Maybe I'm Not Brave

 

For the first time since John died I told myself that I did not have be brave.

There is an ache in my heart that hates myself for it and a shame that lingers in the quiet moments making me wonder if I should force myself to do it anyway.

Some of my family is going camping...and if you know anything about who John was, you will remember that he loved camping...loved it. He tried to go as often as possible, he even tried to convince me to go camping for our honeymoon (that was a hard pass). I enjoy camping, but never to his level, I enjoy comfort more. His absence leaves me regretting every camping trip I talked him out of and every vacation we took to the beach instead. 

I'm sorry...I could have done better. I could have chosen to be the adventurer that you were instead of being the strings that tied you down. I could have said "yes" more often than I said "no"...I could have...but I didn't.

But I also know that you loved me more than you loved camping and adventuring...I know that you had zero regrets about our life together. I know that you loved our life. I know that we were exactly who we were supposed to be to each other. 

I was the string that kept you grounded and you were the kite that took us off on adventures. 

But that string was severed...

And I just don't know if I even know how to adventure anymore. And if I'm being honest, I don't even know if I want to...because maybe I was never the adventurer...maybe it was always just him. Maybe I'm even too scared to find out how to be an adventurer without him? Maybe I was never that brave after all.

I decided not to go camping. Because I don't want to have to be brave this time. I don't want to have to figure out how to live his favorite adventure without him. I don't want to have to learn how to take care of it by myself in one more space where he took care of everything...where I so selfishly let him.

I feel like I'm taking the coward's way out...avoiding the space he loved so dearly...instead of facing it head on...but I can only do so much as a widow...

Because I have enough spaces I must be brave in.

I have enough choices I must make alone.

I have enough legacies I must continue on by myself.

I have enough life I must face without a partner.

And maybe I am just not brave enough for one more thing? Or maybe I am just too afraid of falling apart and having no one to catch me? Because I just never know if the next thing will break me...and I don't have the luxury of having someone who lives as my safety net. 

Maybe I'm just not brave enough right now?

Maybe one day I will be brave enough to be both the string and the kite? 

Maybe...

But today...today I gave myself permission to not be brave...and I guess that's a part of healing too.