Sometimes
when I write a blog post, short story, letter, or even a social media post, the
title comes first and I start writing with the general notion of where I want
the piece to go. At other times, I’ll be thinking about something, something I
need to take care of or mulling over something I want to write while I’m doing
something unrelated, and a title jumps at me, and I know that I must write it. And
there are those pieces I write under a ‘working title’ and the published title
comes when the piece is complete or nearly complete. If I only had more control
over my muse. Writing sometimes has a mind of its own.
I
was recently riding my bicycle on an alternate route from my preferred course,
one that was repetitive in nature since I didn’t want to be too far away from
my car with rain threatening. Traffic was not a big concern as I was riding around
in the Hahamongna Watershed Park across from La Canada High School and it was
Labor Day, so no students and mostly disc golfers with a smattering of walkers
and dog owners here and there. With no major worries about getting run over by
distracted drivers, my mind and heart were freer to wonder where they wanted
than during other rides.
I
found myself thinking about Cindy and our more than 50 years of history
together when the thought that there would never be another Cindy for me
floated by and I knew that I needed to write under this title, “There Will
Never Be Another”.
Cindy
has been the one constant for me for over half a century, dating for a couple
of years, then married for 50 as of this past June. Once I finished my
Bachelor’s degree, we married and spent two years working our way through
nursing school for Cindy and a teaching certificate program for me. Then we
launched Cindy’s nursing career while I floundered around looking for a PE
teaching job post Prop. 13, and then went on for a good long career at the
phone factory.
We’ve
raised three children, seen them through to college, married to wonderful
spouses, and now we watch them raise their children. But, they don’t live with
us and sometimes we go for too long a period between visits. We each have
lifelong friendships but those go through their seasons as well. And they don’t
live with us. Cindy’s been there with me the whole time and there will never be
another Cindy.
Cindy
is brilliant in mind, spirit, and soul. She shines, creates, and enlivens our
home. I love watching her with our children, both as we raised them, and now as
they are adults. She brings her brightness to the table with the grandchildren,
all seven of them. She takes care of me in more ways than she likely realizes,
even while we watch a BBC mystery series together. Her presence keeps me
grounded.
When
she is out with friends for lunch or coffee or a morning walk, the house has a
quiet that can be unsettling. Sure, I like it for a bit for its seeming
freedom, but then the aloneness starts to settle in. When she is home and
quiet, even to the point of taking a little nap, the quietness is not nearly so
pervasive. I know that I’m not alone. The same can be said of my travels – road
trips with friends, solo rides for a few days. And let’s not forget that
interminable year of traveling to Oregon to take care of my parents and then
wrapping up their estate. My goodness, that was long and lonely even with my sisters
around. I felt weak and incomplete. I missed Cindy.
Good
Lord, how I love that woman. Not well all the time, but with a muchness always.
I
have watched as friends and family members have lost their one-and-onlys, I
have sat with them and walked by their side as they processed their grief and worked
through reimagining lives without the unreplaceable soul. I have written about
their grief and shared in the struggle to find a new normal.
I’ve
had honor and pleasure of watching some of them when someone new come alongside
them, bump into them, or wash over them like an outsider wave at The Wedge. These
are not replacements, another to take the place of the lost one. These are new
like fresh baked goods from God’s kitchen complete with the aroma of a tray of
cookies right from the oven. They were not planned, at least from the side I’d
been watching. Who knows how long the new person has been loving them from far,
or even at the next table?
In
my heart, I believe these new partnerships have been ordained. They have not
been created to replace the lost love. These people have big hearts, and the new
union has been built on the foundation of the former love, it has not replaced
it. A couple of them have a shared loss and grief. I won’t name these friends,
if they read this, they know this is theirs and that I’ve reveled in their good
fortune at lighting striking twice.
My
Grandpa White was one such recipient of a second partner for life. Grandma
White had suffered from breast cancer, once beating it only to have it return.
They had been married for over forty years, had one son, my father, and they lived
well. I was 17 at the time Grandma White passed away. When my dad gathered my two
sisters and I together a few months later with a worried expression on his face,
he shared that grandpa and our Aunt Katherine would be getting married. Instead
of being mad or shocked, we first wondered about a grandfather and an aunt
getting married. How could that even be legal, marrying your sister-in-law?
Since they were both in-laws with the common point the lost spouses in between,
it was okay. If I’ve confused you, deal with it, and do your own math. They had
been friends over the years and had shared griefs. We were ecstatic that they
would be together and be happy. It was a small wedding with just our family and
my high school girlfriend. The waitress at our little celebration lunch that it
was she and I who got married. I was 17!
Now,
being a Christian and riding a bicycle on a day like this last one, my thoughts
of never having another roamed over Jesus and the family of believers. With
Jesus, there will in fact, never be another. He is the one and only true Son of
God. We cannot replace Him with someone new. Another can never stand in his
place. He was in the beginning and came and walked the earth to bring the good
news about redemption and then paved the way with the sacrifice of his life for
us. We will never need to replace him and could not do so even if we that it was
possible. One sacrifice for all time for all sin, it was sufficient. If we
accept it.
We
will never find another Savior. From time to time, we may find that outsider
wave washing over us, but it will renew our former passion for the One rather
than replace it with another Lord. Lightning will never strike twice in this.
Unless that’s how he chooses to wake our sorry butts up to his presence and get
us going in the right direction.
Here
is to our one-and-onlys, our soulmates, the unreplaceable thems. Hold on to
them, love them completely, learn to love them better each day.
In
His grip,
jj white
 |
| Intarsia piece by my dad, Russ White |
