“I can’t conceive how it can work.” I fumbled for words.
The office was humble and modest. Brown sat in the chair which was angled at forty-five degrees from the wall on the right side of the window. I sat in a similar chair angled at forty-five degrees from the same wall on the other side of the window from him. The ninety-degree angle and six feet of distance between us gave me space to breathe and other places to look when tears filled my eyes.
Brown was my grief counselor. I asked my pastor for names of one-on-one grief counselors after my doctors had given me the distinct impression that the grief from losing my wife was driving all of my health issues. I disagreed angrily in my mind. Leaving one doctor’s office while my A Fib (irregular heart beat) was raging and fearing a soon death, I vowed to find out what was happening to me. Walking out of the medical office building, I made a decision. I needed two new doctors – one cardiologist and one general practitioner. I then decided to see if the current doctors were correct by engaging a private grief counselor also. When I sat in my car, I started making phone calls to get three new patient appointments with new doctors and the counselor. God led me to Brown as my counselor.
As my counseling sessions started, I wanted validation that my grief was a factor, but not the factor in my health issues. In other words, I wanted to know if I had lost complete control of myself in the grief I was experiencing. I needed to know if I really had no understanding of what was happening to me. I wanted to know if my grief was so bad that it could kill me! I wanted to know if …. no, I already knew that most of me – the best parts of me – had disappeared when Pam died that morning in July. Maybe what I subconsciously wanted to know was, could I find a way to live again if I survived the heart issue, and if the pain of losing my wife did not literally kill me.
I left the first session thinking, “That wasn’t so bad. I might possibly live.” Of course, Brown didn’t tell me that my grief was not causing my physical heart problems, but I still felt as if the grief was not the root cause. As each weekly visit continued, I gained more and more perspective on what my grief actually looked like. It was ugly. It was a beast. It was oppressive. But it was quietening more and more as time and discussions went on.
The new cardiologist reviewed two years of history and EKGs and then said it was time to deal with the A Fib. The new general practitioner assisted with the proper prescription in the proper dosage for the accompanying anxiety. Now it was up to me, with the support of my counselor, to move forward. Weeks and months passed, and then the holidays came. As I survived the “firsts” without Pam, our counseling session conversations turned to the future.
I began to ask how some issues would work in the future. The conversation soon narrowed to my biggest concern. How could I love anyone else after what I shared with my wife of 28 years? Yet, Pam had asked me to love and marry again if she went first. She said that I was not made to live without love and marriage, or to be alone. I had agreed when it was theory, but in the stark light of reality I could not imagine a loving relationship with anyone other than Pamela Joy.
She was my best friend, my soulmate, my heart, my lover. She was the perfect wife to me. “I can’t conceive how it can work.” I fumbled for words. How could I ever……. How could anyone……. How would it……… Would it be fair to someone else to live with Pam in my memories?? The torment continued in my mind and in the words that were coming out of my mouth as I sat in that office – in that chair turned ninety degrees from Brown.
My sentences were randomly spewing out and making no sense. Some of them were incomplete, and some were backwards. I was trying to tell him what I was feeling but failing miserably. I tried to say it in different ways, but just mismatched all the words.
Finally, Brown gently entered the conversation with a summation. “Are you trying to say that you are afraid someone will replace Pam?”
The words put a searing-hot fire poker directly in my heart allowing those exact sentiments to rush out. “Yes,” I cried! “And I don’t want her to be replaced!!” Then the tears flowed freely.
As I began to recover, Brown said, “I don’t want to trivialize your feelings here with my idea…”
I interrupted him, “Stop worrying about that. Every time you say that, something very wise and profound comes out, so just say it.” Now I was smiling a little.
Then he said it. The words came out that would right the ship of my world.
“Brad, think of yourself as a puzzle piece in the middle of a puzzle. On your right side, Pam nestled in and fit you perfectly. That does not mean that someone else will not fit you just as perfectly on the left side. No one will ever take Pam’s place in your life; she will have her own place.”
The words and the vision of the puzzle pieces brought peace – the peace I needed for my heart and my mind.