Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing. We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.
I thought about starting this blog for several weeks before I actually did it. I thought of every reason not to. I worried: Do I really want this terrible loss to define me? Shouldn’t I focus on moving forward with my life instead of wallowing in these memories, this longing? Does the world really need another WidowPress blog? Am I just trying to keep Matt alive by adopting one of his passions?
Then, two things happened. First, I couldn’t shake the urge to write. I slept on it many nights and pushed it aside for many days. It stayed with me.
Second, I picked up a copy of When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times by much-loved Buddhist nun Pema Chödrön. I read the above passage. I decided the only thing to do right now is to be where I am, feel how I feel, do what I feel like doing. If I feel like writing today, that’s what I’ll do. If I want to share Matt with the world (or, at least, this corner of the Internet), I will. If I hate writing tomorrow, I’ll stop.