The Last Decade: It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

“It was the best of times,
it was the worst of times,
it was the age of wisdom,
it was the age of foolishness,
it was the epoch of belief,
it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of Light,
it was the season of Darkness,
it was the spring of hope,
it was the winter of despair,”
― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

There is no other period in my life that has shaped me more as a human being than the past decade.

It has dealt me the most heart-breaking, deeply-wounding, and most devastating event that I have ever experienced.

But it is the same one that set me on the path of transformation and self-discovery.

Each new year of this past decade found me writing a chapter in the book that is my life.

I wrote new stories that I would never have imagined before the start of my painful journey in 2009.

Like Dickens’ novel, A Tale of Two Cities, each year the plot was riddled with the big Cs - contradictions, contrasts, challenges, and complexities.

But there were also stories of love, beauty, courage, endurance, and the triumph of the human spirit.

“There is prodigious strength in sorrow and despair.”

I wrote stories on strength and perseverance that I did not even know I had.

You see, time waits for no one and life marches on.

Life became a crash course on living and, ready or not, the lessons and tests came with unrelenting speed and frequency.

Since Tim died, I found myself having to stand on my own feet or tread water to keep my head afloat.

I had lost the hand that always held mine to guide me in the right direction.

I learned to trust my own instincts.

I made baby steps and giant steps on my own – from pumping my own gas or changing light bulbs to choosing to retire at 55 years old or renovating my home.

Sure, I made mistakes along the way that I prefer to have lived without.

But they turned out to be precious lessons in disguise.

“She was truest to them in the season of trial, as all the quietly loyal and good will always be.”

I wrote about my children – how they survived and thrived despite losing their Dad.

Throughout the years, D and B were my top priority.

Everything I did hinged on what was for their general good.

I made sure they finished school or found their passion in life.

We celebrated successes and held each other up in moments of weakness and heartache.

It was not easy but our loss only brought us closer.

I wrote about how proud I was that they have grown up to be beautiful and compassionate human beings.

“A multitude of people and yet a solitude.”

I wrote of the many people who came into my life after Tim died.

Many stayed while others just passed through.

For whatever reason, each one made a lasting impression and left a profound effect on my life.

These encounters, no matter how brief, gave the best lessons and even made me learn something more about myself.

In the midst of knowing these many souls, I learned to love my own company.

Spending time alone became something I stopped dreading and started looking forward to.

 “And a beautiful world we live in, when it is possible, and when many other such things are possible.”

I wrote about how life never gave up on bringing me joy and breathtaking moments.

Life took me by the hand and showed me the beauty that there was around me even in my season of darkness.

It helped me see beyond what I thought was my only reality.

Travel gave me new eyes with which to see the world.

It brought me to many countries that I only dreamed of visiting.

I saw spectacular and jaw-dropping places whose magnificence lifted my spirit.

It gave me many “first” experiences that left me wide-eyed with wonder and full of gratitude.

I attended a Consistory (the making of cardinals) and mass celebrated by the Pope in Rome.

I reflected on the price of freedom at the American cemetery in Normandy.

I dined at the Eiffel Tower and the world-renowned Osteria Francescana.

I tasted my first Hennessy cognac in Cognac.

I was serenaded on a gondola in Venice.

I watched my first live flamenco in Seville.

I was introduced to the beautifully plaintive Fado music in Lisbon.

I island-hopped the Gigantes Islands in the Philippines.

I wished for a new love from Juliet Capulet in Verona.

I soaked in the beauty of the five Terres.

I marveled at the Mona Lisa at the Louvre in Paris.

I rediscovered the joys of fishing 14 years after my last one with Tim.

I met and saw some well-known people up close and personal – Pope Francis, President Obama, Chef Massimo Bottura, Diana Gabaldon - one of my favorite authors, George Lopez, Dr. Wayne Dyer, James Van Praagh, and Panache Desai.

I do not write of these things to boast but to look back at all the blessings that God had bestowed upon me.

He let me know that He never forgot me, even as I lay buried deep in my sorrow.

It was His way of saying that I had so much more to live for.

These were graces He rained down upon me which I tentatively accepted at first.

Then I learned that He would never stop giving until I opened up and accepted them with my whole mind, heart, and being.

All these experiences shifted my reality and helped launch me toward a new life without Tim.

“Courage, dear miss! Courage!”

I wrote about the many fears that come with grief and loss and how life took me out of my comfort zone and made me trust again.

It taught me to take risks and not miss what could be one-time opportunities.

It taught me to live with no regrets.

I rode a solo chairlift up Mt. Solaro in Capri that rewarded me with the most stunning views.

I hiked up to the crater of Mt. Vesuvius and saw all its grandeur and sensed its smoldering power.

I climbed up to the top of Mont St. Michel, a feat I thought impossible with a bum knee.

I forgot my acrophobia while I traipsed along the spires of the Duomo in Milan.

I jumped in a lake and learned to kayak.

I rode an elephant.

I learned how to dance the salsa in Cozumel.

I did an impromptu dance with a pro.

I went on my “second-first” date and experienced my “second-first” kiss.

I learned to make jewelry that inspired me to pursue my creativity.

I grew a veritable food forest and reveled in the joy of harvesting the literal fruits of my labor.

I started a blog to write about my grief journey that I may honor Tim and help others who are experiencing their own loss.

“Nothing that we do, is done in vain. I believe, with all my soul, that we shall see triumph.”

Soren Kierkegaard said, “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.”

I wrote not only of the pain of losing the person that I loved more than my life.

I wrote about hope and how I had allowed myself to move forward.

I wrote chapters on how I lost, and survived, and laughed, and loved, and learned to really live again.

I end this decade with happiness and gratitude in my heart for all the growth, challenges, rewards, and precious memories that enable me to continue with the journey.

As I see the light of hope at the end of the tunnel, I am emerging as a new person that has been made older and wiser by years of experience.

I emerge stronger and braver as forged by the fires of pain and adversity.

And most of all, I emerge with more compassion and humility out of my brokenness.

For this new year and new decade, I give myself permission to plan and dream again, and to look forward to more adventures, and opportunities for growth.

As author Kristine Carlson would say, “to squeeze all the juicy juice of life” as I can.

It has truly been a privilege to be on this transformational journey.

To re-phrase Dickens: It was, indeed, the worst of times, and yet the best of times!

So to 2020 and the next decade, I say: I am ready for you!

“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest I go to than I have ever known.”

*Quotes are from A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens