It Goes On

In three words, I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life. It goes on. – Robert Frost

Two weeks after Doug died, we attended a family wedding in another state. As we were no strangers to road trips, we packed the car, as we had done for so many summer vacations and Christmases past. We stopped at a favorite spot for outdoor cheeseburgers and frozen treats. To the casual observer, nothing would have indicated the rawness we felt because of our loss.

We could have declined. It would have been easily understood. But we knew we needed to be near family, even though we had been in their company a short time before. Besides, how could we miss the chance to witness and celebrate love and a new beginning? So we drove. The kids danced into the night outdoors after a summer storm. We took comfort in long conversations and warm hugs. You could not deny the joy, and we were better for it.

We continued our road trip after the wedding for a few quiet days on Lake Michigan. Every night, the sun dipped below the water’s edge with gentle ease. I wished we could have stayed, silhouetted and protected, even as I knew we needed to move forward. As Robert Frost remarked on his 80^th birthday, life goes on. It goes on, even without the physical presence of those we have loved and lost. But how? That was still an unanswered question.

I still wish they were all here, packing the car for road trips, enjoying the company of family, watching the sun disappear beyond the lake’s edge. But life has gone on, through ordinary moments and hard ones, through small joys and milestone accomplishments, through a move, and even through a pandemic.

We are slowly learning to carry our memories as we make new ones. I like to think they are helping, so we don’t miss the stubborn beauty in the now or the promise of what is yet to be. And I am ever so grateful.