I didn’t expect the brokenness to come in waves.  For the most part, I am an independent, fully functioning adult.  Except on days like today.  Brian passed away a number of years ago now, but there are days like today where it feels like it was yesterday.  Days like today where I can barely function at all. 

It has been a while since I have been to a beach and watched the waves.  I am relying on my memory as I think of how the waves roll in and then out again.  I’ve been to quiet mountain lakes where the waves are merely ripples that lap gently on the shore.  These soft waves have very little force to them.  The grains of sand on the beach rise and dance gently with the movement of the water, but there is very little disturbance.  Most of my days are like that.  Most days, Brian’s memory plays in and out of my consciousness and there is no real disturbance to my day.  I walk the dog, I go to work, and I do the things that normal humans do.  I have also been to the ocean.  The ocean waves that I saw were large and strong and they crashed on the shore.  When I waded out into the water, unseen hands gripped at my ankles and pulled me this way and that on the shifting sand.  The waves there were unpredictable and violent.  They were captivating from a safe distance away as I watched from the pier, but when I stepped into the cold saltiness, the reality changed.  These waves were dangerous and had a force that I could not defend myself against.  That is how I feel today.  Today I am drowning in thoughts of him.  I am being pulled under by memories of how things were and the safety of being in his arms.  I am being tossed around by fears of the future and the uncertainty of knowing what direction to go or how I might get there. 

I have heard that even violent oceans can be calm at times.  You just need to wait for the right conditions for ocean waves to settle.  I don’t want to wait.  I want to go back to the gentle mountain lake with the soft, rippling water.  I want to feel the soothing swirls of sand between my toes, not the pounding surf.  I long for the clearness of seeing all the way to the bottom, not the distorted reality caused by seaweed fighting with frothy foam.  I want the relaxing rhythm of the mountain water as it calms my soul, not the thunder of the waves as they crash down on every single nerve ending.  But here I am; gasping for breath and struggling to stay afloat in my swirling thoughts of doubt and despair. 

I feel broken, like the waves that crash on the shore.  But if I let them, the waves can teach me things. The waves teach me that they are resilient, and so am I.  Waves are strong, and so am I.  The water can mold and adapt, and so can I.  As the waves crash on the shore with the same intensity that my emotions crash around me, I must decide to recall my experience that the waves will recede.  As the waves recede, I will once again be able to regain my breath and relax my soul.  The turmoil of the ocean inside me will, in time, become calm and still.  If I let it in, peace will flow through me and sooth the rawness until it is still like glass. 

The waves will continue, of that I am certain.  Loving deeply leaves a mark, that is for sure; but the alternative is to not love.  I will continue to choose love.  I will dance in the waves knowing that they will be both soft and fierce because this is what it means to be alive and human.