Witnesses

So, now what?

So much had changed, and I didn’t recognize the man in the mirror. We men are such foolish beings. We believe that we are our job titles, our marital status, the roles we play as husband and father.

I had left my profession and become an advisor. I had moved from devoted husband to riding the rollercoaster of cancer with my beloved as her caregiver. She was more worried about me than herself because her future was clear and mine was not. I leaned on my sons, and they were, and still are, there for me.

So who was this guy in the mirror?

After a while, I set about the study of this new life and how I might navigate it. A healthy mind in a healthy body, and let’s not forget the soul.

I took a course with a life coach focused on retirement, but the reality was that her methodology worked for anyone in transition. I had gone through a career change and had to catch up with the fact that I wasn’t the boss anymore. She was one of my first witnesses who helped me to see where I was and provided a mechanism to explore how to develop a fulfilling life without my beloved.

My youngest son had me going to the gym, and I began working with a trainer who helped me to see the damage done by years of neglect. She provided some basics that I could follow to begin to rehab the body that had gotten older when I was too busy to notice.

I found a yoga teacher, a cancer survivor who had just lost her father, who helped me to build a yoga practice. She helped me to realize that I could move back and forth on the mat, center my presence, and be transformed in the process.

I also found the courage to attend a yoga workshop, where again I found new reflections from the people I met there, people who, years later, I still call my friends.

The woman who had introduced me to my beloved had what she jokingly called “Fridays with Norma,” spending time with her and giving me a break from caregiving. She sent me a note about a bereavement group that was beginning at the local community center. There I met and befriended three women who loved their spouses as much as I loved mine, and we set off on a journey together, like in The Wizard of Oz, spending time at dinners, dance performances, and such. What had begun as tears of sorrow became laughter so hard that we had tears in our eyes. All because we were visible in each other’s eyes.

I have been gifted so many blessings. One of the women from the bereavement group, has said on a number of occasions, “We may have lost our person but we have gained our people.” And it is true.

I did try on more than one occasion to test the waters, but I have come to the conclusion that, with my memories and reflections, I am comfortable in my own company. I have found comfort in my many friends, who are my witnesses, and I am theirs.

And if the Cosmos, in its wisdom, conspires to contradict me, who am I to stand in its way? But in the meantime the guy in the mirror looks familiar.