I’m home alone. But, I’m not a kid. Nor contending with comedic burglars. Home in a new home – alone. 41 years ago I lived alone in an apartment in Fayetteville, NC, but I was dating – engaged on and off a couple of times – to this girl. I wasn’t really alone. We shared every season that followed until this Spring.
Today I drove home the last leg from everything that had to be done after my wife’s burial on Feb 21st at Arlington National Cemetery. It was 7 hours from my classmate Ward Bursley’s home, brotherhood and hospitality. Every mile heading home was a mile I last drove with my wife. The empty seat beside me wasn’t silent. It spoke to me about how “it” all is now. “It” is life. I didn’t start crying until the last 40 minutes. Then, the tears rolled.
Twice during the trip this song played when I searched for music.
We would have sung the chorus together. Like the other old Country Gospel songs we knew from our childhoods. Those times together are over. Grateful for the memories. Grieve for her loss. And, facing this new future head into the wind.
The moment I got to my new home, here is what I faced.
I know. Wow. What beauty. What peace.
Indeed, in this place of beauty and peace – until my daughter and 3 grandbabies move in for months – I will do what I must do from rising to resting. Day by day.
I’m not really home alone as much as home without my wife. The Comforter is with me.
I will do all my duties in the hierarchy and web of relationships that’s my life. I’ll be me for them. I’ll read and write. Perhaps, Good Lord Willing, if our former home sells soon and I come to terms with a builder in short order, then that writing will be done from a new upstairs study. I reckon 6 or 7 months if all goes well.
I’m ready for whatever the Lord wills.