Forgiveness

 

"Forgiveness," Brett said softly.

I inhaled slowly, exhaled.  "Forgiveness," I repeated.  

"Forgiveness," Shannon murmured.  "Oof.  That's a heavy one."

"Forgiveness of others or forgiveness of ourselves?" Lisa asked.

Brett smiled.  "Yes."

Our meditation intention had been chosen.

As we settled on the beach that morning, I felt the sand calling me down into it, so I lay on my back and stared at the sky.  

Forgiveness.  

In the aftermath of THAT DAY, I had a few people ask me if I felt guilt at all, if I felt there was something I could have done or should have done or wished I would have done.  No.  The answer was always no.  Scott and I always, every night for as long as I remember, hugged goodnight and exchanged "I love you."  It was always intentional and heartfelt.  That last night was no different.  We had a great evening together, just hanging out and enjoying each other's company.  We watched a stupid movie, then I went to bed after our hug and I love you exchange.  I wouldn't change a thing about it.  As for his death, there is nothing I could have done.  He went to sleep and didn't wake up.  His death is how we all want to go.  So no.  I have no guilt.  I have nothing to forgive myself for.

Forgiveness

Anger is a common response in grief, and I had several people ask me if I was mad at Scott for leaving me.  Again, no.  I have never felt anger toward Scott.  I have had anger, but it was directed outward at all the people going about their safe, comfortable lives, when mine had been hit by an earthquake, tsunami, and tornado all at once.  A good friend of mine recently lost his wife, and we met for dinner one evening to compare notes about our experiences.  I expressed to him how much anger I felt toward other people.

"Yeah, I understand," he said.  "But here's what I've learned since my wife passed away.  Heidi, everyone is dealing with something.  Everyone.  But the days keep coming, and we are forced to move forward."

Yes.  Everyone is dealing with something.  

Forgiveness.

During one of the long, sleepless nights after THAT DAY, I was talking with Shannon on the phone.  It was late, I was crying, and I asked him, "Why?  Why is Scott dead when there are so many horrible people still alive?  It doesn't make any sense."  I could feel Anger arriving.

"Heidi," Shannon said quietly, "asking why is pointless.  You won't get an answer.  It's a waste of time and energy."

I sniffled, felt Anger take a step back.

"You can't get these days back," he continued gently.  "Grieve.  Be sad. Be mad.  Feel everything you need to feel.  But don't waste your energy asking questions you will never answer.  Put that energy into something good."

Forgiveness.

As I lay on my back on the sand, watching the tops of the trees and staring into the cloudless morning sky, I felt myself settle.  Perhaps Forgiveness gave Anger a gentle shove.  Maybe Anger realized he was no longer welcome or needed.  Either way, I felt Anger dissipate.  Surrender, Joy, Acceptance, and Gratitude lay on the sand with me.  I smiled, got up, and got ready for another amazing day on the river with three astounding people.