As the second anniversary of Beth's death approaches, I find myself taking stock. The grief is still with me all the time, everyday. The quick jab of loss still stings at odd moments of remembrance. The constant dark companion of cancer appears at every turn, Komen commercials, TV sitcoms, drama, daily situations. That bastard cancer and all the attendant memories of the last days rush forward in an instant. The mantle of sadness still dampens my basic good nature.
But it is dulled I suppose by the passage of time. It is said time heals all wounds, I'm not sure of that. Perhaps rather than heal anything, time slides a soft-focus lens before our memories. The pain, despair, the depression remains but it is somehow muffled or blurred by the passage of time.
It could be that like a lump of coal the weight of Beth's death has crushed me to a hard crystalline center that can no longer be reduced. It's possible that Nietzsche was right and this hasn't killed me. So maybe I'm stronger. I don't think so though. I am diminished by the loss of Beth. I'm not stronger, much the opposite. The power her passing had to destroy me just was not quite up to the job. The strength I had before was greater than death's destructive resources could conquer. The battle hasn't left me stronger, on the contrary I am smaller, weaker.
It could be that though reduced, I'm a better person for the experience, hard as that is to say. Maybe I feel the pain of others a little more sharply, my level of compassion is increased. Paradoxically I find it easier to resist the tugs of other's heartbreaks. The crushing defeat of Beth's death, it was my defeat as I could not cure her or save her, has left a hard shell. That shell is like unto linked mail though, the blunt axe and slashing sword is turned away, but the thin, sharp point of the rapier can slide through the holes to pierce deeply.
So, two years from the first end of my life, where have I landed? In a world where the colors aren't as bright, the laughter less sincere, the light more muted. I am better though, better. Perhaps when I get to the twenty year mark I'll have recovered all that I was, but it is doubtful. Still, I learn how to endure this diminished world a little more effectively each day.
“One morning I woke up and I knew that you'll be gone....
A new day, a new way, I knew I should see it along...
Go your way, I'll go mine and carry on...
The sky is clearing and the night has gone out...
The sun, he come, the world is all full of light...
Rejoice, rejoice, we have no choice but to carry on...”
“Carry On” --Neil Young
