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Chapter
1 (cont'd)
The crossroads of my life insisted that I make a
choice. My “I can do it all alone” attitude had to go.
I was beaten.
It was very humbling to turn my will over and choose life over
death. I began to pray more frequently. At night I visualized
placing myself into the comforting arms of God and allowed God
to comfort me. In the middle of my life transition, I began to
feel a sense of peace.
I was very thankful when my property sold for just
enough money to pay my bills and allow me to move to be closer
to family. It was painful to let go of my past and all the things
I worked so hard to keep, but the more I let go the better I began
to feel.
Moving from my dream place with three bedrooms and
two baths on a two-acre mini-farm, to a small, one-bedroom rental
was a challenge. I was close to the mountain and called my new
place “The cabin.” There was still snow on the ground.
The cold weather chilled me to the core.
For several days I had no Internet service or even
a television to watch. The door of my mind began to open and I
cried for my most recent losses. I thought I was making new discoveries
about heartache, only to hear the words come back at me from the
local Country & Western radio station. There had been a song
written about everything I was feeling. Every new concept in my
awakening brain had already been felt, written and sung about.
I was not the first, nor would I be the last, to have a broken
heart. I would live, though I felt as if I would die.
This move convinced me that all the excess baggage
from my past lives had to go, including my emotional baggage.There
was no place for storage, no money to rent a storage unit and
no energy to pack and unpack “things.”
There it was, waiting in the center of my bantam
living room, demanding my immediate attention. With its silent
voice the 1968 cardboard box from Vietnam once again beckoned
my heart to explore its contents.
I decided I would read Bruce’s letters one
last time, then place them into a smaller box and never, ever
open it again.
The mere thought of saying good-bye to Bruce caused my heart to
feel shattered. I held his watch and sobbed uncontrollably. Through
my tears I saw the scratched face of the 33-year-old Zodiac watch.
It began to tick. I visualized a serious look on Bruce’s
face and could see the concerned expression in his blue eyes as
if he were pleading with me to listen.
It is time.
I knew exactly what that meant. The time had come
for me to choose to deal with the loss of Bruce, or not.
It was as if I had touched the root of buried grief
that entangled my soul. I recognized that this chain of events
had brought me onto the stage of opportunity. I continued to cry.
The emotional pain was intense as I held his watch against my
chest and accepted the call to begin the journey that would free
my tormented soul from the grasp of my unresolved grief.
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