Patterns of Things That Will Not Happen

It is the season to travel. For me, that means it is time to gaze out the window as I go up and down the roads with someone. 

Or as I hop on a bus or train to see what I can see. 

At times that means I will be looking for patterns of things that happen as well as what will not happen. 

What in the world does that mean? 

When traveling in years gone by it would mean that I would gather essential snacks like Sunny Delight, string cheese and stinky chips and throw them into a backpack. 

The books of choice, full of vacuums, would be picked up with long fingers and strong hands to have reading material along for the ride. 

I would buckle in our seatbelts, and we were off for a daytrip.

Along the way, we would see broad paths of bright green grass and cows scattered across the way, like they were polka dots creating their own patterns. 

Music and dancing in our seats led the way as our hands waved and signed to others in the cars that wove around us. 

It was the top level of kindness that came back each time when a wave was returned.

Pattern of things that were meant to happen.

This is when the patterns of things that were meant to happen were in flow with the world around us. 

Then it was as if the cows changed and became what you see on the multi-colored green expanse. 

They were no longer dotting along in a regular pattern now. It was as if they could tell my life had changed so they did, as well. 

The daytrips stopped and so did gathering books with a backpack full of snacks. 

Instead of knowing what was going to be around the bend it was as if my levels of loss came without having polka dots greet me from the green grass that was all around me. 

I now have a pattern of things that will not happen.

I now have a pattern of things that will not happen anymore.

Occasionally the day of travel with driving will come with other views and different meanings. 

If it was only the day trips that stopped then perhaps that would be enough, but there was a secondary loss that came when people said perplexing words to me. 

As I share one time this happened, consider your space and what your body is telling you to do. 

After our son passed away, one person mentioned that I was the lucky one. 

Lucky for you, they said, that you won’t need to go to all those places with him.

Think of what you’ll be able to do now, they said. 

What was I going to do without our son next to me? I wanted to ask the person.

Without the broad expanse of green and bright blue sky above me with him. 

I had found my pattern with him on the road.

I had found my polka dot pattern with him on the road, while in an appointment and waving to others. 

It was as if my feeling of loss were now disenfranchised even though it was not as clear and concise for others. 

Questions rolled up to me as I sat with the space.

Difficult ones that come in quiet times such as do people who say perplexing things to me know they are actually saying it out loud? 

Have they worked out the entire thought or question in their mind and heart first? 

Finally, is the person asking out of curiosity and kindness or because they feel that grief is to be fixed? 

When I sit with each space, I find that it is me who can become curious as the patterns of things that will not happen any longer change one more time. 

Here is what I now know. My body told me to pause, listen and be still each time. 

Then it told me to look up for the grand expanses while I took a breath, looking for what was still there alongside all the changes. 

Could I withstand the words that were being said? Yes, when I see the patterns that pop up again and again. 

Find what your body is telling you and let’s go on with kindness.