Morning

Day 91. Morning.

It's a new day, with new challenges and new successes. Ever notice if we think that bad things that will happen, they usually do? That's why I try and wake up to new beginnings instead of new problems. Nothing can tear us down quicker than believing we are pre-determined to failure. It's much easier to get up each day knowing we have yet another chance to live our dreams than to worry how soon they'll be shattered. Smoother sailing when we start out on the yacht than the rowboat.

I prefer sunrises over sunsets. I think I prefer beginnings to endings. The crimson streaks from the east, the golden orb rising yet again, with all the promise of a fresh start. No buildup of bad events to account for, no looking back over the day and wondering what we could have changed. Words yet unspoken, our day begins anew with a fresh chance to express our love, our dreams. Without the twin clouds of failure and disappointment, we can look out at the sea and imagine perfection. With the exception of those who can't let go of yesterday. Oh, how hard I try not to be one of those people.

I've been going back and reading a little journal of thoughts I wrote down after Dave's accident. I seem to have taken about a month or so to get my thoughts in order, and stop sounding like it was the end of my world. I haven't shared any of this with anyone, just something I had in the computer and added to, randomly. Thoughts I still don't feel comfortable sharing, but I wanted you to know I didn't just sit back and not try and learn from what I was feeling. Which was apparently not one of the normal stages of grief, abandonment.

I think he took care to spare me of that part. The last year of his life, we fought like fire and water many times. About anything and everything. Nothing I did was right or good enough (like I hadn't heard THAT before.) I realized about a month after the accident that it was his plan. Make me stop loving him so much that I wouldn't be as hurt when it happened.

I've always believed that people know when their time is short. I think he did, and he tried to spare me. Thinking if I didn't love him quite as much, it wouldn't hurt so bad. That one day, I'd wake up and realize I had to get on with my life, which was by no means over. A new day, aboard a ship of which I was the captain and crew.

It was morning, and the new sun sparkled gold across the ripples of a gentle sea. Richard Bach: Jonathan Livingston Seagull. 

Lesson Ninety One: Morning's coming. BE ALL IN.

649 to go...