Our lifetime is the recipe for creating our eternity.

                                       

My son, Carmen, died in a car accident in 2008.  He was just 20 years old.  I have spent the last four years digging myself out from under the shock, trauma, and grief that accompanied his passing.  In order to do this I realized that I needed to create a new life because the one I had when he was alive did not exist anymore.  He was gone, the relationship severed tragically and instantly when his car hit that tree in Middleboro, MA.  I have begun a music career, moved to a new town to start over, taken new jobs, began new relationships, analyzed and reflected, and basically picked/packed myself up and moved on.  These changes have been good ones for me.  I have learned to smile again and to be joyful again, and I appreciate everything in my life.  I really don’t cry as much as I used to now that the reality of acceptance has set in.  I’m okay……..usually.

And then a holiday or an anniversary or his birthday occurs and I am thrown back into my despair and grief.  This happened yesterday.  Carmen’s birthday is Tuesday (tomorrow).  This would have been his 25th birthday.  Yesterday was awful.  I got up and started crying.  I was so upset and crying so hard that I had to call my sister to talk me through getting ready for work.  Birthday’s are especially difficult because I know I carried a child who is supposed to have a birthday, but then the day will arrive and there will be no child.  It will be an empty day.  Oh sure, I know maybe some people say I should just remember the good times, but I can’t just remember the good times without also having to remember that he is dead.  I am still processing the fact that he is gone, never mind thinking about the good times.  His passing is the most traumatic memory in my entire life.

So yesterday I kept crying.  I was angry too, so angry that he’s not here.  Angry about the stupid car accident.  Angry he was driving too fast.  I went to work though, but my eyes were so puffy from crying and I couldn’t concentrate.  I thought I was going to explode into a pathetic, slobbering, emotional wreck.  I could feel the tears and the emotion welling up in me so I decided to just clock out a few hours early.  I started crying as soon as I got into my truck.  I could barely drive.  I was supposed to be going home, but ended up at the beach instead staring out at the ocean.  I was going to just sit there till it got dark but I was getting cold and I couldn’t run the truck because I was almost out of gas.  I started the truck and went home. A very good friend of mine came over to keep me company.  He made me a sandwich and we talked and listened to music together.  He didn’t want me to be alone.  He went home about 10:30.  I started crying again.  Then, right before I went to sleep I was still thinking about my son, but all of a sudden I was able to understand something I’d never thought of.  It was like a light bulb went off in my head, and I had to write down what I was thinking. 

This is what I was thinking:

I thought to myself how I had just spent the entire day crying.  Then I thought, well, when I am at the end of my life I will view this day along with all the other ones and I will probably regret the fact that I did not spend it helping someone else nor did I really bring joy to the world.  I spent it on myself, crying, and I thought about the future “me” who would be reviewing this and how disappointed she would be right before she passed on into infinity.  She would have to carry the memory of this day with her.  Then I had like a burst of clarity and I thought: My thoughts and actions in my life are defining the infinity I will exist in.  It is my responsibility in this life to create and manifest how I will spend eternity, and this will be defined by the choices I make in my life. 

It’s not just about now, this particular life we are living.  This is actually a preparation for our eternity.  This lifetime is kind of like being in the kitchen mixing the ingredients for how we want to spend our eternity.  Our lifetime is the recipe for creating our eternity.     

This bit of enlightenment opened up my mind as if a bright light were turned on.  I could see my future self reviewing my life and then passing into eternity.  I wouldn’t be punished or rewarded, however this life I’m living right now will determine whether or not I lead a joyful or miserable eternity because who I am and the decisions I make will determine my outlook. 

So then, I could sense my son wanted to say something so I wrote:

“Mum, please don’t cry again tomorrow.  Let today be enough tears.  You don’t know how many days you have left and I don’t want you to spend even one more of your days in tears.  You’ll regret it big time later on because each and every day is a gift and remember those days you spent crying and grieving, well those were days you could have spent smiling and being joyful.  Like, say you only have another 30 years left, Mum, do you really want to look back and see all the days you spent crying?  Is that what you want to see?  Enjoy your life, Mum.  When you look back over your life I want you to see happiness and joy, not sadness and grief. ”  I’m thinking that Carmen might be right on with this, and he certainly does have a perspective now that gives him wisdom I don’t have yet. 

Imagine an eternity of misery because I spent so many days crying or being miserable in this lifetime.  NO THANK YOU!  I own my eternity, same as I own my life.  These are mine.  My  future, throughout all of eternity, belongs to me.

I get it.  I friggin get it!!     Amen         



           

Sharen Wendy Robertson owns the copyright to all posts on this Blog.

