Bliss and Fear

I don't know how many people actually read my blog.  But I am guessing that most that do may be suffering heartache from loss.  So this post may not be their favorite, or may give them hope.  Not sure.

I am as close to blissfully happy as I have been since losing John Preston.  My relationship with my husband, Jimmy Ray, is so good.  Probably the strongest, closest, most fun it's ever been.  I feel a little bit like a newlywed again.  I just enjoy being with him. 

It wasn't always like this.  It was the first 2 years probably.  Then we kind of got in a rut / routine that didn't include much communication.  Then I became friends with a girl that took advantage of my consistent naivety about the goodness of people, and almost ruined my marriage.  Once Jimmy Ray and I got rid of her (no she isn't buried in our backyard, just out of our lives) things got so much better.  I felt like a newlywed then. And in spite of, or because of John Preston, our marriage has gotten better every year.

For instance, on Saturday, we drove down to Coldwater, MS for their Trade Days.  It's just a big huge flea market.  We didn't buy much, see anything fantastic - but we just had the best time - watching people, looking at animals, smelling the 'fair' food, buying little stuff.  (Well he did buy an antique tow-man chain saw that is really cool).  It was just fun.  Period.

Along with this blissfulness does come some fear.  The last time I was this happy, which was when I found I was pregnant with John Preston, it didn't exactly have a happy ending.  So there is this part of me that gets fearful anytime I get happy.  If there is this high, then there must be a low to follow.  This could be a bad thing - and sometimes it is because I get so fearful that I can make myself sick with worry.

But I actually think it might be a mostly good thing.  I hope that losing John Preston has made me aware of how precious our time is here on earth.  I hope that I learn to appreciate Jimmy Ray more and more every day.  Death is inevitable, but I hope that when that time comes - whether it is his or my death, that I can look back and say "I didn't waste a single minute - every moment was precious to me."  It's a little cheesy, but recently I have been hearing a saying "Life isn't about the number of breaths you take, it's the moments that take your breath away".  Yes, a little cheesy, but a lot true.

I hope I live it.