51. Someone Else's Story

"It’s not being pessimistic to be realistic. There are no magic words. There are no quick fixes. To acknowledge that this loss is horrendous and unfathomable and cannot ever truly be overcome are among the kindest things you can say."
~Anonymous

When I was a kid, I was a self-admitted drama queen, though not in the traditional sense.  Every emotion I expressed was big, exaggerated, and overly effusive.  I attribute some of it to my personality and the rest to my involvement in musical theater - leading any kind of a life onstage has this weird way of instilling in you a penchant for moroseness and ridiculous sweeping gestures.  It's something I've rebelled against as I've gotten older and gone down routes I would never have anticipated (like joining the Army), but internally, the dramatic foundations are still there.  In some ways, it's helped me to do well in various offstage activities, like Speech and Debate in high school (yes, I was a huge nerd) and Mock Trial competitions in college (again, that nerd thing hasn't changed much over the years).  And that's all the courtroom really is - one big show, so hopefully this means I'll make a decent attorney when I graduate from law school and venture out into the world of legal practice.


I often wish I hadn't had to find out how it really feels to experience a travesty that turns your world upside down.  I would have been much happier to continue to imagine how I think it might play out, as I did when I was rehearsing scenes for musical theater productions.  I want to slap my former self sometimes when I think about how much "fun" I used to think it was to play the role of a deep, dark, tragic character - those were always the more complicated parts, the ones you could really sink your teeth into.  But it makes me wonder now if I asked for this, if I somehow caused or contributed to Jon and I's fate with my silly childish ideations.  Would I even like the person I was back then?  Knowing what I know now, would I still carry on as though the whole world's a stage?  I think I'd find myself kind of annoying, very naive, and lacking in perspective.  I knew what mattered in life - I loved Jon like nothing else in the world, and I was incredibly grateful for the little family we were building together.  But I didn't take the time to consider how my happiness made those who were not so lucky feel, and I didn't stop for that extra second to discern that someone was, in fact, not okay when I asked how they were and they responded automatically with "oh, I'm fine."  Again, I was very much lacking in perspective and life experience in general. 

On the days when I'm feeling sorry for myself, I get mad and think it's awfully cruel for God to have blessed me with the knowledge I now have in the way I've had to obtain it.  Why couldn't I learn those life lessons without losing my husband in the process?  Isn't there some easier way to gain wisdom as you grow older?  Aren't there some experiences that no one should have to be subjected to?  The natural cycle of life, by definition, involves death.  We all know that at some point, we'll have to go through the awful pain of losing the people we love - grandparents, parents, mentors, friends.  The same is not true, however, of losing a spouse or a child.  We don't expect to have to go through those things.  I sometimes wonder if I made so many mistakes in the past that this is what I get for being so happy with Jon, even if just for a little while.  It makes me question if I can ever hope to achieve that kind of happiness again at some point in the future.  Before Jon, I really only dated one other guy, and it was back in high school before I knew anything about the ways of the world.  Since I lost Jon, every relationship I've tiptoed (or flung myself headfirst) into has ended badly, either because it was with the wrong guy or because I just couldn't stop comparing him to Jon...and feeling tremendous disappointment when he didn't measure up.  I realize that I could be making things harder for myself in the long run by thinking this way, but I've also been told multiple times not to settle, so where does that leave me?  Like Cassie said last week on The Widow's Voice, one big conundrum...


As a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed young teenager, one of my favorite theater-related activities was to sing for guests when my parents hosted a dinner party or invited friends over for drinks. One of the songs I'd sing (which I realize, in retrospect, was far too old for me at the time) was called "Someone Else's Story." It's basically a song about a woman trying to deny her unwanted reality, which seems ever-so-appropriate now that I'm living out that scenario in real life. Another one of my favorites was "On My Own" from the musical Les Miserables, which is, to be sure, a beautiful ballad, but one that now resonates with me for reasons beyond Eponine's sad story of unrequited love. The last line in particular seems almost haunting when I look back with the knowledge I have now: "I love him...I love him...I love him, but only on my own." How ironic that the very thing I treated with such a cavalier attitude when I too young and dumb to know any better now rings true where it hurts most. Maybe the message I'm supposed to take from it is the fact that there is no answer to the "why" of it all, despite how much I may want one. "It is what it is" seems like such an inadequate explanation for the loss of a man whose morals and values could not be questioned by even the harshest of critics, but maybe it's the only one there is.

I'm sure to others this will sound morbid, but there are some days (like today) when I wish I could go to where Jon is buried, dig up whatever physical remains are still there, and just hug them in my arms.  Again, I'm well aware of the fact that that probably sounds incredibly creepy...but that's what longing to hold someone again does to you after a while.  Settling for a moment or two where I can touch him again in my dreams doesn't cut it when it's all I have left of him in this life.  I wish this were still someone else's story - another world from which I could escape.  Instead, I'm overcome with this strange sense of confusion after dreaming about kissing my sweet husband and realizing, even in the middle of the dream itself, that I'll have to wake up to the reality of this world sooner or later.  I don't want to wake up...I want to stay there in that alternate universe with him forever.  But all good things must come to an end, some of them sooner than others.  Until we meet again, I will be here - on my own - and dreaming a dream much different from the one I'm living...

"I dreamed a dream in time gone by

When hope was high 

And life worth living

I dreamed that love would never die

I dreamed that God would be forgiving.

Then I was young and unafraid

And dreams were made and used and wasted

There was no ransom to be paid,

No song unsung, no wine untasted.

But the tigers come at night

With their voices soft as thunder

As they tear your hope apart

As they turn your dream to shame...

And still I dream he'll come to me

That we will live the years together

But there are dreams that cannot be

And there are storms we cannot weather.

I had a dream my life would be

So different from this hell I'm living

So different now from what it seemed

Now life has killed the dream I dreamed."

~Fantine, I Dreamed a Dream (from Les Miserables)