A birthday gift for “Mum”

                                      

I’m going to share something that happened at
work yesterday. It seemed to me like my son Carmen might have been had a
small part in it. First, let me start by saying that the next few weeks
are kind of difficult for me because Carmen’s birthday is coming up on
the 29th. It’s okay though, it is what it is, but I’ve been a little bit
more teary-eyed than usual and will continue to be so until after
the 29th. Anyway, I work at Macy’s right now in the cosmetics dept. and
every day I have a sales goal. So, yesterday it was $308. My manager
came up and gently reminded me that I’m only at 50% of my goal, and that
I only have two hours left on my shift. Okay. So then I get a few more
customers and it’s getting near the end of my shift, I’m still off my
goal by $29. Whatever. So then I look over in the glove and scarf dept
and see a lady (say in her late 60’s) holding onto the counter and
trying to lift her leg. I leave my counter and go over to check if she’s
okay. She leans on me and says, “Oh, I have such a bad cramp in my
leg.” She holds onto my arm and we walk around a little bit. I carry her
bags for her and we head over to my counter, where I have a chair. She
says, “Oh, can I rest in your chair.” I said, “Well, of course.” It’s
kind of at an elevated height so I almost have to lift her up. I asked
her where her leg hurt (it was her calf). She said she gets cramps at
night but not usually in the day time. I told her she probably needs
some potassium and that she should stop and get some oranges on her way
home. I felt so bad for her. I reached down and rubbed her leg. Then she
started to feel a little better and I helped her out of the chair. She
said, “Can I buy this hat and scarf at your register?” I said sure. We
walked over to my register. We started chatting a little bit. I rang in
her stuff. It came to $29. Then at the end of the sale it showed her
name because she is a Macy’s customer, “Carmen ______” I stared at the
screen on the register, surprised, and said, “Oh, your name is, Carmen?”
She said yes. I smiled, my eyes began to tear up and I looked away for a
second. I regained my composure and gave her change and her receipt and
said, “That’s a nice name, Carmen.” She was a little bit puzzled that I
liked her name so much and I said, “Well, that was my son’s name. He
died in a car accident in 2008 and I don’t hear his name much or get to
say it anymore.” She smiled at me. Then we continued chatting. I told
her I am at Macy’s right now because I relocated to Dartmouth a few
years ago to kind of “start over” after he died. I like my job, but I’m
still looking for something, that this is more like a temporary thing.
She said, “Oh, you’re looking for a job? I live in Mattapoisett and I
have my own business working with the elderly.” I said, “Oh, wow.” I
told her a little bit more about Carmen and told her his birthday is
coming up on the 29th, and that I am sad and that I miss him so much.
She said, “I know how hard it is for you. I lost my son too.” I said,
“You did? What was his name?” She said, “Paul.” I said, “How old was
he?” She said, “He was 24. He died 15 years ago from cancer.” I said,
“My son would be 24 right now, 25 on the 29th.” I said, “How many
children do you have?” She said, “I have four.” I said, “Oh wow, same as
me, and where was Paul in the four?” She said, “He was my youngest.” I
said, “Same as me.” Then she came up and hugged me and I started to cry.
She said, “I know, I understand.” (Funny, because I was just comforting
her when she got that cramp in her leg.) She gave me her business card
and took my number and said she’ll call me next week and we will have
lunch. I’m looking forward to getting to know her. I also made my sales
goal. Carmen’s purchase brought me to exactly $308, exactly what I
needed right before my shift ended. Sweet. 

I can hear my son saying, “See, Mum, I’m always here.  I’m still here.  I love you.”



Sharen Wendy Robertson owns the copyright to all posts on this Blog.

Every simple blessing

                                                

Sometimes I get worried. Sometimes I get
down. Sometimes I can’t see the light. Sometimes I get weary and think
I’ve had just about all I can take. Sometimes I wonder where I will
find the strength to keep on keeping on. At those times, I let my mind
envision hopelessness and I may even let myself wallow in it for a short time, but
it’s at these lowest of times, when I am digging deep in my soul for meaning,
that I am reminded of the simplest things in my life and how precious and
beautiful they are. I realize how much I love seeing the sunset and
sunrise and the ocean, and hearing the birds chirping (like this
morning when it was so cold outside), and the taste of hot tea, and the
smell of a roasting fire, and a vehicle that starts, and sunglasses, and
my children and family, and warm snow boots, etc. The list goes on and
on and on. Nothing else really matters and I don’t really give a sh**
anyways. It’s true, people…that’s what happens when you grow up: You don’t
give a crap! You know you’ll be okay, your eyes are opened and you see
that there is always something to be grateful for.



Sharen Wendy Robertson owns the copyright to all posts on this Blog.

Morning coffee with sunshine

     

I took a drive to the ocean this morning and then sat in my truck drinking my
DD coffee. I’m trying to fight a bad cold and cough so I thought that getting some fresh winter air
would kill some of the germs.  I rolled down the window and cranked the radio, which I had tuned to a classic rock station called, COOL 102. The song, Born To Be Wild, came on.  Yeah, I like that song.



Sharen Wendy Robertson owns the copyright to all posts on this Blog.