Saturday

I woke up at 1:30 again. I tried to fall back asleep but it didn't happen. It was strangely quiet, even the crickets had stopped chirping. I am staying with my sister in California and the road she lives on is nothing like the six lanes on the other side of the block wall in my backyard. The hum of traffic back home is near constant, slowing in the night but never resting. Like me, it seems, I never rest. Not for lack of trying.

I flopped about trying to get comfortable, listened to a meditation, did some deep breathing, got up and used the bathroom. As a I settled back into bed, I heard an odd sound through the open window. I love the weather here near the central California coast, and feel comfortable having the window open on the second floor. At first I wasn't sure what I was hearing. It sounded like rain but I knew it wasn't raining.

It was the marine layer, heavy on the big oak tree outside my window and dripping from the leaves. I listened to the sound of the drops rolling off the leaves and onto the roof of the house and the concrete below. It was soothing but not enough to evoke sleep. Sleep has become a battle ground. Though I wish to embrace and succumb, my busy mind is at odds with that goal. The noise of both the recent and distant past calling me to consider, and I do. I cannot seem to make sense of or let go, effectively torturing myself on a near nightly basis.

On this night, I managed not to think of myself, though my perspective is colored by my own experiences. I thought about my sister and the loss she has had. The many ways her life has, and will continue to change. The road ahead. It is tough to start over, though there are many victories. Moments you realize how capable and strong you are, and always were. But, there is always an onslaught of doubt. Coming up against things your spouse did, memories of the ways you divided the load. As you take on what used to be the job of another, you can't help but wonder. Did my jobs mean anything? Was my contribution appreciated? Did I bring value to the relationship?

For me the answer is not so much but for my sister, I think she knew how much her partner valued and appreciated her. I'm not gonna lie, I envy that. Feeling known, loved, appreciated just as you are. I can only guess what that is like. So, I wonder how my sister feels. If it is better or worse to know that your person had your back and loved who and what you contributed. I wish I could get out of my head but there is no answer that makes sense, no closure. I simply have to let it be, but I am not there yet, though closer.

I know this loss, this experience, is not about me. It is about a love and a history that I admired and was lucky enough to participate in and witness on occasion but it was not mine. For me, it is an aspiration, something I can only imagine, thought I had experienced but no longer sure what was real or true. That, is as much about me as anyone else. All of these thoughts rambled through my mind as I listened to fat droplets roll off of leaves and crash down on other surfaces. 

I can't help but draw an analogy to people. The storms, sunshine and just plain weather of each of us courses through the people we love and interact with. Sometimes blossoming and creating growth, and sometimes leaving a path of devastation. It depends on both of the players and an understanding of that interaction. I am so pleased my sister was on the receiving end of someone that also understood.