You ever jump behind the wheel of your car filled with excitement? It doesn’t matter how many miles you have to drive, it could be thousands, but you are just so excited to be on this trip. You have your destination in mind. You’ve sacrificed and you’ve plotted and you’ve put all those little “X’s” on the map where you thought you might want to stop along the way. You know where you’re headed and you’re well on your way to There. And because you’ve told yourself so many times, it has become deeply ingrained in your brain that “it’s the journey, not the destination.” So you’ve enjoyed the moments, learned from your travels even through the storms, and with every mile along the way you’ve been graced with a memory as you’ve reveled in your journey.
So what happens when you’re almost to There and you’re jolted from your comfy seat? When your map has been shredded and it lies at your feet in scattered bits on the floor? How do you find strength to continue on your journey to There when you suspect that There may no longer exist? Tell me, which direction do you head when you drive in circles to reach a destination that has now become an illusory icon that appears always out of reach? And, if you can still remain faithful to the idea that it’s the journey, not the destination, where do you find the strength to continue on your journey when what you see before you is one dark tunnel after another, with a tease of light here and there? How do you convince your tired soul to remain on this circuitous route while nearly every mile now exhales a memory that takes another nip at your already broken heart, as you strive to reach that phantom destination? I know, I know, I know. I preach to my brain every minute of every day. I’m digging up some strength….. somewhere, somehow. But some days I am just so weary as I struggle on my way to find peace and acceptance. I miss Ben so much!