Tag Archives: emotion

Running the Gauntlet

“A gauntlet is a double line of people with clubs, whips, tomahawks, fraternity paddles, or other weapons; the poor bastard being punished runs between the lines and everyone hits him as he goes by. Depending on weapons and circumstances, this has been used as an initiation, a test of courage, a way to decide which prisoner to let go (to take the message back that you are holding hostages), or a way to execute someone without making any one person responsible.” (http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Run%20the%20Gauntlet)

This post was to be called “I’m OK” in response to the many people who are expecting me to fall apart as the anniversary of losing my Paul looms.  But the more I took an honest look over the last year the phrase “Running the Gauntlet” just kept popping into my head. So in true morose style I gave in to the fact that although I really am OK, there is also a welling backlog of emotions waiting to surface. I hate that! Each emotion a powerful and formidable weapon awaiting its opportunity to take me out. Not one willing to take the full blame or strike the deathly blow, but all pounding away together weakening my resolve.

I am of course “the poor bastard” in this story that the above definition speaks of. But I hate pity and remember that not everyone dies that runs the gauntlet.

Is it hard?

Yes.

Are there injuries?

Yes.

But there are survivors. Injuries heal and I hope that as those mental images of hospital wards and ICU equipment taking over my Paul lose their sting more and more, I too will join the list of the brave that survived.  “A test of courage” indeed it is. To open my eyes, heart and soul to another day and another hope indeed feels like a courageous move that I hope I am brave enough for.

I intend to be that “prisoner let go”, in fact I insist! There are few comforts in grief, and although it took me a year to accept it, I am now encouraged to see if I can help another soul lost in grief see the light of day, to find some bravery, and to see hope again. Somewhere, somehow, I hope for that. To be that one running back to the King pleading for those still held hostage by their grief. The King will help, how do I know that? Because He helped me.

So, I am through the gauntlet…you know, I hope! Still some wounds to heal, but all in good time. No rush, no shortcuts (unfortunately), but I am OK. The memory of the gauntlet is strong and still very powerful, but I survived and will continue to do so.

I am OK.


It didn’t kill me.

winter sring

 

One year gone is just around the corner. Such a conflicted thought. What emotion do I feel first? I’m just not quite sure.

To tell the truth I wasn’t quite sure I’d really survive a year, really, I couldn’t see how such pain could yield anything but darkness. Complete despair is blinding, and hope doesn’t seem to take root. But what I’ve found is that it is more like a bleak winter. Snow, ice, and bitter cold destroy all signs of life but when springtime finally rolls around shoots of life can appear. Sure some things have died completely, but other things begin to flourish again. It’s also a time when new things can be planted, but I’m careful, the shoots are very delicate. Roots not yet established only hold enough nutrients for right now, so easy does it!

Part of me feels ready to burst forth and try to live again, I welcome that, it’s a new feeling. Yet not other parts, hence the conflict. But I hope the good parts will take the lead and the rest follow suit. I need to feel purpose again, feel love again, and continue to actually live. I think my Paul would welcome that, and my heart feels his smile just at the thought. It’s nice to remember him.

I will always remember him.


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