Balanced

I wonder sometimes what those, who knew me before and after my husband’s death, think of me, if they think of me at all.  How do they see me?  Do they think I’m strong or broken?  Not always, but sometimes?  Maybe they don’t like this new me as much as the old me, when I was with him.  Do they wish I went away, not him?  Do they base what they think only on what I show them or are they greatly influenced by their own opinions? All that they think is filtered through their own eyes, because those are the only eyes available.  But what if they could see me, even for a very short time, with my eyes.  I would think it would, hope it would, make a difference.  From the Ending Song (the movie Ben-Hur): “If you could look inside my life, and use my eyes, would you pity me?”  You wouldn’t because I don’t feel sorry for myself.  Rather, I feel unbalanced.  I’m learning to take back some of the parts of me I gave willingly to him, entertaining the possibility of all, and to let go of the parts he willingly gave me, just enough to find my balance.

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