Yes, we can be. Be and be better. For they existed. This is the last line of a poem Maya Angelou wrote and, in my life, in my wilderness of grief, in my world I can be. I can also be and be better because Larry existed.
Years ago, I taught myself how to be strong and fiercely independent. There are people who saw me often at my worst and they would not think of me that way. They are wrong. I am strong, and I am resilient, and I can be (fiercely independent).
While we had an amazing partnership of souls in our marriage, we could also stand apart from each other and not implode, we just found it was better together.
Larry was not my rock. I am my rock. Yes, fissures would occur and then he would bring his concoction of super glue and mortar, maybe some duct tape, but the actual repair work was mine to do. He taught me emotional skills; he reinforced things I already knew how to do. He taught me it was okay to curse and to slam doors.
The biggest thing he taught me though was how good it felt to be deeply loved unconditionally and how capable I was to always fix my cracks alone.
Larry married a happy woman, and that is why everyday I work at showing him I am still happy. I know he understands that I do still cry. I cry because I miss him a lot. Then I see him standing in front of me with a roll of duct tape in his hand and I remember that Larry married a happy woman, and that is how he would want to think of me right now.