A Joyous Perspective on Hopes and Dreams: When they don't take the path we expected.

It's Friday, and time for another Friday Night Thought Tale Hour with the Henderson's. It's Memorial Weekend here in the U.S., a holiday that denotes many different definitions. For me, and those like me, it's one of the purest definitions of "Reality Bites" that there can possibly be. It was May 27, 2007, when I went down to Fort Benning to observe my son's graduation from Basic Training. So much pomp and circumstance. So much pride - I thought my heart would burst. So much promise and hope. So many dreams. But then, just 11 months later, he was dead. Confusion and grief replaced all of those hopes and dreams. They would never exist outside of my head. 

But oh, how we love to just go there and imagine the what if's...

When your apparent promise of goodness and joy grows dim in the shadow of grief, you find yourself going to that place of the dreams you once held so dear. But through the space of time, you realize that these thoughts don't really soothe the pain of grief, they actually only serve to make you more a prisoner of it. I was reminded of this quote from the book "Staring at the Sun":

“Right, that's exactly what I mean by your being both the prisoner and the jailer.” 

~Irving D. Yalom

Remaining trapped in the world of what if's does little to help set you free from the burden of sadness. I experienced this during the past few months more than I have in several years since Seth's death. I believe it's due mostly to the significant events that have passed or are upon me as I live my life without his presence. And I miss him.  I wonder and imagine -

How proud he would be of his sister and the mother she has become, twice now.

How happy he would be for his brother and his marriage.

What joy he would get from watching another brother climb the ladder of success, finding his passion.

And, as his son turns 13, what an amazing father he would have been to a teenage boy.

But none of these are to ever be.

If I choose to keep locked within the cage of grief, I will add an

unnecessary shadow to the joyous realities above. I will miss what is real as I muse in what is unreal. I will potentially fail to be a part of these things, putting my head down instead as I am given the right to be absolutely sad. As I did know my son, very well, I can guess that this is far from what he wished, he would instead want me to remind everyone how happy he was to have served and trained with a force that believed in protecting these very freedoms.

Yes, grief means giving up some very significant hopes and dreams...

This is true no matter if your grief is rooted in the loss of life or perhaps the loss of another type, you will find you have to put aside some hopes and dreams. But in that action, you will also find another opportunity, and one even harder to grasp than those fanciful thoughts: The chance to embrace a new reality and make it even more beautiful than anything you could ever imagine.

Some call it making lemonade out of a lemon, as though we should have only gotten Kool-Aide.

Would I have rather not had to deal with the sting of death? Oh absolutely. But the path of life is not always one that we can chart for ourselves. For that reason, we have to find a willingness and a strength to adjust our vision, and stare right at the Sun, seeing another version of our hopes and dreams. Live in the light of reality, and encourage others to live in that same way. 

Because tomorrow is not a promise. 

It is only a hope, filled with dreams.

So tonight, Chris and I will be toasting to the beautiful memories we carry of Seth, and the others like him who chose to serve our country with their lives. We will be drinking a Belgium Beer out of German Beer Stines. We imagine that's what he might have liked, and in reality, it will make us smile. Cheers.