The Meaning Of Life

Today will go down in history as a pivotal, life-changing day in the history of my existence here on earth.

No, in case you are wondering, I did NOT win millions in the lottery. I didn’t meet the man of my dreams. I didn’t even have my ‘car washed’ due to a chance rainfall. But something truly significant occurred today despite all of that: All of the effort, the struggles, the trials and tribulations of losing my husband and losing my best friend, the frustration of the subsequent aftermath of those particular events, the bittersweet moments of having my only son join the military and be shipped off to Okinawa, Japan, watching my income dwindle down without anything concrete to replace it – I finally, finally felt a subtle shift in the Universe; in terms of my presence in the grand scheme of things.

I know plenty of people are like me; you work and you work and you work and you do that for such a long time that you start to feel like you can never get ahead. Things happen (spouses die and people you care about intentionally or unintentionally break your heart, for example) and you, against your own wishes or preferences, start to feel like a victim. Then, the depression and self-loathing sets in. And one day, you raise your eyes to the heavens and you shake your fist and scream at the top of your lungs, “WHY is this happening to me?!? What did I do to deserve this??” And you just want to die, literally die right there on the spot: Just let a truck come run you over, or lightening to strike you, or drop dead of a sudden heart attack. Because anything is better than this torture, right?

And here’s what I discovered, on this very meaningful day in my life: Things don’t happen to you to change your life. YOU change your life. And yes, shit happens – it happens to the best of us, it happens to the people that you pass by on the street, that you see every week at church, that you work next to side by side in the office – people whose kids are doing drugs, or whose spouses are cheating on them, or beating them, or who just got laid off after 28 years on the job, or at the tender age of 23 have a rare disease that is causing them to lose their sight, or whose best friend just killed himself because he couldn’t see a way out; a way through. And sometimes, even though it seems like everything you touch turns to crap, you keep on trying. You keep struggling. You keep crying, and raising your eyes to the heavens, and shaking your fist and screaming at the top of your lungs. What you don’t do is give up. You. Never. Give. Up.

I think about my entire life; all of the experiences I’ve had – from my dysfunctional childhood to my high school years with overly strict parents through my first marriage followed by the years as a single mother – and I’ve often thought that as I am contemplating how much easier my life might have been had this or that not happened, the person I am today is a product of all of those things. The bad and the good. Then I had my time with the Bunny; my “reward” for surviving all of the previous life trauma, because I never gave up (yes, I’ll admit that I came pretty close on a few occasions). And then I found myself alone again. Did I do something wrong? Was I being punished?

And I realized, those are the wrong questions to be asking. What I should be asking is this: what did I learn from this? Who in my life did I affect in a positive way – in such a way that is unique to my ability? Because if you ever start trying to convince yourself that you are worthless and that the world would be better off without you, just stop for a second and think about all of those people affected by your life. First and foremost, I always think of Christopher. Not just the fact that I gave birth to him, that’s a given. He’s come to me time after time, asking his own questions; I’ve shared my perspective, given him advice, given him love – I am irreplaceable in his eyes. He will only ever have one mom. And I was lucky enough to get that job.

It’s the holidays, so naturally at this time of year I think more introspectively about the Bunny and Liz. This past weekend I took two girlfriends to this little Irish tea house that Liz introduced me to. Bren and Monica had never experienced “tea” before… it was a novel, new experience for them, and during our conversation I shared that it was Liz that had introduced me to tea there for the first time. Here I am, over a year after Liz’s death, and she is still affecting not just my life, but the lives of others in a positive way.

That’s what I want to do, to be. And in fighting for that goal – despite every curve ball that life throws out at me – I make my place in this world. The one I feel I belong in, where I am secure, where I am comfortable, where I am strong.

I read a quote recently which kind of stuck with me. I don’t remember exactly the wording and I don’t remember who originally said it, but the jist of it is this:

“The story turns out any particular way based on where you choose to end it.”

In other words, when looking back over the landscape of one’s life, it will either end good or bad depending on where it literally ends.

Today, I think I could actually drop dead and be the happiest I’ve ever been, ever. Not because I won millions in the lottery, or met the man of my dreams. But because I didn’t give up.

And my story’s not over yet.