Mark to Sue 11
Today is a slow business day for me. As a result I'm scrambling to knock off some different maintenance and housekeeping items. I'm forcing myself to pause between sheet changing and toilet cleaning to jot down my thoughts - my head has been buzzing since I read your latest letter this morning. I wrote something the other night that I was reluctant to share with you because it contained the "L" word. Much like a scene I described to you in earlier correspondence, I was catching the tail end of "A River Runs Through It". If you've seen it, you may remember the ending which I won't describe . . . but this time the words, not the music, took me to that "Tragic spot". Thoughts rushed in and I jotted them down between tears. The words were in the original text of my last letter, but I threw them out - this morning I fumbled through the garbage to find them and here they are:
We still grieve deeply. I still grieve deeply.
Can anyone love me with the load I carry?
Could I love anyone else carrying this load of grief?
I don't know.
But this is my way now, my only way -
Chosen by Him.
Must I part ways with the past to move forward?
I hope not.
Can the past and the future be seamed together
To form one piece, a whole with
Joy and Meaning?
I'm afraid. But all of THIS is too weird to just be serendipity. So please tell me about you! I'm all eyes. If you want me to go first, I will. I, like you, know how charged our imaginations can get (maybe already are) . . . to such a degree that the reality of each other can never live up to the expectations living in our minds. But what if they do?! What an experience!!! What if the "dark side" of ourselves makes the tapestry even richer in color and texture? But still, I'm afraid for a vast assortment of reasons. One of which (a major one) I tried to express vaguely in the discarded text above. I LOVED Glenda. She once asked me if God had told me that cancer was in her future, would I have still wanted to marry her . . . Yes! Was my quick reply, but I went on . . . "I'm glad God doesn't show us the future. We couldn't handle such knowledge. If He permitted us to preview our options before making a decision, I'm certain each would contain a measure of tragedy and sorrow - and we would be paralyzed into indecision. He knew better than to give me such knowledge, for if He had, He knew I might opt out of His best blessing for me and the BEST fifteen years of my life."
Can God replace something good with something good? In my mind it's only logical to replace anything with something better - and it confounds me to imagine anything better than my life with Glenda (we weren't perfect, we did disagree and argue some). I guess I'm afraid God will answer that question by ushering in a joy heretofore unknown to me and possibly diminish, in my eyes, the richness of the past. I don't want to miss God's joy for the future nor do I want to tarnish the past. I cry as I write this - tears of complexity (love, pain, nostalgia, fear, and hope all balled up together), a first for me.