So I'm starting to learn and understand experientially that there is life after.
Life after 40, which is where this blog's title has its roots.
Life after a very difficult ending, one I still grieve daily.
The winds of life bring not only "change," but with it new opportunities and new experiences. Often when you aren't even looking or trying, or sometimes when you only take the smallest of steps.
Like, two weeks ago I stepped into the REI outdoor outfitters store, finally after a month or two of intention, to look for a backpack so I can feel more readily outfitted for hiking.
I ended up hitting it off with the store employee who helped show me packs, and a week and a half later found myself going out on a date! The first date I've been on in five years; and probably only the second date or thereabouts in about ten years! Whether it will turn into anything remains to be seen. Even if I get a friend out of it, I will consider it a success. Heck, even if I never hear from the guy again I will consider it a success, because it was all borne out of my taking a step forward in my life - to buy a pack with the intention of taking more steps (literally and metaphorically) to go hiking - and because it all happened when I was just being myself, at ease with and present in my reality.
In other changes that demonstrate "life after," two weeks ago a new Sheltie suddenly came to share his forever home with me. His coming was a redemption, of sorts, of loss that I experienced last year with the sudden death of my beloved Tri-color Sheltie, Naomi, whose death punctuated a year of difficult losses. Now suddenly I have this very sweet, mellow Sheltie boy gracing my home and my life. Such an unexpected and happy blessing.
As more example of life after - life moving forward in positive ways - I had made a friend in photography (through a random sailing connection that also came about because of my taking a couple of steps forward) who was an unexpected connection and who has become something of a dear friend. She came into my life on the crest of the wave of huge losses, and her grace and care were something of a life preserver for me during the difficult months of the darkest of winters in my life. Now as the stormy seas have begun to settle around me, I find this unexpected connection with this friend has held fast and grown stronger, such that she was even calling me weekly during the entire last month while she was away in England.
And still more, through even tonight as I stepped out once again, to go on a sailing "meetup" to an entirely new location, entirely new group of people, entirely new and unknown kind of sailing than I've done before. I was terrified somewhere inside myself, but yet all the confidence I've been nurturing for so long was like a giant internal insulator against the fear, so I got myself out of the house (with some difficulty), drove to the location, made small talk with a man who turned out to have been the instructor of the sailing classes I took a year ago and who had terrified me so much that I intentionally never signed up to sail with him... Continued to introduce myself with confidence to the other attendees who all seemed super confident and knowledgeable about sailing... while I fumbled around and tried to be helpful or at least not to do anything stupid. Ended up sailing with "Mike" the "scary instructor," who turned out to be really nice and willing to gently teach, and with another gal who was really friendly and easy to be with. After, we went out for drinks and appetizers at a friendly nearby neighborhood pub, where famous local celebrity Cisco Morris happened to be hanging out for the evening with a group of friends. Talk about feeling like I was in the best place to be in friendly Seattle subburbia. We chatted and I made connections with both women for potential future hiking and kayaking together and also for a friendly escort into the scary world of the Seattle Singles Yacht Club that I've been far too shy and scared to attend so far.
Life after.
It's bittersweet. There's still a ton of grief. The losses have been tragic, and there's still a lot of anger because they shouldn't have happened. But the sun keeps rising and setting. The seasons keep changing, such that (finally!) Summer is here in the Northwest. And just like the region and everyone else in it is slowly metamorphosing back into living as the sun shines and the weather grows warmer, I find myself taking tentative steps back into the world of the living, too.
