Why Is This So Difficult?

Maybelle Crabtree here. For the past couple of weeks I have been trying to put together a post about rejuvenation for my Sabbath series. This week I finally wrote the rough draft. It was difficult and scattered. Even to me it wasn’t making sense. Finally, I threw my pen on the desk in frustration, got up from my chair, and muttered, “Why is this so difficult?”

After pacing the office for a few minutes I went downstairs. I’ll go back to it with fresh eyes, I reasoned, and everything will fall into place. So I made myself a mug of hot tea and scrolled through my social media account. The account has more posts from “sponsored” and “suggested for you” than anything from my hundred or so friends. But I still look once in a while.

I continued scrolling when my eyes caught a post that made me stop and read it. I grabbed my pencil and paper and wrote down the posted quote from a Nigerian wordsmith named Iya Ehime Ora.

Here is the quote: “You gotta resurrect the deep pain within you and give it a place to live that’s not within your body. Let it live in art. Let it live in writing. Let it live in music. Let it be devoured by building better connections. Your body is not a coffin for pain to be buried in. Put it somewhere else.”

It’s Not the Writing That’s Difficult

Then it dawned on me. It wasn’t the writing that was difficult, but what I was writing about. I have pain deep inside of me. For over a year, I have been stuffing it down, not wanting to deal with it. Now is the time for me to listen to my heart and write what’s there. That may be difficult because, overall, I am a very private person. I don’t like to show my vulnerability. But, like the quote says, I have to give my pain a place to live outside my body. That means putting it into words. Now is the time to begin. It’s the only way I can truly move forward. And maybe in the process I can help someone else.

So what’s in my heart right now? Pain, anger, confusion, and broken-heartedness mixed with a little guilt and a whole lot of love. Nothing can ever extinguish the love.

People say the first year is the hardest after a loved one dies. I guess they’ve never been around for the second year when the shock is gone; when there’s no more denial and reality smacks you in the face. I don’t know about anyone else but I remember the exact day that happened to me. It was Halloween of last year.

Halloween and Roses

Tom’s and my first date was on Halloween oh so many years ago. Back then, we worked at the same company. I was the office manager and he was a vice president in the accounting and finance department. It was a big company taking up a few floors in an office building and we barely ran into each other at all. From time to time though we ate lunch in the same break room. He was the only VP I know of who ate in a break room. I should have realized then how frugal he was but I didn’t. Instead, I was amazed that a person at his level would eat among us “common” people.

Anyway, we were eating lunch in the break room on Friday, October 30, chit chatting about Halloween. He told me about a costume party he was attending the next day at his friend’s house. After a couple of minutes, he blurted out, “Do you want to go with me?”

I almost chocked on the food in my mouth. “What?”

“I mean if you’re not busy. Just as a friend. Nothing else, really. Most of the people there will be paired up. It will be nice to finally take someone with me. Purely as friends, nothing more. Honest.”

How could I resist those puppy-dog eyes of his looking at me? “Okay,” I consented. I gave him my address and phone number wondering if this was really a good idea.

The Halloween Party

The next evening I opened my front door to see him dressed as Tony Manero from the movie Saturday Night Fever: white, polyester jacket, vest, and pants over a black button-down shirt with a wide collar. Gold chains hung around his neck and black platform shoes were on his feet. He was a sight to see. I suppressed a laugh.

“Hi,” he said, “this is for you.” He handed me a single yellow rose. “The yellow rose symbolizes friendship. Like I said, friends. Nothing more.”

I smiled, thanked him, and found a bud vase in my kitchen cabinet to place the rose in.

“I like your costume,” he said a few minutes later as we walked to his car.

Dressed as a tourist I wore a bright pink large floral muumuu and white, knee-hi socks with my sandals. A camera on a strap dangled around my neck while a wide-brim straw hat sat on my head and a huge straw tote bag loaded with paper maps and travel brochures adorned my shoulder.

“Believe it or not, this was all in my closet,” I confessed.

Once we arrived at the party, he immediately began to introduce me as his friend from work. However, as the night wore on and we talked, laughed, danced a little, and even toasted the beginning of a beautiful friendship with a cup of hot apple cider, something was beginning to ignite between the two of us.

More Halloweens, More Roses

By the next Halloween, I was working at a different company but we talked on the phone as often as our busy schedules would allow and met for dinner most Saturday nights. And Tom gave me two yellow roses: “For our mutual affection for each other.”

By our third Halloween together, Tom showed up with three yellow roses. Three mean I love you,” he stated as he knelt on one knee. “Will you marry me?” he asked, pulling a small ring box from his pants pocket.

No More Roses

Every year after that Tom brought home three yellow roses on Halloween. But then came last year. The last of the Trick-or-Treaters were long gone. I sat on the couch wondering what to do with the last of the Halloween candy. I glanced at the island counter where a bud vase with three roses usually sat. But was not. I wept. Tears gushed out of me like they did when I was told Tom was dead. Shock and denial dissipated. Reality surfaced. No more yellow roses on Halloween. Ever! It was almost too much to bear.

There were no tears this year. Sadness but no tears. I still looked for the bud vase on the counter. It’s a hard habit to break after over 30 years of seeing it there. But who knows. Maybe one year I won’t even think about it. Or maybe smile at the sweet memory of yesteryear.

Not So Difficult After All

So there you have it; a tiny exposure to what’s on my heart. It wasn’t that difficult at all! But this isn’t what I planned for this blog which was supposed to be light-hearted, funny, and once in a while a lesson learned. The intent has slightly changed temporarily. My hope is that you will continue this journey with me wherever the path may go.

Please leave me a comment down below and let’s discuss. Maybelle Crabtree signing off.