Slices of Life
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Our search for meaning is nearly as old as time.
I’ve been round and round and round again (and again) with widowhood. To say I overthink it is the understatement of understatements.
It seems like something this big and this life-changing should have meaning.
Big meaning.
I can’t imagine going through what this has put me through without it having meaning. Purpose. Immense purpose.
Without that it would be such a waste. That would be even more sad than losing my person.
And that feels devastating.
To be honest – and I can say this now that I am out of the dark, suffocating cloud that encompasses the center of grief – now that I am nearly on the other side (and I’m not sure there really is another side) I’m surprised I survived.
I’m glad I did. I think I’m glad. I wouldn’t have wanted to give up or to die, but at times it felt like death, or maybe something close to death or maybe something much worse than death.
Because based on what I believe now, death is pretty awesome. It is a gateway to the spectacular. And we all will love it when we get there.
But that isn’t supposed to be now. At least not for the most of us.
So we grapple with life - the struggles of it all and the meaning therein.
Because we all struggle. We all deal with our own struggles.
And each one of them seems so personal at the time. Because it is, but then again, it isn’t. None of them are.
Because as personal as my struggle has been, there a lot of widows and widowers who are traveling through the turmoil that is grief.
Many people struggle with mental health issues. Likewise (sadly) for people with cancer and other diseases. There are lots who are physically or cognitively disabled. There is abuse and neglect, poverty, homelessness and hunger. Many struggle with pain we all can see and even more with pain we can’t.
There are so many ways to challenge the joy-filled happiness we all believe is supposed to comprise life.
We struggle collectively and we struggle individually while we search for a purpose to it all.
What does all this mean - for me, for the people I love, for the world at large? And why?
Why the need for the pain? The suffering. The despair. The confusion. The loss. Being lost.
What is the purpose of it all? Shouldn’t there be a purpose? A meaning?
Perhaps pain is a teaching moment. Perhaps it is an integral part of the purpose.
Boy, wouldn’t that suck? But it does make sense.
Maybe, pain is growth. Maybe it can lead to clarity.
Clarity regarding the small stuff; none of it matters. Clarity regarding the big stuff; none of it matters.
Our suffering is real. My suffering has been real. I will never deny that.
Oftentimes, suffering, in its specificity, feels personal. It feels like we are the only one, when that just isn’t true.
We all struggle. We all suffer. We are all outcasts - in some form - at one time or another.
And it is what we do with that and because of that - for ourselves and for others – inward and outward, that propels us forward or backward or somewhere in-between.
It is what helps us define the meaning. It helps us find the meaning. Perhaps it is the meaning. The purpose – to move beyond and through the suffering to understand none of us is in this alone. We are all here together.
Perhaps that itself is the answer to my original question.
Jill Pertler is an award-winning syndicated columnist, published playwright and author. Don’t miss a slice; follow the Slices of Life page on Facebook.
