When a child is born they need to be held. They need to be rocked and soothed into the comfort of this new world they have been thrust into. In time they roll over. Everyone “oohs and ahhs” over this growth, this new act of development in life. As time continues a tot starts to scoot, the first act of independent mobility. And somehow like magic that scoot becomes a crawl. Knees get raw, bruises are found for the first time. But the crawl is the start of adventure, of journey. When confidence or maybe it is just time happens ~ that toddler begins to walk. Taking baby steps, holding on to items like walls and furniture for dear life. The steps combine to the act of walking, wobbly and unstable but walking nonetheless. And that starts the process of a child creating its own way in the big world.
Maybe I am a baby in the world of widowhood. I long to still be held and rocked but I am past that. There lacks to be anyone here to hold me or rock away the pain of loss. I am scooting and crawling to this new life I am destined to live. I am bruised from all the time I spend on my knees crying. My elbows are scrapped from dragging myself in a new direction, in a new route in life. Like the small child I am scared. I fear falling. I fear moving forward without you. But I crawl. I drag my heart and myself onward in hopes that this path I am on will lead to a stronger ME. Trick, I want to stand, I want to hold onto the sofa of life and take my first steps. But it seems unbearable to take even one step into this scary world without you. I crawl onward. Rug burns of life etched on my soul as I try to rally my inner self to stand, to hold myself up even when my knees are buckling.
I guess it is that I fear that once I start walking, once I take the baby steps ~ that I will be leaving a piece of you behind, a piece of me. I do not have parents “oohing and ahhing” over the growth I have made. My act of being strong enough to roll over and face life each day is not cheered or documented. There is no baby book to be filled with milestones in widowhood. But somehow, I think you are up there cheering me on. You are proud of my ability to roll over and scoot my butt out of bed each day. I am pretty sure you look down delighted as I crawl from day to day. I would guess that you are pleased when you hear me find something to laugh about in life ~ taking those baby steps towards healing. I crawl because I know that one day I will not just walk again, but run. And in the end after I have made my way in this world I get to crawl, scoot, run, walk, dance back into your arms. I think I am going to grab onto the wall of life and try to take step. Will you catch me if I fall? I guess it is time for me to catch myself. Shoes are on, laces are tied… I will walk again one day. I will take the steps needed to heal. I will find my way in this big world. I am ready to take the baby steps, ready to learn how to stand on my own ~ two feet. But know I still need you holding up my spirit as I walk towards this new land that lacks my favorite playmate.
Around the world and back again~