What in the Hell do I do now, Morrissey?

(Caution: The content of this post may be a little heavier than previous posts, and it may be hard for some of you to read. I feel I have the ability to share these thoughts because I've already discussed them with those closest to me. If you choose to read these words, read them carefully and try not to get the wrong idea.)

It is an odd feeling to wish that you yourself had died. Notice what I said there. I didn't say that I wish I was dead, nor did I say I wish to die. What I said was, for the first time in my life I had experienced feelings where I wished I had died.

In the immediate days and weeks following the accident, I had moments where I wished that I had died alongside my wife. Why would I experience that? It's pretty obvious really. She was the love of my life, and facing life without her was too much to bear. To be perfectly honest, facing life without her by my side is still too much to bear from time to time. But, again I say, it was the feeling of wishing that I had died. Not the feeling of wishing I was dead, and doing something foolish about it.

To wish that I had died, is to wish that I didn't have to experience all of this pain. It is to wish that I didn't have to be physically separated from her. It is to wish that I didn't have to go on planning a life without her.

When I think about this, I think of  lyrics from "There is a Light that Never Goes Out" by The Smiths: "And if a double-decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die. And, if a ten ton truck, kills the both of us; to die by your side, well the pleasure and the privilege is mine." (It may sound morbid, but trust me, it's a beautiful song.) I think of the lyrics and how much I've liked the song over the years, but then I think, "wait, I didn't die, what in the Hell do I do now Morrissey?"

I think that many of us, if not all, have this illusion that we're going to die peacefully in our old age simultaneously with our spouse. Okay, maybe we're not that naive. But honestly, many of us never acknowledge the fact that living out a life with someone does mean that one of you is probably going to die before the other. I don't say this to depress you, nor do I say it with hope that you will dwell on it. I say it because I've discovered that it is an unfortunate reality.

So now, having lived, I have to ask myself; what do I do now?

In short, the answer is...live.

Some folks will say to me, you survived for a reason. I know that they mean well when they say it. But, it often implies that I lived for a reason and my wife died for a reason. Then we get back to the notion that everything happens for a reason, and I don't believe that everything happens for a reason. To follow this line of thought theologically, one has to suppose that God took my wife and God spared me. I don't believe that. And, as I've explained in a previous post, I don't believe that God is the source of our tragedies.

Though I don't believe that I survived for "a reason", I believe that I should derive purpose from my ongoing survival. I've always tried to live a meaningful life, the accident amplifies my reason for continuing to do so.

I continue to live so that I may continue to love. Life is too short not to love. Tiffany's love completed me and taught me the meaning of true love. I must go forward living with that love in my heart, using that love to carry me forward and sustain me.

I continue to live so that I may love, bless, and serve others. This was what Tiffany and I did as a couple, this is what I must continue doing so that the beautiful parts of her that live on in me may be made present.

I continue to live because I believe that God is not finished. God is not finished restoring this world, and God is not finished restoring me. I believe that God still calls me, even in my darkest hour, to serve others. (I say that knowing that I must take care of myself before I can take care of others, and I am.)

I continue to live because even in the midst of all of this pain, I know that life is still worth living. I know that alongside great sorrow, there is still great joy. My friends and my family remind me of this every single day.

Might I add that continuing to live would be a whole lot easier if this damned winter would come to an end.

It is an odd feeling to wish that you yourself had died. It is an even more odd feeling to go on living life without the person you planned on growing old with. But, it is because of the love that we shared, that I know that life is worth living. There is a lot of life left to live, I'm going to try to make it count.

Grace and Peace,
Robert