The truth in clichés

"Time heals all wounds." It was a comment made to me many times by friends and family (and strangers) in the days and months following Karen's death. It is not surprising or unexpected for even the most eloquent and well-meaning of people to fall back on such a cliché when confronted with such an unnatural and devastating event. Indeed I'm sure that were I the one struggling to give comfort at a time of unimaginable heartbreak, I too would invariably utter such a sentiment. I think it is a natural crutch on which the mind relies when trying to understand the incomprehensible.

There were times I wanted to shout back my objections when people said this to me. What happened wasn't something that upset me, or put me in a bad mood, or bummed me out. This was utter devastation. How could time heal this wound I thought. How could ANYTHING heal it? But I held back my words. I knew, even then while I was in the closets thing to hell that I have experienced in my lifetime, that no good could come by lashing out at those people who were only trying to express their sympathies in one of the ways that came natural in an unnatural situation.

Now, some sixteen months later, I am in awe at the restorative power that time actually does possess. While not a day - or, at times, an hour - goes by that I don't miss Karen and reflect on what happened, I am able to experience life in a way that was inconceivable in those dark days. Where before I was unable to be in our apartment, I now find myself to enjoy it as the home it was for us and for me now. Streets I couldn't walk on for fear of the bitter memories they evoked, now remind me of the happy times we shared. True there are still a couple places I have not been able to enter and certain songs that I turn off upon hearing the first few chords, but these are far fewer in number than they were. Similarly, instead of avoiding newborns and pregnant women, as was what I did for so long, I now find myself sharing in the joy my many friends are experiencing recently. This does, however, come with a melancholy twinge that I keep to myself and that I'm sure will remain with me forever.

All these changes are palpable and fall in the realm of things I never imagined could happen. So now when I consider the cliché so often said to me (and others suffering similar experiences) I understand its validity but also its incompleteness. Back then, when people uttered those words, what I heard them saying to me was that time will put things back as they were or that the pain will fade as all memories of her slipped further behind me. The first idea being, of course, utterly impossible and the second being scary because I feared the prospect of loosing the happy memories along with the painful ones. Hence, I rankled at such expressions of support and comfort. What I didn't comprehend until recently is that the true, complete comment should be: "Time heals all wounds, but the scars remain forever." The addition of the added portion is important to me because it changes the implication - offensive at times - that time will make you forget as a means of allowing one to go on with their lives to something that embraces what was while allowing for the progression to another phase of life.

And going on to another phase of life, while NEVER forgetting what once was, is what I am doing now. This progression is marked by several changes and decisions I made recently, all of which were made after much contemplation and introspection. The first, as I mentioned in an earlier posting, is that I've left the practice of law. I am still in the process of finding what my new career will be, but the decision has been a positive one already and I have been in investigating a variety of options.

The other big decision is that I am preparing for a trip to Korea, Japan and Southeast Asia. This is a journey that in may ways has been thirty-six years in the making for me and, perhaps more importantly, one that Karen and I intended to undertake with James. I depart on April 10 and will give more details in a future post as well as providing updates periodically (dependant on Internet availability, of course) from the road.

So today I feel as if I have journeyed to hell and back. And while I bear the scars of the experience, I also retain the joyful memories of the life snatched from me, which will guide me as I press forward. I was asked recently whether I would trade the time I had with Karen in order to have avoided the heartache and misery I suffered from her death. I needed no time to think about the answer because just as there is truth in the cliché about time, equally true for me (if not more so) is that it is far better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. With Karen this was absolute and I count myself beyond lucky to have had the time with her I did and to have known the person she was.