Dual Citizenship

When Barry died, he traveled where I could not go yet.  His passport was stamped Heaven, mine was stamped Heartbroken. I was thrust into a country I didn’t book reservations for. Each time I asked my GPS ( God Prayer Service) for a ticket to Life Before, the answer remained the same.  No return flight.

 Some of you understood that implicitly. You didn’t ask the gate agent when I’d be returning home to Life Before or look to a flight attendant to exchange your seats to provide you more comfort.  You rushed to my new country without hesitation.

 Some of you arrived without words, tentatively, but you stayed and listened, even though you never spoke the language before. You didn’t try to translate the language of my loss into an easier language for you, even though you feared stumbling over the words. You navigated the landscape here in Heartbroken —the slowed time, the sneaky booby traps of sorrow, the way love and loss often occupied the same streets. You understood that Heartbroken was a vast land.

You brought meals to Heartbroken and fed my family, while others helped me to redecorate so Heartbroken wouldn’t feel so barren. Some of you were already longtime residents of Heartbroken and you graciously offered to accompany me to the ’emotional baggage’ carousel, sitting with me as I numbly watched the bags go by in a circle, not ready to claim that which was mine.

You generously donated the currency of your country : presence, patience, remembering Barry’s name. You didn’t try to fix what could not be fixed. You never asked me to leave Heartbroken. You stayed long enough that Heartbroken stopped feeling uninhabitable and scary.

Sadly, others remained at the gate. Some offered early goodbyes; others kept their boarding passes in hand and stayed behind in familiar terrain without saying goodbye at all – choosing to forget Barry’s name. Their silence spoke volumes. Those losses I continue to grieve in Heartbroken. Others trusted the order of the terminal, the reassurance that life would continue its familiar routes. They would not leave Life Before. Their maps still worked. Mine no longer did. My map unsettled them, so they avoided Heartbroken.

I don’t fault them—this country is not easy to enter, and sometimes the GPS sends me to places I don’t want to go.  But love doesn’t wave from the gate, love crosses the border. For those of you who came to visit Heartbroken with me, I am very thankful.  For those of you who have chosen dual citizenship between Life Before and Heartbroken, I am profoundly honored.

P.S. If you are planning a visit, don’t forget to pack tissues, hugs and chocolate.

P.P.S.  – My soul is weary with sorrow;
strengthen me according to your word.
— Psalm 119:28

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