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Sacred Ground

Friday, February 5th, 2010 | Dating after loss, Death of a loved one, Grieving, Healing after Loss, Help for Widows, Moving On | No Comments

I believe that after we leave this earthly sphere, we go on to another sphere of existence, where we may have the ability to see and be involved in (in limited ways) what is happening with our loved ones still on earth.

As we stood around my husband’s casket, the funeral director told my children, “You still have a father. He’s just in another place, but he will have the ability to see you, and be involved in your life when you need him to be. Know that he wants your greatest success, and he will do all he can to help you. Remember he is there.”

I spent frequent time recently with a widower. He is another traveler on this often-rocky road of unwelcomed solitude. I enjoyed his company, and I appreciated the opportunity to talk, one-to-one, to another adult about life and family in an enjoyable social setting.

I enjoyed conversing with a man again in a way different from the reserved way I interact with the other men in my life right now. I felt I could be a little more open, and the more frequently we went out, I felt I could be a little less aloof and freer with my words, actions, and emotions.

However, as I sat near him, and as we talked and went places together, I often felt I needed to exercise caution; that I was on sacred ground, where perhaps I didn’t belong. Although it had been years since he lost his wife to cancer, he still had great love for her, and admitted that it was hard for him to be out with another woman.

I sometimes wonder how much our partners who have passed on know and care about how we are carrying on with our lives. I’ve heard some widows and widowers who have remarried say that they felt their deceased spouse led them to their new spouse, and that they would be happy that they have once again found someone to share life’s burdens, joys, and sorrows.

However, I’ve also heard that there can be, in the human heart, places too sacred to be entered by more than one person. I have read that once a person has loved deeply, and then lost that love, their heart can never be free to really love another.

Perhaps that is what I felt when I walked next to my friend, and perhaps that is why eventually we stopped seeing each other.

I had been walking on sacred ground, and, as it turns out, I had been trespassing.

Abel Keogh in his book Room for Two found that, at least for him, there eventually came a time after his first wife died when his heart finally opened to the thought of loving again. He was able to move on and feel comfortable in a new relationship and build a new life with a new wife.

I don’t know how common that is. When I have been with widowers, I have felt an underlying, unwavering devotion to their first spouse – and, although it keeps me from entering their heart, I see it as a beautiful, tender thing. I don’t know that I would want it any other way.

All I know is this:

Walking on sacred ground can sometimes burn your feet.

I’ve determined to tread softly.