It was spring now, and he was still angry. How could God let this happen? It didn’t make any sense, and there was no good that could come out of it. The only thing that kept him from drowning himself in alcohol, was that she had been killed by a drunk driver. It had been three months now since the funeral, and the pain was too much, it was endless, and he thought he might die.
He pulled back the curtain from the living room window, and looked at the beach. From seven stories up, he could see for miles, and the horizon seemed to echo his thoughts about an eternity of pain. Then he noticed a couple walking parallel with the waves, along the beach, holding hands. He closed the curtain quickly.
People meant well, including his father, who had sent him here to get his head together. He needed to get out of town anyway, get some fresh air. No matter where he was though, he was miserable. He went to the grocery store that afternoon, hoping to lose himself in the routine. Should he go out to dinner tonight? And maybe later go to the Purple Haze Café? No that was out. He would cook up a vegetable omelet, without the mushrooms, and stay at the condo.
For the next two days he avoided the beach. He stared at the walls, and sometimes watched TV. He knew he was being stupid, but he needed time to think. How could he live without Susan? He tried the curtain in the living room again, and as he looked out, he had to admit it was beautiful.
Instead of fixing himself dinner that evening, he went down in the elevator, and out the condo door, to the sand and the waves. No wonder he had resisted coming out here. He hadn’t wanted comfort and peace, and here it was now staring him in the face. He started taking deep breaths. Why was it nature was like this? Offering what he didn’t have, and what he needed?
Instead of sitting down, he decided to walk, close to the waves. He took off his shoes, and couldn’t help but notice the freedom, of his own bare feet. He walked, thinking about how he could straighten himself out. Should he try yoga? Therapy? His father thought so. He hated the idea though of talking to a stranger, somebody who was qualified simply from a college degree. No, not that. He walked for miles, losing track of the time. He did actually pray some, well a little. All he said was, “You’ll have to help me with this one.” “This is too much to carry, way too much.” And that was it, that’s all he said.
As he walked back, towards the condo, for some reason he thought of going to church. His mother would love that! He had not been in years. Was there a Catholic church around here? He would find out. Tomorrow was Sunday after all. Maybe after the service he could talk to the priest. He could ask him….well he could ask him…..about forgiveness. He felt like he was digging himself out of a deep pit, but at least he was making the effort.
Blessings to everyone and PEACE!
Writing © Copyright 2015, nicodemasplusthree
images from google