I've had some time lately to reflect on all that has happened in the last few years. I know that many say it all happens for a reason, and they're probably right. What the reason is, most of the time, we don't know. Would we want to?
I don't think I appreciated my mom and dad enough, until the cancer came and they were there for me 100%. I always knew they would be there, but I guess none of us realize just how much family will sacrifice for you until it happens.
If I had not gotten cancer, would I have the true friends I do now? Would my best friends include Kevin's step-children? Some of Chalan's friends became our friends as well. The changes that happened in my life, and Kevin's too, were a direct result of our illnesses. Believe me, I am not grateful for our health problems, nor that of my parents, but I am grateful for the friends, family and the good changes that came into our lives because of them. Though life seems so difficult for so many of us at times, if we look for the magic, it's there.
I miss Kevin terribly, each and every moment of the day but I am not lonely. This cabin was so much ours, that I don't think I'll ever feel completely alone here. There's too much of him, of him and me here. I walk outside and see the three big rocks we rolled out of the woods-him laughing at me falling on my face when it finally took off downhill. I look at the "trinkets" I have all over the porch and remember how he'd sigh, roll his eyes a bit and say "whatever makes you happy, sweetie pie". The fairies, candles, witchballs, dragonfly ladies, the hickory woman and such, just fit here, and always have. Just like we did, together.
I still have all of his things around me and probably will for quite some time. I need the comfort of his essense right now and that's okay. It's part of the grieving process. I won't make this cabin a shrine to him, he would get hightly pissed off if I did that! We had plans of things to do inside and outside, and I'll do my best to do them as I can. Even though over time, the cabin will become different, it will essentially always be the same in many ways. It will always be mine and Kevin's home that we created together. Nothing can change that. As Bob Dylan's song The Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest says, “It’s not a house . . . it’s a home”.
Am I doing okay? I think so. But, we all know our perception of our behavior and what the world sees are often two different things. I don't get lonely, like I said, and there are a lot of things that I want to do. I have to admit, some days, I don't "do" anything. I don't have to. If that is considered depression, I believe I differ in opinion. I feel that, on days like that, I am subconsciously making a plan for the future, thinking, reasoning, etc. I am not one to be put down for long.
Some days I feel very sad and almost disoriented. You know, the something (or someone) is missing feeling? Today is a sad day. I'd like to just hide away in the woods away from the world, but I know I can't, nor is it healthy to do that. So, I will leave these enchanted woods (as I always called them) and go out into the world as we know it. But I'll be back, and be welcomed home.
I'll be just fine, I know that.