Shooting Stars

[kpgct]

When my late husband and I were first together, I lived in a house in the middle of a 15 acre orchard. The property was surrounded by woods and the nearest neighbor was a very quiet, private golf club.  My bedroom was on the second floor, and one wall was filled with windows that looked out over the top of the apple trees. On clear nights, especially when there was a full moon, you could look out through the leaves tipped with silver and watch the resident herd of deer forage for dinner. It was lovely.

 

I remember the first night that we spent together, lying in bed in his arms, looking out at the winter night. The Geminids were fully in their glory, and the sky was filled with shooting stars. I dreamt of those stars, and woke with the certainty that I would love him forever, and that one day, we would have a child together. I do, we did?and it surprised me, for I am not a woman who believes in prescience.

 

Many years later, again early in December, we woke our little boy in the middle of the night and took him out to watch the shooting stars. Wrapped in a blanket, tucked in between us, we told him the story of how we dreamed of the life that we came to have.

 

It?s been seven and a half years since my beloved had to leave us, and that little boy is about to be a college sophomore. In that time, despite our loss, there has been much to be grateful for. We know that life can be good again.

 

The last couple of years, however, have been pretty bumpy; there?ve been significant, unexpected losses, surprising challenges, and far too many tedious and tiring demands. I?m not happy, and it?s not surprising. I?ve lost two dear friends in less than a year, and grief ? different certainly, but oh, so evocative ? sits with me like a shadow. I?m not patient with grief, I?m not tolerant of sadness; I would like it to be gone.

 

A few days ago, at that odd moment between the last night and the next morning, I sat on my deck and looked up at the sky. It was too cloudy here to see the Perseids, and truly, it was a day before they were expected to peak. There were no shooting stars in sight, but the night was very busy and quiet, in the way that only a late summer night can be. It occurred to me, as I sat there, that those shooting stars were still there?on their swift and fiery journey?even if, at that moment, I couldn?t see them. There?s a lesson in that, one that I?ve yet to fully absorb.

 

The last two nights have been clear, and I?ve seen some of the brightest, most brilliant shooting stars that I?ve ever seen. Last night, that small boy, now a young man, lay on the grass with me at the top of a hill in a very dark park, as we struggled to stay awake to watch the show. As I watched him, looking so intently at the sky, I realized that the world is still filled with much to be grateful for, even if, at the moment for me, it is merely a glimmer on the horizon.

 

So this evening, with yet another clear night expected, I?ll sit with friends as the light wanes, and we?ll count the shooting stars as they travel across the sky. I, though, will be working very hard to also count my blessings?.

 

[canadiangirl]

Beautiful.  Thank you, kpgct.  Some of my most precious memories are watching shooting stars with my DH.

[widowat33]

Beautifully written.

The title caught my attention. Two months before my dh's accident we gathered the boys up at midnight to spread blankets at the lake to watch the meteor shower, we were there for hours, all of us snuggling up on our backs watching the sky.

The night of his accident I was waiting outside for him to come home, he was so late I knew something must of happened. About ten minutes before the police pulled in my driveway a shooting star shot across the sky, I took it as a sign things would be ok, I was very wrong. A few days later the police officer, who is also a friend, told me she was waiting down the road to get the go ahead to tell me about him dying in the accident and she said the brightest shooting star went through the sky over my house. She is not normally the type of person to believe in signs, but she said she took it as a sign that he was watching over us.

This is a quote I was considering getting a tattoo of with a pic of a shooting star, "like a shooting star flashing across the moon, so fast, so far, you were gone too soon".

I'm not here yet, in Beyond active grieving, however some times I do catch glimpses of a future that can be fulfilling and happy. At times I can even find things to be grateful for. Thank you for sharing this

 

[canadiangirl]

widowat33, thank you for sharing.  You made me cry at breakfast - so beautiful.  I love the tattoo idea.

[Euf]

Beautiful.  Thank you for sharing your thoughts.  I hope you found a multitude of blessings to count.