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| Honolulu. August 2002. |
During those times, it helps me to give it some real thought as I write it all out. Putting pen to paper in a stream of consciousness makes the future emotional hoops a little bit easier to scale, while helping making peace with the ghosts that haunt me from my past. Ghosts not only of Roman's actions, which I have struggled to make sense of, but also actions of my own.
Forgiveness is not just about letting go of the grief that Roman left me with, but also embracing the Universe's plan, while also letting go of the guilt I have clutched over my personal regrets. It's complicated to say the least. At times I am angry.
The times when I feel damaged - reduced to tears because I feel like the world is about to crumble beneath my feet. On the rare occasions that I argue with my boyfriend, Chris, and break down into anxious hand flapping sobs because I fear he will leave without warning. Those nights when I dream about being abandoned or when I can't sleep because my wheels are spinning. Or on mornings when I wake up in tears because I no longer recognize myself; even all this time later. Those times when I grow impatient waiting for my new normal to finally arrive or when I hear stories that hit unexpectedly close to home. When I see a man who reminds me of Roman and I feel too uncomfortable to so much as glance in his direction. Those are the times that I have to remind myself of the process of forgiveness.
"It happened. Deal with it" I say to myself.
How?
Well...that part is not as easy, but thinking of it in symbolic terms helps me process it easier.
It feels like Roman left me holding a figurative bag of fertilizer. Fertilizer can be used by angry people to make bombs. Sure, I could be nasty and entitled and take my anger out on the living by blowing up on them on my bad days. But I don't. I could also stand idly without moving forward, holding the stinky bag of crap, and whine about how bad it smells. Okay, I have had my moments..I admit. I do complain sometimes, but I try not to indulge too often. Instead consciously, what I try to do, is use my grief to foster new growth. That is what this blog is intended to do. And embracing the opportunity to use my grief for cultivating something worthwhile is ultimately what drives my ability and willingness to forgive, even when it's difficult. It is what I use to remind myself that things happen for reasons I cannot comprehend, but can accept nonetheless.
His willful actions hurt me, but his was his unwillful ones that broke part of me.
But I know that Roman didn't mean to die. Obviously.
He didn't know that his thoughtless indiscretions would be his last. Roman had many good qualities, but at times being married to him was tough. And truth be told, if he hadn't died, I would almost have been relieved that he cheated on me because it was my "out" of the marriage. I had often thought about leaving him, but I didn't because of my vows. Words I spoke that day on the beach, which later felt like an albatross at times. There were moments when I wondered what I was thinking by marrying him. It's those moments, along with my doubt when we stood before the justice of the peace, that came to haunt me with guilt after he died.
At the time of my wedding, I found myself fighting doubt more than embracing my new life. I hate to admit it, but honestly I wondered if I was making a huge mistake. Not a good sign. Certainly not thoughts a bride should be having, if years of wedded bliss are in her future.
