Watch, DVR, Tape record if necessary. I'll be there.
AND I can't wait to meet up with some fellow widdows, sharin' the love :)
CPT Michael J. Medders
I was so happy. For 3 whole days, I was so happy. I didn't worry about what jewlery I had on, or what I said, or how I said it, or who was comfortable, or who was uncomfortable. I just was, and I laughed a lot, and it was happiness. There were moments when my stomach would drop and I would remember that I couldn't call Mike and tell him about the beautiful people I was meeting and how they were helping me. I couldn't tell him the funny joke the man told on the way up in the airplane (Did you hear the one about the seal? So a seal walked into a bar... haha). I jumped out of an airplane- and I can't tell him, and I can't show him pictures. When we were up in the sky and all I could see were clouds my body was shaky but my heart was not. Push me to the edge- I've been there in every other way. Now I got to jump without any repurcussion. I kissed my hand and put it up to the window. This is the closest I'll be without anything around me- I love you baby.
Something quite unexpected has happened. It came this morning early. For
various reasons, not in themselves at all mysterious, my heart was lighter than
it had been for many weeks. For one thing, I suppose I am recovering physically
from a good deal of mere exhaustion. And I'd had a very tiring but very healthy
twelve hours the day before, and a sounder night's sleep; and after ten days of
low-hung grey skies and motionless warm dampness, the sun was shining and there
was a light breeze. And suddenly at the very moment when, so far, I mourned H.
least, I remembered her best. Indeed it was something (almost) better than
memory; an instantaneous, unanswerable impression. To say it was like a meeting
would be going too far. Yet there was that in it which tempts one to use those
words. It was as if the lifting of the sorrow removed a barrier.
Why has no one told me these things? How easily I might have misjudged another man in the same situation. I might have said, ‘He's got over it. He's forgotten his wife', when
the truth was, ‘He remembers her better because he has partly got over it.'
...Looking back, I see that only a very little time ago I was greatly concerned
about my memory of H. and how false it might become. For some reason - the
merciful good sense of God is the only one I can think of - I have stopped
bothering about that. And the remarkable thing is that since I stopped bothering
about it, she seems to meet me everywhere. Meet is far too strong a word. I
don't mean anything remotely like an apparition or a voice. I don't mean even
any strikingly emotional experience at any particular moment. Rather, a sort of
unobtrusive but massive sense that she is, just as much as ever, a fact to be
taken into account.
~C. S. Lewis