Journal Entry Fourteen- May 15, 2008 by Derek

I wake up to brilliant sunlight pushing its way past my curtains. Tossing and turning I try to ignore this early morning intrusion. Then from the pond, almost on cue, those darn ducks begin their quacking in a mocking tone that is, I imagine, directed solely at me. Reluctantly I surrender and drag myself out of bed muttering out loud, “Now what am I going to do at 5:30 in the morning?”

It’s May 15th, exactly one year and three days since my beloved wife left and traveled ahead of me. Time is supposed to be constant and measurable, yet Lin's passing at one moment seems like yesterday and the next an eternity. I come to this web page and I am astonished that my last entry was five months ago, and wonder if this is the reason for my early rising.

My loving friends and family email and call to ask how I am doing. Periodically I ask myself the same question, and I still search for the right and truthful answer. I have mentioned before that this journal seems to be for my healing. It may be just the safe place I need today to ponder the elusive question, "How are you?"

I’ll begin writing about the "doing" part of my life and then later share the "being" part. The doing: hmm... well, my house is absolutely immaculate, my oven is spotless, and I’ve put some colourful liners in the kitchen drawers. I'm finding that vacuuming is great exercise. I have discovered the magic of newspaper and vinegar and applied it to every window and mirror I could find. One morning before breakfast I even ironed the decorative bathroom curtains. Oh dear. I’ve heard stories about people who keep their feelings at bay by cleaning the house, but surely not me?

I am also exercising my spiritual and artistic muscles. Every Sunday a small group of us meet for a meditation circle at Carolyn’s place. A few weeks ago we gave a presentation to the local community. And for the first time in my life I created some hanging baskets of gorgeous colourful flowers in the garden. OK, I’ll admit this "doing" doesn't sound very exotic, does it?

Alright, then, how about this? California! Carolyn and I were invited last year to do a presentation at a conference of American Pilgrims on the Camino. With Lin being ill at that time I canceled, so they asked us again this year, and any excuse to travel south works for me right now. The four-day event was held in a stunningly gorgeous old Franciscan mission in sunny, lush Santa Barbara. People came from all over the States and other countries to attend workshops about walking the Camino pilgrimage in Spain. With an abundance of information about the Camino on the program, we decided to talk about our pilgrimage on Shikoku Island in Japan. The feedback was very flattering, with people praising our easy rapport and Carolyn’s incredible images of the 88 Buddhist temples. I told a few stories about walking, about Sadako and the thousand cranes and then my dream to walk in Japan. Carolyn and I also made about a hundred peace birds on our drive down south and we handed them to everyone at the door. People seemed really moved my that. I think it was good for everyone to remember peace.

To be back talking about walking and keeping the spirit of peace alive was very life- affirming for me, and of course my secret (?) need to be a star on stage was also nurtured. Being in such exotic peaceful surroundings warmed not only my body, but more importantly, my heart. It also rekindled the flame of a project that I am very excited about: a book! Carolyn and I came together almost four years ago to create a book, and after this last trip together we decided to stop talking about it and do it. We are clear now on our vision, and we are gathering stories and pictures to work with. We have promised to stay home and not do any serious traveling until this baby is birthed!

So yes, there has been a lot of deliberate "doing" in my life. And I can see that some of it's a form of denial to escape the pain of grieving. I still find it very seductive to want to hide, to curl up in a ball, to lock the door and close the curtains in my life. But sometimes that is how the "being" needs to be. When I allow myself to go into it, I soon see Lin with those big, loving, accepting blue eyes that seem to say, "Derek, it’s OK to rest in this place but please don’t live from this place.”She would not want me to live a life where I shrivel up and become small, afraid, angry and hurt.

I imagine the day when I myself pass on and leave my friends and family behind. What would I wish for them? Obviously I could understand them missing me for awhile, but then I would want them to live, I mean really live…fully and authentically. I would wish them to become even more because of having known me, not less. And isn’t this what Lin and I talked about in our last days together? I close my eyes and imagine Lin hearing me, and a comforting smile spreads across her angelic face. Oh great, those unrelenting tears fall down my cheeks once again. Through the sobs I make a promise to Lin and then to myself.

I intend to become MORE: more understanding, more loving, more friendly, more humorous, more accepting, more forgiving. I will walk more, I will laugh more, I will cry more, I will see more, I will hear more and I will accept all of this graciously as another gift from my darling wife Lin, who is still with me every day. So if you see me on the street and you ask, “How are you doing, Derek?” I hope you will understand if I smile and simply say “I am more.”