Supposed to.....those two words come to mind today.
It was "supposed to" snow and instead it is raining.
Our family was given a great inside view to the newest grandson who will arrive in a few months and I am "supposed to" feel complete but something is lacking; or rather someone is lacking.
Marah and I got our first real estate listing yesterday and I'm "supposed to" be happy but I'm still sad.
Whatever life is "supposed to" be doesn't really matter though. The sun comes up every morning and the day does its own thing. Whatever we think our "supposed to's" ought to be hardly matter. I can't change this rain to snow. I cannot cause my husband to be alive with me here to share in the joy of a new grandson or first achievements in my new career. My Pirate Husband was "supposed to" be alive.
Oh, in December I did sit down with my trusty Franklin Planner and write down my strengths and weaknesses; I put my dreams into goals that could be reached by cutting them into tiny, chew-able pieces. I realized that all the wrinkles I want to iron out are just waves I have to learn to ride. Nothing is ever going to be as it was "supposed to" be or what I thought it was "supposed to" be. It's sink or swim here.
Lasse said to me during his last few days while I begged him not to complete the Hospice protocol, "The first six months will be the worst." Well, as usual he was wrong. There were times when he did say, "Baby, you were right about that." But that type of reflection is impossible now. Forty weeks. It has been forty weeks and I am still anguished to be separated from him.
"O death, where is your sting?" That sting is in a thousand moments every day. You want to touch and taste and smell and hear and behold the one whom your soul loves with your own eyes. But no. And the sting of the blade of death sears you again and the wound does not heal.
My darling Pirate Husband,
"Wherever you are is my home, my true home."
