Atlas

When Carson was in high school, he worked hard to earn a scholarship to play baseball in college. The spring of his junior year he received a verbal offer from a college for a scholarship. Although excited, we knew a verbal offer was not binding so he continued to work hard.

When he touched base with the coach early in the summer between his junior and senior year, the coach rescinded his offer. He indicated he had pressing positional needs and had to go in a different direction.

Carson was devastated. He went from playing Division 1 baseball to no offers at any level. To make matters worse, he dislocated his elbow playing in the spring and his recruiting season was lost. Carson sulked in his room for several days and moped through life after this setback. After about a week, I passed by his door and saw him once again lying in bed in a morose mood.

I paused in the doorway searching for the right words. I’ve never considered myself to have great parental wisdom or insight (that was Amy’s forte), but in this case, Carson shared with me years later he never forgot what I told him.

“Son,” I said, “sometimes life isn’t fair. I know you deserved that offer, but it’s gone. There is nothing you can do about it. I know it has been a blow to your goals. For the past week, I’ve given you space and let you deal with your feelings. But it is time to pick yourself up, leave your room, and get back to work.”

He claims I added “before I kick you in the ass.” but I don’t recall using that phrase. Although, I admit, it does sound familiar.

Two weeks ago, I wrote a Reflection entitled, Patterns, about my grief and my thoughts on continuing to wear my wedding ring. The blog post seemed to strike a chord with everyone. It quickly became the most read Reflection posted to this blog beating out the previous leader, Macc.

Readers commented, texted, and emailed me their experiences with their loved ones. Whether it was a parent or a spouse, they shared the many different approaches and feelings associated with this deeply personal decision.

The response took me by surprise as I had very mixed feelings about whether to even publish something so personal with so many differing viewpoints. I did not want anyone to think I was judging them or their decisions.

My Joy Journey with Amy has made my life an open book. It has laid bare my vast love for Amy and exposed the deep pain of our family’s loss.

I’ve talked quite a bit about the benefits of my hiking but have not directly addressed the therapeutic benefits of writing My Joy Journey with Amy. Whenever I find myself alone with my thoughts, I pull out my laptop and start working on the blog or writing the next Reflection. This is especially helpful when the weather keeps me off the trails. It gives me focus and distracts from my feelings of loss.

Last night, someone asked me how many Reflections I have in queue at any given time. Generally, I have three or four Reflections lined up and ready to be published at any given moment. Most of the time that means, what you read in the blog is how I was feeling or thinking six weeks ago.

It also gives me a four-to-six-week grace period to generate the next story if I get busy or have writer’s block. So far, I haven’t had an issue generating additional stories as new ideas pop into my head from a memory with Amy or I have something I want to share about my grief journey.

Lately I have been feeling a lot like Carson did those many years ago. That I am not moving forward. I feel like I need a kick in the derriere to at least envision what I want my life after Amy to look like.

I am still bound to my grief daily and am just trying to get through each day and each week as best I can. Planning for the future is still tied to that fundamental goal.

A couple of weeks ago a friend from pickleball asked me if I was dating yet (they had a single friend). The question caught me off guard. It is the first time I have been asked that question. I really did not know how to respond, so I decided honesty was the best answer.

“I am always open to new friendships” I said. “But I am not ready for a romantic relationship.”

The episode got me thinking of the larger picture. At some point I need to start thinking about how I want to live the rest of my life. The one I envisioned with Amy is no longer possible.

What do I want this new life to look like? What do I want to accomplish? Even, where do I want to live it?

I wish I had an atlas for my life to show me the path forward. It has been 18 months since Amy passed away. Like my advice to Carson, I am beginning to feel the need to shift my mindset.

But I also consider it progress that I have at least finally asked myself these questions. Even if I have no idea how to answer them.