Stephanie and I had a date night last weekend. We ate dinner and went to see the movie Safe Haven.
The movie is about several things, but one major component of the film is that the main character is a single dad who lost his wife to cancer.
At the end of the movie, it becomes obvious that his dead wife is helping to orchestrate their lives, working to make sure that the father and her two kids are going to be alright.
Wouldn’t it be nice to know that those who have gone before us can, in some way, help us heal and move forward? What if they could intervene, maybe speak to us in dreams to drive us toward the good things that await us here on earth?
I’ve really struggled with that notion. I find it hard to believe that Lisa can see us. I think her grief would be so deep. Seeing her in pain as she neared the end of her illness nearly killed me. I can’t imagine her having to watch me grieve. I can’t fathom her looking down from above watching Stephanie cry night after night after night that first year. How sad she would have been to have missed our trip to Hawaii. How difficult not to be there to help DJ pick out her first dress for a high school dance.
And yet, how comforting to know we’re OK. What a relief to see us laughing, gut wrenching, on the floor guffaws.
At times I can’t convince myself that heaven has windows that can see outside. At other times, I think she must have had a hand in, or some influence on our fate over the past three years. There are just times that her hand seems to be on my shoulder, guiding me in my decisions.
Maybe she does help in ways we can’t yet imagine. Maybe she is provided a daily excel spreadsheet that outlines our progress, a way of keeping up without the burden of visual impressions:
1. Washed the whites with the darks again X
2. Joined that men’s support group √
3. Forgot to bake the cupcakes for special snack X
I wouldn’t want to see her hurt any longer. She had enough pain. But I guess there is a part of me that hopes she thinks of us as much as we think of her.