My sons found a stash of pictures of their mom and set them up around the house last week. We have a ton of pictures, many in frames, and they tend to rotate in and out of our living spaces. It’s always a bit of a mystery, but our rhythms dictate how often we want to be reminded of Mary’s absence.
They brought out a lot this time. It’s been tough to turn corners and be surprised by those memories. Not crippling or especially sad, but unnerving.
I wonder why I’m not crippled. Widowhood and single parenting seems enough to crush a human spirit. Top that with a pandemic that looks a lot like your late wife’s dis-ease and, well, I don’t know why I’m still standing. Insanely, I’m thriving. I’m taking on new challenges, making new friends, and loving the time I get to spend with my girlfriend. Just typing that out doesn’t make any sense.
I got another clue tonight as I thought a out the educational blessing that my grandparents have been. They lived outside of London during the Blitzkrieg and have related those stories to my sons. They were children at the time and my sons are fascinated by the downed German bombers and evacuation of children to the coal mining country.
A novel cold virus can’t stop people who have lived through watching the end of their street leveled by bombs. They’ve been living as full a life as they can manage and seeing their great-grandsons whenever they can.
I didn’t have to learn a zest for life through hardship, I was raised by parents and grandparents who had done the hard work and modeled positive, meaningful behavior.
When hardship came, I didn’t have a Shut Down button. I had a British Carry On petrol pedal fueled with a whole lot of American muscle.
I learned something about myself today. I’m a little less of a mystery. I’m blessed by the hard work of generations before me and doubly blessed that my sons are witnessing the unstoppable nature of their genetic code.
God bless, I appreciate you, and thank you for reading,
Jason