“Who can say where the road goes, where the day goes? Only time.” ~ Enya
As I sit in the coziness of our Cabin 4 in Hills Creek State Park, listening to songs from my "Memorial" playlist, my heart is heavy. We’ve had this weekend trip planned for months, and it just so happened to fall during a time of terrible heartache for so many.
I am so ridiculously blessed. I feel guilty for being here, for having warmth, shelter, food, friends and above all, my family. Who am I to deserve this goodness?
Today I’m writing straight from the heart.
As Superstorm Sandy hit us last week, I thought surely I’d be writing about our efforts for survival. I would complain about the difficulties of keeping the house warm and the refrigerator cold with a single generator. I would brag about how we were able to live it up “Little House style” by using our woodsy smarts.
But I’m not. None of that matters to me right now.
For many of us, this has been a week of annoyance and inconvenience. It’s been dark and cold. We may know people here or in other states who have lost homes, cars, or perhaps even family members to this storm.
But just 24 hours before Sandy struck, one of my friends lost something much greater…her husband. And it wasn’t Sandy’s fault. It was a tragic accident.
For the sake of her privacy, I won’t divulge the details, but suffice it to say she is a 29-year-old widow with three children under the age of seven. What young mother ever imagines losing her love, her best friend and the best father in the world?
As I type, she is at the funeral home, preparing for her 34-year-old husband’s viewing and funeral. No one should have to face this at such a young age.
I wonder how I would handle such a tragedy. How would I tell my children? How would I be able to go on after losing my very best friend?
Every day since I’ve heard about the accident, I’ve prayed that she can remain strong. Yet I feel so helpless and so ignorant to the pain that she’s feeling. I have no idea.
I don’t have the energy to get philosophical right now, but suffice it to say that this event has changed my perspective on my gratitude for how good life is. It’s hit very close to home.
Sandy was one thing, but to see someone who had to deal with the wake of this storm in more ways than one…it just has me in a place of thought and prayer for her and everyone else who is suffering this week.
When I feel this way, I listen to music, I cry, and then I try to move on. But my friend has a lot more to move on from. My vow is to help her in any way I can as she adjusts to this new life.