Beyond the Horizon...

 on Wednesday, I was searching for something on the old Retreat blog

[it's still there, but only I can see it]

and I came across a photo that I had posted several years ago.

It made me stop in my tracks and cry.

Now, to be honest, there are MANY photos on that old blog that make me cry

when I come across them in my searches for other images. Happens all the time.

But this particular photo just pierced my heart and sent my mind spinning.

I was crying so hard I couldn't even see the screen anymore. 

And I was done for the day...

So, I shut off my computer,

put aside the projects I was working on (two writing projects and my pumpkins)

and took myself to the beach.

I sat in the shade of a palm tree and read, wrote in my journal,

closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the breaking waves,

watched sailboats drift in the wind,

carried on a conversation with my best friend who lives in Heaven now

and relaxed.... for five hours.

I also climbed to the top of the cliff and took photos of the scenery and the glorious sunset...

 as a matter of fact, i took so many photos of the sunset that i created a panoramic time-lapse image:

 ...and just about the time that the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, 

my brain lit up with an epiphany that literally made me gasp out loud.
It was a Moment of Grace that broke my heart all over again.

deep breath... this is personal. this is hard.

Because of the way that my marriage ended, 

and the situations that happened AFTER 'the worst day' and the day we split up,
I had many conflicting emotions to work through.

I was also on precarious and shaky ground with my kids. 

And when the utterly unthinkable happened, and Bob passed away suddenly last November,

my reactions were something I kept to myself.
My kids asked me not to post about or talk about his passing publicly at the time, 

and I honored their request.
I don't think I could have made sense of the complex emotional state I was in

to have written about it, anyway.

But the thing is, I didn't grieve then.

I was sad, I was broken, I was horrified.... but I didn't - couldn't - really grieve.
I was still in a state of brokenness from the loss of the relationship and a future together.
I had locked down my emotions a year before because I was so hurt.
I also felt like I wasn't 'allowed' to grieve.

The shock of his passing in such a horrific way was more than I could bear,

and I ONCE AGAIN shut down my feelings to protect my mind and heart from more pain.

I've been asked SO many times 

how a separated wife who didn't want to be a wife anymore deals with a situation like that one.
I don't know. I didn't do it wrong or right... I just moved through it like a zombie.

Trying to be there for our kids in any possible way I could, supporting their choices,

and working through my own emotions toward healing, forgiveness, and release.

Well, God's been doing a lot of work on me. A LOT.

The trip to Seattle in June had a huge impact on me.
And then came the sudden loss of my best friend...

Since then, my emotions have been out of control. Up and Down, all over the place. Daily.
And once again, I have tried to be strong 

for the people who are affected even more deeply than I have been... 

her husband and children and friends.
In the process of doing that, I went back to my OLD 'default' reaction

of stuffing my emotions in to a dark corner and ignoring them.

Sitting there on that beach, talking to her, I finally let them all out in words and tears.
And as the sun was going down, and I was clicking the shutter on my camera,

she let me in on a little secret:

When I cry, I am not just grieving the loss of my best friend of 37 years.
I am also finally grieving the loss of the man whom I loved for 32 years.
Grieving all of the lost dreams, hopes, memories,

and the incredible journey of life that we traveled together - but couldn't finish.
Grieving that love wasn't enough. Grieving that the broken couldn't be fixed.

Grieving that there will never be a chance for us to even just be proud parents & grandparents,
that he should have had many more years as a dad and grandpa to enjoy
and that our kids & grandkids should have had more time with him.
And since 'our place' was the beach, and what would have been our 33rd anniversary was last week,

my emotions were finally unlocked and my heart just couldn't hold the pain in anymore.

That pain had threatened to overtake me as I sat at Lori's beautiful memorial service just weeks ago,
as I listened to the words from Garth Brooks' song 'The Dance'
and cried because if I had known ahead of time how 'our story' was to have ended -
mine and Lori's, and mine and Bob's - it would have ruined every moment we did have together.
And as all of this dawned on me as the sun set,

my friend reminded me that it's about time I let myself feel that loss.

Let it flow, and then let it go, like the sun sinking below the horizon...

I said long ago on this blog that God was taking me back to all of the deepest fears and hurts in my heart,

so that He could heal me completely. And He continues to do that.

My best friend has seen me through most of the worst days of my life since I was 15 years old.

And she's still doing it... she's still here, with me. In my heart and my head and my memories.

I love you, LoriAnn. Thank You...

That's the picture that sent me to the beach....