My Eyes Still Leak

October 26, 2023

I am beginning to discover my own personal rhythm … my own personal groove.

At first glance, my life is seemingly without routine. A closer studied view reveals that, in my own personal groove, there is some routine that I have adopted and get along quite well with. And I simply do not get into a hurry anymore. I’m not running on that hamster wheel anymore. I did all that running. I don’t run anymore. Time schedules only very marginally have any place in this groove that seems to suit me to a “T”.

Everything changes. I constantly remind myself of that. We cling to the past. We hold it precious. In some respects, we are dutifully bound to keep the past alive … to keep it present … to keep living out the ramifications of all our past experiences. Our past experiences are the investments that have molded us into the image of ourselves that we are today. Everything changes continually. Yet, though we cling to the past to keep it present with us, and though the future is at best unclear, the great imperative is to keep moving forward into this future that is unfolding. No one truly knows what sunrise will bring on any given day.

I’m digging deep inside of myself these days. A lot of what I’m doing, a lot of what I’m writing in this journal, is simply the fruit born of my own self-psychoanalysis in an attempt to better grapple with the realities that now surround me. Studying myself. Now that’s an interesting course of study. At the same time, the faith-factor motivates me to deeper levels of trust in the Unseen Hand that has been guiding and directing my life all these years of trying to know and understand the Divine Reality. So, in the mix of these two, I am very definitely on a faith-journey. Sometimes I think I know the direction the journey is taking. But I am a long way from being able to say “I know that I know that I know without a doubt.”

I miss Shirli every day and every night. How can I possibly not? And right now, after that long ramble to South Carolina to visit John and family, the missing is painfully acute. After near sixteen months of wrestling with this reality … sixteen months that at once seem both an instant and a lifetime … my eyes still leak and there is still a heaviness in my soul that is seemingly inescapable.

More than one person has told me, “Well, you’ve just got to get over it and move on.” I think that is the most ignorant thing anyone could ever say to a grieving person. You don’t get over it. You don’t move on. You learn to accept it and work through it so you can function and get along at some point on the backside of it.

It’s four in the morning. Sleep eluded me at two. I’m meeting a dear friend for lunch today. I had hoped to be well-rested.