Deja Ew and also, Getting It, Finally

The anniversary of my sister’s loss marks a very dark period in my life. One of soul wrenching pain, confusion, uncertainty and sweeping loss. I was taken by surprise at how powerful my memories of all that are, of how closely to the surface all of that pain still sits. At this point last year, I still didn’t know half of what was to come; somehow the reliving of it knowing how the story ends is strangely powerful. In a way that has to be a little unpleasant to be a good and healing thing.

Things are sharp again- songs and places and names and feelings have edges that cut me. Not to the quick, not to the bone, a deep paper cut, maybe. Still. I hear some melody of memory, I relive some moment, I remember what I was doing this time last year, and the added knowledge of what I didn’t know as I did it haunts me. Sadly, it seems to have inspired some bitterness, and that sends me on a search for wisdom.

It was fairly easy to find, with a little help from a friend.

This year, now, here in the present, I am waiting. Which is something I have never done well. My uncertainly tolerance could fit in a thimble. With room to spare for my patience.

The waiting is still the hardest part. It always will be, but maybe there is a different way to wait.

Last year, I felt for months what I felt yesterday- confusion, anxiety, anticipation, fear.  When that veil finally lifted, the revelation was earth-shattering. Painful. Ugly. Devastating.

What I’m waiting on, is with all likelihood, positive and certainly less dramatic. Even if it turns out to be unpleasant, it will not be so earth-shattering, and if it is unpleasant, at the very least I will have preserved most of what I have. The casualties will likely be some pride, some hope, some happiness. Which will not be fun, but is certainly easier than knocking the whole house off of the foundation and rebuilding.

My decision making process on the larger issues of life is largely intuitive. That isn’t to say that there isn’t logical thought applied; I have a nasty habit of thinking twenty steps ahead. By the time I’m faced with a decision, I have already painstakingly considered the situation from all angles, and I trust my intuition to place my bets. On the smaller issues of life, I am often incapable of making a decision. Ask me if I’m willing to consider a huge risk, and you’ll have your answer in a shorter period of time than it takes me to pick something off of a menu. Because I anticipate the huge decisions, maybe when I ought to be thinking about what I’d like for dinner.

Not everyone works this way.

It is unfair, I think, to associate the length of the decision making process with the level of intent or conviction with which the decision is made. My decisions certainly lack neither intent nor conviction.

If my decision is made with intent and conviction, I certainly want the same in return.

I’m not waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m not waiting for pretty words to wilt into broken promises. I’m waiting to avoid exactly those things. However long it takes, whatever the outcome is, a decision made with intent and conviction is worth waiting for.

I deserve nothing less.

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