A Win & a Revelation

Dear John,

 

We did it. We beat Michigan. It was one of the best basketball games I've seen - close all the way, well-played, well-officiated, a nail-biter to the last part-of-a-second. The temperature reached the upper 50s today, but I left the windows closed - the neighbors would certainly have called the police because of all the yelling and screaming that went on here. We're in the Final Four, and will play Wisconsin on Saturday, on which day I will again have to be sure the windows are closed.

 

This morning I either realized something or finally admitted it to myself. I'm unhappy. I'm extremely unhappy. I've never been unhappy before. There have been things in my life that I didn't like - after all, I worked at The Hospital from Hell. But those have been things I was unhappy with. I've never been unhappy with my life before.

 

I realized this while we were singing the Beatitudes during communion this morning. Blessed are the poor, blessed are those who mourn - I had to drive my fingernail into my nailbeds to be able to keep singing. And I realized, right there in front of God and everybody, that I am terribly unhappy.

 

I don't have any experience at this. When I hated my job, I got another one. When my boyfriend was making me unhappy, I broke up with him. The unhappy things in my life have always been things that I could change or that would change by themselves as time passed. This is for the rest of my life. And so I wonder if I'll ever be happy again.

 

Don't worry about me. I can live like this if I have to. I've always valued contentment much more than happiness, and I value eternal life much more than this temporary life. I'm not worked up about the question. I just idly wonder if I'll ever be happy again. I guess I'll find out. I read back over the first year of letters to you, and found that things got very hard for me as I approached the first anniversary of your death. There is a precedent for my misery. I've made it another year since then, and I'll make another one.

 

This is your fault, you know. If you hadn't made me so happy, I wouldn't be so unhappy now without you. I used to worry sometimes that I'd been so happy and had never suffered. That problem has been rectified. I will be here as long as is necessary for the good of my soul. When I'm ready, I'll be released to come to you.

 

I did find one thing worthwhile that I'm doing now - if I weren't here, the animals would be split up. I know people that would take the dog and people that would take the cats, but nobody that would want all of them. So I'm still here so that my furbabies don't have to lose anymore loved ones. And that is okay, if I save them from further grief.

 

So there it is - my latest bit of self-understanding. I still feel like I'm groping for a foothold in quicksand, so everything I figure out about myself is helpful. You always said that you wanted me to be happy without you, and I always said, tough luck. The happy thing is that I know that you're waiting for me and we will be together again. As I realized as a child, pain is the inevitable price of love. It's worth it. You're worth it.

 

Love you,

Joan.