When I finished my Palliative Care rotation last Friday, I took the liberty of browsing my preceptor's extensive library of palliative-related books. This little book caught my eye.
Tasting Rain. It's an easy read. Kim Malchuk writes the way she speaks, or at least the way I imagine she speaks. Although I do not agree with all of the ideas she presented, I could understand some of the emotions she described when her husband passed away. I am not a widow, nor have I ever been married, but I sure know the heartache and loss when a loved one leaves.
I am so thankful to be where I am now. Past the heartache and grief. I never imagined I would get here, that this would be possible. It's amazing. It was about 2 months ago when I found out that he was getting married. I was in the car with a common friend. She was giving me a ride home from residency night. When she told me (and she didn't know about our history), I felt like my lungs collapsed, as if the air in the car disappeared. Wow, that was fast, I thought to myself, doing the math -- 2 years. I didn't sleep well that night. I called my sister S and I cried. Why wasn't he ready to be married to me 2 years ago? He still isn't done his program. He has a few more years to go. What's different now?
A part of me was upset with myself that I was still so affected. I hadn't counted on that. I had thought that I was past that. After a few days of mulling over things, I realized that I was making it into something about myself, when it wasn't. It was about him and her finding each other and being ready to take that next step. It had nothing to do with me. When I made this realization, I felt so much better. But once in a while, it would still creep in.
Until one day, about 2 weeks after I found out, I was having dinner, by myself, and I remembered how it all ended, how he couldn't even find the time to speak with me, when everything was going into shambles. I remembered, and I had this sudden sense of a big thick book being slammed shut -- as if a chapter had been written and done with. And that's when I felt it -- this feeling of closure, of freedom, of air, of light. That's when it happened for me. Two years later.
When I think of it now, I think, 2 years. In those 2 years, he had found somebody else, had flown to HK (last year) to have prenup photos taken, had made another life for himself. How easy it was for him. Whereas I spent the 2 years just getting over him. What a lame-o. But wait, I shouldn't think of it that way. I spent the last 2 years making myself stronger, getting to know myself, loving myself, and forgiving myself. I wouldn't be here now, emotionally and mentally, without those 2 years behind me.
As I finished reading Kim's last few paragraphs, she talked about how the movie Forrest Gump had a special meaning to her, how she found a single white feather on the side of the road where her camper was parked, while she was pondering about the movie (having just seen it). And I thought, that's such a lovely ending. And then I looked up, and I saw a beautiful formation of birds flying in the same direction. I noted that they looked like little crosses from where I was sitting on the back porch. It was beautiful. God showed himself to me once again.
After the breakup, I was out one day and saw a robin in my backyard. It made me sad and reminded me of its namesake. But something inside me said, no, from now on, whenever I see a bird, I will think of God. And since then, a bird would always show up whenever I was thinking of God or whenever I was in the middle of a situation that I needed an answer to. He is so faithful. So so faithful to me.
