The Train

The Clickity-Clack...Clickity-Clack of the wheels on the train lulled me to sleep as I was gently rocked, cradle-like, in my narrow bed in the sleeper car. The room was cozy, (translation ~ small), but clean, comfortable and adequate for two ‘thirty-something’ sisters on a journey from Barcelona to Paris and beyond by way of Switzerland and Germany. Mesmerized by the quickly changing shadows on the ceiling and walls as we scurried past little villages I fell into a contented sleep

.

It was coming upon midnight when the train stopped. To our amazement we were told that we were at the Swiss border and that the train needed to have its wheels changed in order to fit onto the different sized track for the rest of the journey. This was amazing and at the same time quite disturbing as I could not begin to fathom how this massive project could be done at all let alone with all of the passengers still on board. I assumed the seasoned travelers were still nestled in their beds but it seemed that most were standing at their windows in nightgowns, robes and slippers! 

But it was done in record time and we were soon back in our beds sleeping soundly, rocking left to right, left to right to the Clickity-Clack of the new wheels for the next track-line. (I understand that this method has been replaced by variable gauge axles now).

A few weeks ago I injured my knee. Oh it hurt!  It hurt day and night, it hurt when I walked, it hurt when I sat, it hurt the most when I tried to stand and it hurt to lie down. Regardless of what I tried or the distraction I created with movies or food or social media my focus always came back to the pain. It ruled my life; it dominated my thoughts and confounded the ability to function normally.

It has healed now, I’m fine and even though it is no longer screaming out for attention, I still appreciate the value of having a good knee!  I'm quite attached to it in fact.

I realized shortly afterwards though that for nearly three years now my underlying mind-set has been the pain of being without Dale. Similar to my aching knee, when I wake up in the middle of the night that emotional raw pain is there in my mind and heart. Or when I finish anything, be it reading a book, watching a show, painting, taking a walk, shopping….you name it.  As soon as the distraction is over my brain’s default falls into focusing on the pain of being alone.  Not just alone, although that has taken a good deal of adjustment, but the pain that continues on unceasingly is being alone without him. I’m not seeking companionship, which would take care of the being alone but it would never take care of the being without.

In the early hours of morning and as my eyes go from deep sleep to wide awake in a literal blink as they so often do, I’m aware that this emotional pain dominates my quiet times. I can involve myself in all kinds of distractions and goals which work but unless I carry it on 24 hours a day those transitions between activities times quickly make my mind re-set to that standard default which is emotional pain.

But to try to fight it or deny these emotions only makes me focus on them more. One cannot simply say goodbye to a 42 year old bond. 

But then I think of that train. I don’t need to disembark from the comfort of the train, the “being the-wife-of-Dale” train; I just need to change the wheels for use on these current tracks. The old wheels having morphed into the painful emotions that are always turning turning turning below the surface of my very existence.  And perhaps, just perhaps, instead of fighting it or protecting myself from that pain… I should just simply release it.  Not release my love for Dale or the memories but release the painful emotions. 

I asked myself to just let it go. And I felt a change come over me. A freedom. I realize that I may be required to release the pain now and again as it crops up unexpectedly until it becomes the standard mind set. Who would have thought that quietly releasing the pain and have it flutter silently away as if on butterfly wings works better than bravely fighting it and trying to force it to stop!

I’ll talk about Dale’s passing now when I need to but without the pain. I’ll think about it when I want to but without the pain. Isn’t doing that like being fitted with new wheels that work on the track of my new default set point? The one of emotional happiness for the time we had instead of emotional pain for what I've lost?

I stopped by the charming little book store in the village yesterday to look for a children’s book I had heard about for my grandchildren.  Pushing open the front door I passed by the little café on the left enjoying the aroma of fresh baked muffins and then past the book loving employee handing a book to a customer; “I play the guitar and also paint” he said, “And I believe that writing is an art as well and this author is the epitome of that” he went on to elaborate the finer points of the book which I missed as his voice faded away as I continued on in my pursuit of the children's nook.

There it was - a delightful little place with colorful books and matching fluffy toys, a table with chairs and a big rocking chair.  I found the book I wanted and sat at the table to peruse. I was aware that a little child had climbed into the rocking chair next to me but I didn’t look up from my reading. 

Then interrupting the quiet, a little voice: “Hello”.

 “Hello.” I answered back.  I turned my head now to see her - She was a darling little girl with deep blue eyes and long wavy black hair. She sat with her legs crossed and clutched an overstuffed purple unicorn up to her heart.

“I don’t have any friends” she divulged with sad eyes and a trembling lower lip. “Nobody likes me”.

I put down my book. “Why do you think that is?” I asked. Captivated by her dark blue eyes.

“Well I did have a best friend but she moved and I won’t ever see her ever again.” There was agony in her little voice.

“I lost my best friend too” I told her.

We both sat in silence for a few seconds.

“Did your best friend move too?” she questioned.

“No, my best friend died.”

“Oh” she said.

And I could tell she knew now that I understood her angst.

She continued on with her woeful story…“So I tried to get Abby to be my new best friend and she just hit me and told me she doesn’t want to be my best friend”.

“Well that’s a problem” I sympathized. “Why do you think she said that?”

“I don’t know!” she sighed. “She pushed me away and when I tried to pull her arm she hit me so I bit her”

“Perhaps she’s not best friend material” I mused. “The thing is, you need to be friends before you become best friends. Do you think if you were not looking for a best friend and concentrated on being a friend that you might be happier? The best friend part could come later.

“Maybe” she said

“Are there other children in your class that you like?”

“No, none of them want to be my best friend so I don’t l like them”

Are there any children who are nice to you?

“Yes”

“If you had a book to write in, could you write down the names of the children who are nice to you? (I've become keenly aware of the power of counting your blessings at a time such as this).

“I don’t know how to spell their names”

“Can you draw pictures of them?”

“Yes”

Could you draw them with happy faces?

“Yes”

She started rocking and I could see she was in thought, so I finished reading my book, but as I was disappointed in it I decided against buying it and said, “Well I’ve finished my book, I think I’ll put it back and go now”

She reached over her shoulder and grabbed a three headed dragon puppet from the puppet tree and as I put the book back on the shelf she said in a pleading little voice, “Can you give the dragon a hug?”

I did, and I told the dragon that I loved him and that I thought the dragon was very brave. I told the little girl my name and asked her if she would draw me in her new friend book.

She smiled, nodded and hugged the unicorn and dragon.

We had both found a new friend.

I walked out of the book store and climbed into my car and as I fastened my seat belt I realized that it hadn’t pained me to talk about Dale dying. It isn't that I don't still love him or miss him, but like my knee - I don't have to be in pain to recognize what's there. I had released the emotional pain of my loss.  Clickity-Clack Clickity-Clack... my journey through life can continue now.