Learning to Fly Again

 Grieving in a pandemic has its challenges. It is so different from other grieving events in my life either as a parent or pastor. In 2010, just two years into Sabine’s cancer, my son, Matthew died by his own hand.

In that event, the family came together. We had a large family gathering at our farm. We walked our trails to the south hill and talked, shared and cried together. We called this now-hallowed ground, Restoration Point (see picture below). From it we began to heal and I captured my life up to this point in a poetry book by that same name. Restoration Point” meaning both geography of place and an historical family event.

On one hand, I guess I am glad not to have to encounter a large group of family members, but at the same time I miss the hugs and care that we were able to share among ourselves before this pandemic.

But this time is different. We are in a continually threatening pandemic and distance means health and safety; thus, we have to learn to grieve and begin healing in a new and different way. I remember that every crisis is marked with both danger and opportunity.

Today marks a month since Sabine’s death. Just writing this information brings front and center my pain... how can I ever live without her? Sabine was truly the “wind beneath my wings.” 

Everything and anything I have been able to accomplish since 1980 was with her loving influence — the wind beneath my wings. What am I now without Sabine? Who is David without Sabine?

That is the question into which I am called to struggle. It is both frightening and challenging. Would she want me to pine and moan? Hardly. Anyone of you who knew her would hear the same words I hear from her: “David, as a couple, we always looked forward. We took absolute joy in our blessed relationship that spanned 40 years. How lucky were! I have always loved you and always will. With the years you have left, get on with your life. Keep me and my spirit with you! And don’t forget to be happy and dance just like we always did.”

I have decided not to run away. I am working to simplify my life and its responsibilities and spend the remaining days in this old farmhouse that we both loved and hopefully helping others by letting my life teach.

God has blessed me with good health here in my 8th decade. So, while I work to simplify and center my life, I will be doing some traveling and will be in the process of entering a new stage in my life: life without Sabine. 

I hope to emerge in a way in which she would continue to be proud of me; the unique, special way she had of relating to others, solving problems, and teaming with me. Her love for me never faltered, nor did my love for her.

When I was ordained to the priesthood 25 years ago at Edgewood College, I remember looking around at friends and family members who had come together to support us in this new stage of our life together, I quipped to Bishop Roger White that he had, mistakenly, ordained me instead of Sabine!

Anything that I have done or accomplished since first meeting and falling desperately in love with her in the fall of 1980 was because of her conditional love for me and vigilance to make sure I that I was happy and successful in whatever I did. She was the most self-giving person I have ever known.

We all know that she was the wind beneath my wings. I will now have to learn to fly alone. God, did you hear me? Please help me to learn how to fly without her. Remember God, this is what she would want for me.