Bridge-Jumping

(Note: This post goes along with a video of Brandon and me jumping off of a bridge into Provo river for fun a couple years ago. I can't currently share the video on this blog, due to permissions settings on the video, but for now I've posted a screenshot of it, and if I ever find the original video, I'll post it here.)

Brandon and I took a lot of leaps together. He was often the one standing, while I may have tended to play it a bit more reserved (hence, jumping from a seated/more grounded position).

I miss that era. I miss jumping off of bridges into frigid water, longboarding down beautiful mountain paths, wading in little streams, tracking down waterfalls and mountain peeks and moose on hikes with children strapped to our backs.

I never think of us as poor college students, though I guess demographically, that is exactly what we were. (And I know we definitely felt it more at some times than others.)

Things were going at a lovely, exciting pace - sometimes stressful, sometimes peaceful, but always energetic.

I don't think of him as much as I'd like to anymore. Distance makes my memory bank feel more depleted than I'd like. The problem is, I can't make more installments in that particular account, so what I've got is what I've got. I think, sometimes, it keeps me scared of making withdrawals. It's as if my pulling up a memory will just remind me that the supply is finite - or at least frozen. My eternal companion account has been frozen.

Haha, He'd love the financial metaphor going on here. He wouldn't love that today I felt so crippled without him. Usually, my ever-loving, endlessly-empathic earthly companion, Billy Oden's presence helps soothe the sting of loss when it strikes me on days like these, but (much to his dismay) he couldn't be physically present with me today. God bless the people and systems that led to the creation of telephones and FaceTiming, though, because speaking to him across the distance made all the difference.

Billy reminded me that my memories with Brandon are many and varied, and I can not only safely let those memories surface, but I can call them into existence in my mind and heart - and in our family - as often as I want, and (maybe more significantly), as often as I need.

I think I choose not to at times. I choose feeling safe and secure and forgetting the trauma, instead of remembering those things about him and about us/our relationship that made it so his loss really was traumatic. I don't know if it's possible to mourn the loss of someone you don't love. So if I block out the memories of love, I shield myself from the stabbing pain of loss. Problem solved!

At least, I mean, that might work if I were a frozen snow queen who didn't care about the state of my heart and health, let alone my family. And if I didn't care about being authentic and honoring one of the great truths of my life. What IS that truth?

It is that I have loved and lost, but I know it is better to love again. And again. And again. And to keep remembering that love.

I don't have to stop making "installments," just because he's dead. Billy often reminds me that my capacity to love is within me, myself. As I make a habit of giving love, sharing love, and remembering love, it is MY heart that is growing in its capacity to bear love. So someday, when Brandon and I are reunited, I will be able to love him so much deeper and fuller than ever, because MY heart will have expanded and grown strong through the exercise of love.

I honestly don't like sharing these kinds of things these days, but today it feels necessary. And I know there are many who do NOT understand half of what I'm talking about, particularly when it comes to talking about my love for one husband while living with and loving another, who today is counseling me on the first. I do NOT fault you (or judge you at all!) if this is the case for you. Before boarding the good ship S.S. Widow, it really used to bother me to read about or hear stories about remarried widow(er)s (#honesty). I couldn't wrap my head around it. And I do not expect anyone who has not been through my particular experiences to wrap their heads around it either. It's mind-blowing and confusing and there's no getting around that. But what else is mind-blowing (though not confusing) is how strongly and clearly the Lord has made my path known to me since Brandon's passing. He's led me to Billy. And he's led me to so much unanticipated happiness.

Had it been up to me, I never would have made the leaps I've made in the last few years. They were too high, too painful, too wrenching - too scary. At least, I would've thought they were. But an all-seeing Counselor, Friend, and Father in Heaven clearly didn't want me seated for whatever it is He has in store. He showed me I can stand, even after the biggest freefalls of my life. So why not start those jumps from the same position: standing and ready, grounded not in fear of the unknown, but in the reality of what I do know.

I do know that the Lord God was with me through all that darkness and pain and loss, when Brandon died. He held my hand - no, He held my entire being! And He held me erect, even when I literally felt like collapsing. So I do know that He will continue to be with me. And I know that He wants me to remember and to love and to trust and to laugh and to live joyfully no matter what happens.

So, I guess that's the plan. Now, please excuse me while I take care of unfreezing my account. Sometimes that process is so complicated, but it's definitely well worth it.