Carry On

Lately I've been thinking a lot about the past. Clinging to it, running from it, moving on from it. I've been collecting thoughts and quotes about it that didn't quite fit together until now. So forgive me as I write in my roundabout way, while connecting all of the unnumbered dots. 

I'm a fan of the television show How I Met Your Mother, but I never truly realized why until recently. It's because of the character Ted. He is always full of hope, no matter what life brings him, or doesn't bring him. The whole show revolves around the idea of him telling his children how he met their mother. He of course gets distracted and tells stories chronicling his life, thereby dragging out the story and never quite meeting their mother... yet. There is always a reason why he told the story in the first place, and it is always something that occurred that if it hadn't happened, he wouldn't have met their mother in the first place. 

In a recent episode I watched Ted said, 

"Kids, you can't cling to the past. Because no matter how tightly you hold on, it's already gone." 

This is the essence of acceptance. Knowing that clinging to the past doesn't change a thing. It's done and over. No matter if you like it or not. The journey of acceptance is not an easy one, and is one that I will probably continue to write about for some time to come. I've noticed that it happens mostly in small bits, and sometimes in large chunks. It's never how you would expect. I do know that acceptance doesn't mean the pain is gone. It just means you have accepted the fate of the past. 

In a way, I envy this fictional character and his continual return to hopefulness. Hope, however, does not come hand in hand with acceptance. Hope is something that I'm not positive ever completely and truly returns. Hope, to me, is a lot like trust. Once lost, it is very hard to regain. Cynicism comes with the territory of loss, of course. When tragedy strikes, it's hard to see the silver lining. But, then again, how do we know what color the magical lining really is? Perhaps mine isn't silver, but purple. Likewise, if it's not the silver lining that everyone else's is, how do I know what to look for and when I've found it? 

I don't know the answers to any of these questions. All that I know, is that my life, still, seems like a whirlwind. I know that I have reached the stage of acceptance, but not one of regaining hope. It's difficult to do when, in a way, you feel that the universe conspired against you and your loved ones in a cruel, cruel way. 

I spent a lot of this year looking for someone or something to blame for Rob's death. I spun it every way possible, including blaming the doctors, and even myself. It's easy to place blame on someone else because you feel like no one is reacting urgently enough for your loved ones well being. And this very well could be so. I can say that there were some doctors that probably didn't care enough, or work fast enough. I can also say that they are human, and in all likelihood, there was nothing that they could have done to save him. It's even easier to blame yourself. I was the one responsible for his care. He was my husband and I had always taken care of him when he was sick, and he always got better. I was with him for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, just like I had vowed. I never wavered. What did I do wrong this time? The answer is nothing. I did nothing wrong. It's not my fault, but even as I write this I still feel in some way that it was. What if I didn't give him his medicine correctly, or clean a wound correctly, change his sheets enough, or feed him enough. Like it or not, these are things that go through my head from time to time, and it tears me up inside, even though I know that I had nothing to do with his death, I still wonder sometimes if there was anything that I could have done better. 


I wish you all a Merry Christmas with your loved ones. I beg of you to never take them for granted. Days are precious and time is fleeting. 

Though I've never been through hell like that

I've closed enough windows to know you can never look back

If you're lost and alone

Or you're sinking like a stone.

Carry on.

May your past be the sound

Of your feet upon the ground.

Carry on.