Monday, August 7, 2017

When Two Becomes One Again~

You know what it is?"
I ask out loud to a living room of one.
"It's the whole "two are better than one" principle.
That's exactly what it is."

(And, admittedly,
talking out loud to myself
is part of what it is, too.)

Two are better than one,
because they have a good return for their labor.
If either of them falls down,
one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
and has no one to help them up.
Also, if two lie down together,
they will keep warm.
But how can one keep warm alone?
Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
~Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

One too many ice cream shakes.

Far too many sleepless nights.

Harder falls with even harder pick-me-back-ups.

Too much taking myself seriously and not enough of you to put my eyes back on God.

"Yes, this is what it is, Handsome."

Marriage isn't easy,
make no mistake about that.
Two lives, two minds, two hearts,
two dreams, two opinions,
two "know it alls" trying to mesh into one.

No wonder marriage is for life -
without a doubt,
it takes a lifetime for the "two to become one".

It takes a whole lot of dancing to learn the steps
and to finally enjoy waltzing through life.

But, what happens when death cuts in
(unwelcome, uninvited, unplanned)
and leaves you dancing on the dance floor alone?

What happens when on of the two
who have become one,
is now one again?

Yes, two people becoming one flesh is hard.

The only thing harder:
Becoming one again after having been joined as two.

Yes, I have family.
And, yes, I have friends.
And, yes, Handsome -
everyone has gone above and beyond
to encourage,
to comfort,
to support,
to be there for me,

But the thing is this:
No one knows me like you do.

No one understands my hopes
and is aware of my fears.
No one can predict how I will react
before I react.
No one can hear
what my eyes are saying.
No one can talk me down,
talk me up,
balance me out and keep me grounded.
Like you.

No one knows our history.
No one can sight a leading of God in the past
to encourage me to step out into the future.
No one can quote a scripture with a memory connected to it.
No one can rekindle my faith,
reboot my courage,
re-ignite my passion.
Like you.

Except God.
And, of course,
God is always the exception
who is exceptional at all of this
and so much more.

But, I miss the second best part of me, -
the part that was second best
to the best part of me,
God.

I miss my dancing partner.
I miss your words, and your humor.
I miss your look and your hand in mine.
I miss your zeal and your enthusiasm,
I miss your honesty and your spontaneity.
I miss your hugs and your wrapping me in prayer
each morning and each night.

"The hardest part for me was feeling like part of me was missing.
Because, it was."

My mom told me these words a couple of days after you were gone.
Kneeling on the floor in the hallway,
outside the bathroom door where you took your last breath,
sobbing uncontrollably
and wanting nothing more than you back, she -
having walked this walk before me -
walked over to me and said those words.

A couple of months later,
one night while talking with her on the phone,
she said them again.

No wonder I feel so lost.
No wonder I feel so empty.
No wonder I feel so "not like me" anymore.

"Yes, that's what it is,"
I say out loud to a living room of one.
"It's the whole "two are better than one" principle.
That's exactly what it is."

While the missing you is hard,
and while the trying to become one "me" again
after years of becoming one "us"
is pulling me apart,
I lift my hands to Heaven and thank God
for the better I had with you.

A beautiful better.

A better beyond what I could have ever hoped better to be.

A better I would choose to do with you over and over and over again,
if only I could.

If only I could.



(Today, August 7, our anniversary.)







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