Finally, I had the courage to go back to Paris without my husband. The last time prior was three years ago before he got sick. The hotel that I stayed at with my son had many writings on the walls, ceilings, floors.
This was what was written on the wall of our room. It greeted me every day.
Nous faisons chambre à part
nous allons dîner chacun de notre côté,
nous prénoms nos vacances séparément; nous faisons tout ce que nous pouvons pour sauvegarder notre mariage.
We have separate rooms;
we will dine each on our side,
we name our vacations separately; we do all we can to safeguard our marriage.
I often stared at it. Often in amazement. I reflected on
where my husband or his essence is now;
what our reality is all about;
how do words travel across time and space;
Powerful. Amazing. So grateful.
Messages from my dear husband feel oh so close to home, in my heart.
Grieving is multi faceted. Sometimes it feels like bricks hitting us. The pains it causes are palpable. Sometimes it feels like an ethereal distant music; we try to make sense of the new reality we float in. Other times, it writes in gold letters that there is something bigger, even if hard to decipher, and that we are indeed being held fully supported by love.
Here’s to the magical formations of words and messages from the ether. Here’s to the rewards of paying attention to what shows up in the moment.
Life is like a dream. La vie est comme un rêve.
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