lived, we stopped living, now we’re moving forward again. A large semi-colon called cancer placed a huge period and now a comma in our lives. And, with hope comes new possibilities and a renewed sense of who we are as a family of five minus the one.
Now, I am trying to re-find myself. Who am I? I lost who I was many years ago. The illness, care-giving and caring for the kids and about everything else wore me down to the point where I couldn’t find joy in anything. I realize this now as I am healing and finding that joy and happiness back. Looking back now, I’m so thankful that I’m at a place where I can see that. There appears to be a light at the end of the long, dark tunnel.
Lindy told me she wanted me to move on with my life. I thank God that she and I were able to have those gut-wrenching conversations while she was still here. I would hold her and sob telling her that I couldn’t do it alone. She would assure me that the kids and I would be okay. I can still hear her on her deathbed reassuring me as she slipped away. You know, she was right – I am (we are) doing it (thanks to a large supporting cast). The semi-colon says stop, breathe and then start again. To me, the semi-colon is a poetic symbol for the story of our lives.