Neuer Gedankengang!

Can you see it? Can you hear it?

My friend Linda visited Kuekenhof Gardens in Amsterdam with her daughter Mollie a few months ago. Mollie was a little surprised when Linda stopped by this piece of sculpture, and said, I have to take a picture of this for Shirley! And I'm so glad she did!

I wanted to share it with you and see if you - those of you who knew David - can see what I see. Can you see him sitting in this chair? And can you hear him laughing, and going, How neat! I think we would have had to camp out in those gardens if we had been there in person! For sure, if he were still living, I would be showing this picture around to find someone who could reproduce it for him as a gift.

For now, I have a copy of it by my work station, and when I look at it, it gives me a little sense of his presence. I hope I never loose that sound of his laughter in my memory! It is a gift.

And now it comes at a good time for me. This summer is truly the season when I am living out the title of this blog, Neuer Gedankengang, or new paths for my thoughts. It is a season of adjusting, perhaps in ways I hadn't done before, to David not being here, to my being alone.

Of course in so many ways I'm not alone, and I'm truly grateful for that - for the friends I have around me, for a job I enjoy and people who are fun to work with, for family that may be far away in miles, but as close as email or my cell phone (or a plane to take me to Dublin!), and of course for a church where folks demonstrate for me what it means to be part of the family of God.

Still, there is this huge gap, and as I look back over the last two years, I know that I have resisted really accepting that gap. It was almost as if I believed that if I said loud enough and often enough, But I don't WANT to be alone!, that the clock would turn back, and I wouldn't be alone. I really know that it is time to move past that.

I don't think that means that the gap will go away, but that the energy I have used fighting it will be used in different ways. Instead of sliding more deeply into the gloomy mood, I already feel a lighter spirit and a sense of purpose. This is of course somewhat bittersweet - I feel the sadness, and I don't fight it. But little by little, a step at a time, I'm incorporating that into who I am. I believe that is a good thing - I believe it is creative and part of God's plan to shape me and my life.

Many people are coming alongside me right now to help me make better choices day by day, choices that will improve my health and enrich my life. I am very grateful for those people and for their love for me. And in a funny way, as I imagine David sitting like a big old bird, as Lynda Pruitt would say, in that kangaroo chair and laughing, I experience that also as encouragement.

I will share one more thing with you - a poem that I wrote a few months ago. I sent it to people on my email list, so you may have already seen it. It really helped to start this transition process for me. You may find that it will remind you to never fail to speak of your love to those close to you.

Unfinished Conversations

The phone always rang in the middle of the afternoon.
The conversation would be short.
“How’s your day been going?”
“Oh, pretty good” or “okay, I guess.”
He talked about his clients,
Who were both funny and frustrating.
He talked about some dumb thing the dispatcher had done.
“Do you want me to stop at Dinner’s Ready
and get supper?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Okay, I love you, good-bye.”

Sometimes one of us would call the other
With news that wouldn’t wait until the end of the day.
“Guess what, you’re not going to believe this."
“Why? What happened?”
“I ran into so-and-so, and now I know WHY!”
After the juicy bit of information was met
with the expected shock and surprise,
“Well, I have to go back to work,
I just wanted to tell you before I forgot.”
“Okay, I love you, good-bye.”

The days and weeks were filled - with tests,
with waiting for doctors, with asking one more time
for help with his bath.
At the end there was only the drugged sleep.
The time was so short, and
so much was in the way.
I know he would have said to me,
“I’m going home, you know.”
And I would have said,
“Okay, I love you, good-bye.”

For David
Shirley Schuette
April 20, 2008

posted by Shirley Schuette @ 12:47 AM