A heart full of gratitude and love

Although Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s words “There is no Frigate like a Book

To take us Lands away” assure me that reading is the preferred mode of traveling when one is actually not traveling, I opted for movie-watching this first Valentine’s Day weekend without Chip. Since the weather wasn't conducive to walking Rocky (part of my original plan to get through the weekend), I set myself up at my kitchen counter with my laptop and hit play on movie after movie that I had never seen before (all of which I would recommend to anyone looking for a movie to watch).

On Friday evening, I watched the The Ottoman Lieutenant. Described as a romantic movie, I was hesitant to watch it, but did so anyway. Certainly, it was about the love affair between a nurse and an Ottoman officer in WWI Turkey/Anatolia, but it wasn’t the love story part of the movie that resonated most deeply with me. It was the death scene near the end of the movie with which I connected most. In the end, the main character Lillie says, “I don’t know if I will ever stop thinking of him” (How many times have I had that same thought?). And, then, in a voice over at the end of the film, despite losing the one she loved deeply, she says “I still believe in a God that is good and just.” I couldn’t agree more.

Dr Woodruff, another relatable character in the movie, knew the pain of grief, having lost his wife and daughter before the movie begins. When Lillie loses the man she loved, Dr. Woodruff understood the pain of her loss. He expressed, without words, that he understood her deep grief as well as that she must get on with the business of living and fulfilling her life’s purpose. Without saying it, his eyes tell her “I get it. I one-hundred-percent get it.” I have both given and received those same knowing gazes with the friends I made in my grief support group.

The journeying and connecting to characters and places I had been continued with each movie I viewed. From war torn Anatolia Friday evening, I was taken to Java on Saturday morning while watching Kartini: Princess of Java, which was set in early 1900’s Indonesian society (How different Java at that time was from my experience on Bali in the early 1990's). Saturday afternoon, I watched A Little Chaos, a film about gardeners designing and building King Louis XIV’s gardens at Versailles (How I loved walking through the gardens of Versailles as a teenager). Saturday evening I watched The Help, which took place in early 1960’s Jackson, Mississippi, as well as The Fundamentals of Caring, a comedy-drama that took me on a road trip from Seattle, through Idaho and into Utah. Both movies made me want to visit (and better understand the histories of) states in our Union which I haven't experienced yet. Late into the night, I started A Fortunate Man, set in Denmark at the turn of the 20th century (how much I loved visiting Denmark and Sweden with my parents in 2016), but was lulled into a sleepy state by its slow first 10 or so minutes and its dreary, gray skies. I finished it this morning (it’s nearly 3 hours long) in the light of day, and ended up connecting with many of the characters and storylines.

In between movies yesterday, several moments brought joy to my heart. The first one involved locking in my plans for Chip’s one-year memorial in Jackson, Wyoming (the down payments for our climbing trip in Jackson and our stay at an Airbnb in Victor, Idaho have been made!). At another point in the day, I emailed Henry’s high school friend Damien, who will be an eighth climber on our 3-day climb to the summit of the Grand Teton mountain and who lost his father to cancer a few weeks ago, to introduce myself and to express my excitement that he will be joining us.

Damien and I exchanged several emails throughout the afternoon. In his first response, he included the picture in this blog post (shared with his permission). The photo of Chip lighting Damien’s cigar was taken at Henry and Damien’s high school graduation. I was so grateful for the photo he sent as part of his introduction of himself. It truly lifted my heart to see Chip in 2012 looking healthy and happy. In subsequent emails, Damien and I shared teeny-tiny slivers of our life stories and agreed that a sense of place is so important. When discussing the plans for scattering Chip’s ashes in Wyoming and his family's plans to scatter his father’s ashes, he wrote “The physical realm is not all there is, but a sense of place is still very important.” I thought that sentiment was simply beautiful. Across the course of the Valentine’s Day weekend without Chip, it occurred to me: despite losing Chip, there is much I have gained. I have gained the photo of Chip at Henry's and Damien’s graduation and the stories and heartfelt words of a friend of Henry’s. I have gained so many images of Chip from his childhood and stories from his own high school friends. I have gained knowledge, experience and connection in these last 8-1/2 months that I wouldn’t have acquired if it weren’t for losing Chip. I have deepened connections with his friends and family as well as my own and made new connections. There is much to be said for these priceless gains.

Having stuck to my original plan as well as having done a few things not on the plan for this Valentine's Day weekend, I am feeling grateful. I woke with a heart full of thanks for all of God’s blessings. I won’t lie and say I haven’t cried today (I have cried hard several times), but I will say I feel renewed having made it through this date on the calendar. Maybe my travels on the frigates that took me to Turkey, Java, France, Mississippi, Idaho, Utah and Denmark left me feeling more grateful than expected (to be sure, some very horrible things happened to the characters in each of the movies and I am so grateful for the time in history that I live in). Maybe it was the brief connections made with Damien and the photo he sent or the plans put in motion to scatter Chip’s ashes in August that made my heart feel fuller than it did before the weekend. I’m sure the phone calls and texts from friends and family today to check in on me added to the feeling. The crab cakes, asparagus and lobster Mac ’n’ cheese I had delivered certainly nourished me at lunchtime. And, wearing the meaningful jewelry given to me by my children and friend Jen smoothed over the sadness in many ways. To end the day, flowers delivered to my door just now, sent by my daughter Calli, cemented my belief even more than before that God truly is good.