Saturday, May 31, 2014
How callous would it be to be grateful in the wake of the death of one's husband?
If 14 months and 15 days can still be considered "the wake." What is the statute of limitations on that term?
Digression. As usual.
A wave of gratitude washed over me on the way home from yoga last night. It was the TGIF class, a class I had only taken once before, and last night it was filled with two women who talked in the middle of instruction, a dude who came in 20 minutes late, and a woman who came straight from work and was still in a houndstooth sweater and pearls. The two chatty women and the late man "reserved" the back (my normal spot), a practice I hate, so I unrolled my mat in the front and listened to the pouring rain by the open window as I waited for class to start. By the end, I was sweating like a hog, feeling pretty dizzy and thoroughly refreshed.
Driving home through rain-scoured streets, I felt an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for everything good in my life, followed quickly by the image of a fairy dancing on a soap bubble (seriously. This was so vivid in my head I thought maybe was hallucinating from yoga still). The goodness in life is so fragile and fleeting, like a soap bubble that would pop and send the fairy tumbling.
Thankfully, the badness in life, although ever-present and wretchedly, disastrously horrible, can also be fleeting (if not particularly fragile. It's the difference between an anvil and dandelion fluff, bad stuff v. good stuff, in their physical makeup. I find that to be bullshit.). This death is a bit of a hang around (New Orleanian term for "hangover"), but stupidly the phrase "this too shall pass" generally applies. To good stuff, too, unfortunately.
So it's a delicate balance for me, driving home from yoga, feeling the beautiful sensation of gratitude while at the same time being gripped by the fear of what bad will strike us next. There is ample opportunity in the coming months as this move has many moving parts, but I am hopeful.
Image by fauxto_digit