Sharon and I were married on this day in 1986. I was twenty seven, she, twenty nine. So many memories of that day. Central Park. Her simple but elegant Mexican wedding dress. The cork stuck in the wine bottle. Trouble breaking the cheap (and thick) wine glass in the grass. Ted Rosenthal's amazing jazz. Peter's cooking. Sharon's family leaving early en masse to have New York Chinese food.
I write in my journal every morning. Sometimes I get into a subject worth sharing in the blog. My writing style may be a bit more freewheeling or choppy, but here's the entry from yesterday.
Meggan booked us some activities as well as the AirBnB; yesterday we did a bike tour. It was beautiful. As I was riding through the streets of Seattle I had the thought, “It's good to be alive.” Of course I immediately thought of Sharon, and what she had to accept. When I think of her I like to say, “Hi, honey.” out loud. Riding yesterday felt like Joy, quiet but real. 
HOME. What is it? A concept. A community. Familiarity. My home included Sharon. She's pulled out of my concept of home, and what do I have left? Community. Familiarity. How much does that make a home? It can remain an open question. Am I “away”, or am I “home” wherever I am? Why do I want to see the world? Why NOT see the world?! I'm lucky enough to be able to travel the world now. Retired. No grandchildren. My family of origin was dispersed when I was eleven. As an adult I had a mother in Richmond, a father in LA and a brother in Montreal. I made a new family. We were all together. The children became adults and moved away. My life partner dies. I'm alone, but in community. I leave my community. I'm not attached to anyone.
Deep in the amygdala is the desire to be part of a tribe. Absent that, I am a wanderer. But there is another deep instinct to also desire new horizons. We each have within us the Hero's Journey. Mine was thrust upon me when I lost Sharon. People's lives change drastically, every day, all over the world. As we go through our lives, we mostly prefer that NOT to happen. But it's always right around the corner, and we never know which corner it will be. We also know we have to turn corners every day. Life is like one big Jack-in-the-Box.
I suppose that's the essence of resilience; we can never not be surprised by the “pop” when it happens, but we can understand that as long as we're turning corners, we know there will be one. The danger is in trying to avoid it by never turning corners. It also boils down to attitude. And here is where my philosophizing breaks down; I want to say we can resent or embrace drastic change, but really, how many people can do that? I think I understand Life well enough not to resent the cards I'm dealt, but I can't “embrace” losing Sharon or my son's love. What I can do is embrace moving forward, turning corners (metaphoric and literal) and seeing new horizons. And sometimes, to quote the title of a C.S. Lewis book, be Surprised by Joy.