Lines

Our lives are made up of “lines in the sand.”  These lines define many before and after experiences that we consciously or unconsciously plot out our memories with.  Some of these lines are valued as good and made by our own choices - graduation, marriage, having children, starting a new job or changing jobs, buying a house and many more. Some of these lines are drawn for us and are composed of more difficult memories - losing a job, divorce, losing a house, and of course death of someone we love.  I have never really thought of my life in terms of before and after until Tyler’s diagnosis of cancer and Tyler’s death.  Now I often hear myself referring to “before the funeral” and “after the funeral,” “before Tyler got sick” and “after Tyler got sick.” This line in the sand is more of a crack in the sidewalk. The winds of time will not ever blow this line into soft focus… it is carved out of an unchangeable stone.

“Before” seems eons ago - like a dream.  “After” is sometimes a harsh place filled with fleeting thoughts of “why me and not them,” regret, anger, depression, helplessness.  This “after” started out as a wasteland of destruction. I would liken it to being lost in a harsh desert with no water in sight.  I could look across that line and see “before” and the beauty I took for granted but was now out of reach. As we are fast approaching a year living in “after,” the scenery still hurts but I can also begin to see new growth, new beauty, and happiness.  This after land will never be the same as “before” but “after” doesn’t have to be synonymous with  sadness either. There are days I still kick at the wall dividing before and after as hard as I can, scream, cry, beat it with my fists, rage with all my might at it, willing it to disappear. I won’t lie and tell you it doesn’t feel good to vent my frustrations, but it makes me tired and doesn’t solve or change anything and before and after are still here. If instead I approach the line with an acceptance born of necessity I can sometimes gently reach across that line and pick a flower or two to plant in my after. It is in this gentle reflective grief that I can see no matter what side of the line I am on the one constant is God. He was here before, during, and after each life line and will be here for the next line that happens whether good or bad. There is comfort in that constant. He can be an oasis in the desert if we let Him.