Today a friend reached out and told me that her husband of 46 years had died a couple of months ago. I didn’t know how I’d missed it on Facebook, but I did. She told me some of the things she was doing to ease the pain and as I looked through her Facebook feed I was amazed at the joy I got from watching the videos and reading the posts commemorating her husband’s life—well lived. His life touched many others. Whether we know it or not, that’s our purpose.
Last weekend I went away to camp to scrapbook to my heart’s content. A group of women get together twice a year to go 35 minutes away on Lake Norman and spend time exactly the way they want to—scrapbooking their memories, reading, rocking in the comfy rocking chairs on the porch overlooking the lake, fellowshipping.
As I looked through my friend’s memories, I thought about how difficult it was for me the first time I tried to attend one of those scrapbooking weekends. I paid for the whole weekend but could only stay one day—the pain was too raw—I had to leave. The second time I stayed two days and felt a little better but got barely anything done—I spent most of my time reading. This past weekend I was able to stay three days and I completed an entire scrapbook (59 pages) depicting the next to last trip that Ted and I took to London, Paris and South Africa.
As I worked on the pictures, touched the memorabilia, remembered how we’d gone barreling through the South African savanna in our open Land Cruiser piloted by our safari guide playing the South African national anthem at the top of my Ipad’s lungs—I remembered saying “I’m so happy”. And I was!
Happiness is measured in moments strung together. Some of us get more moments strung together than others, but that we get any, is a true blessing.
To those of you who have loved and lost, I feel your pain. Hold those memories close. They will get you through the difficult times.