The morning of January 23rd my friend Angela called to say she wanted to wish Kalei a happy birthday ‘in person’. She asked me I would drive out to the cemetery with her. As I had nothing planned until the evening, I replied, “Sure, I would love to take you! What time should I pick you up?”
As we chatted about logistics, I realized this day might actually be the right time to deal with a crazy need-thought that had been nagging at me for the past month. For some reason, the idea that I should buy a headboard for my queen size bed would not leave me alone! While I did not want to shop for me on Kalei’s birthday — trust me, I was plenty annoyed with myself for even considering it — but the need was simply greater than the guilt.
So I said to Angela, “I know this might sound odd, but do you mind if we stop at a couple of furniture stores before we head out to the cemetery? I don’t know why, but I have to buy a headboard for my bed!” Without batting an eye, my supportive and always-look-on-the-bright-side friend replied, “Absolutely! Maybe our angel wants you to have something special to mark her birthday this year.”
After picking her up we headed toward the first store. When we found nothing, I said to Angela, “I don’t want to do this anymore! Let’s leave and go see Kalei.” We got in the car and headed in the direction of the cemetery.
On the way, we had to pass by another furniture store. I tried to drive right by, I really did. But…yup, you guessed it, that darn car turned into the parking lot…all by itself! Honest! With my friend looking at me with puzzlement, I said, “Angela, let’s just take a quick look. We won’t be long…just in and out, I promise. We just have to go inside!” Within two minutes, I found myself standing in front of a headboard that screamed, “I double dare you…just try and leave this store without me!”
For the longest time, I just stood staring at it. It was beautiful yes, but what stopped me in my tracks was the fact that it was attached to a really big bed. A king size bed! A myriad of thoughts ran through my mind…this is a foolish thing to do! I don’t need this darn headboard! I don’t even really want it! Besides, I have a queen mattress…what would I do with a king headboard? And then, I hate being here and I am very angry with whoever planted this me-need in my head. Kalei! You’re behind all this foolishness aren’t you? You might think you are being clever, but I am onto you! Young lady, you can me-need me all you, want but I am NOT going to open myself up to more hurt. No way, no how…I am shutting this finding love thing down right now! So there!
As I stood there, I let all those thoughts and more fly through my brain. The last time I had this kind of conversation with myself I ended up with the painting Cecelia by James Christianson. That lesson was a powerful one about faith. Is it possible that this was just another lesson? If it is, I have to ask, “Seriously God, with a headboard this time? Is that the best you can do?”
And then, “I know what you are up to. You want me to love again and you know darn well I am going to fight you on this. Well, putting the mother of all headboards in my face every day to give me a tangible reminder not to give up isn’t going to work! I don’t care what you want; I don’t want to be hurt anymore! Can you guarantee that won’t happen? Can you? Well, can you? I didn’t think so!”
Our one-sided conversation ended with, “Do you seriously think some silly piece of wood is enough to keep me trying?” Of course He did! He knows me much better than I know myself.
Right about the time I was ready to launch into a really cranky God conversation that I always regret later, I nudged my brain away from emotion dominated thinking into the far safer practical and clinical mode of thought.
I looked at Angela and said, “But this is a king size headboard — I have a queen size bed — it won’t work!” To which she answered, “Then buy the queen size.”
Right about then, the salesclerk chimed in, “The sale price only applies to the king size floor model in front of you.”
“Oh” was my non-committal (and less than shining example of critical thinking) response. I just stood there, my mind racing a hundred miles an hour as I pondered the otherworldly influence of purchasing a…yes…I am going to say it…a…sigh…headboard! Again I said to myself, “Seriously God?!?”
I did not realize how much time had passed until I looked up and realized the salesclerk had long since returned to her desk, and Angela, well, she had found a comfy chair to sit in while she waited for her seriously deranged friend to make a decision. She knew enough about me and my life to know there was a reason for my current angst and the best course of action was to just wait it out.
You see, since my daughter’s death there are only two rooms in the house I have only minimally changed — hers and mine. I see no reason to change anything in her room; I have lots of other bedrooms for guests to sleep in. Now my room, well that is a different story.
For the past 14 years I denied myself any personal change. I was single when Kalei died and I did everything in my power to keep it that way. No way, no how could I give myself permission to love again when my beautiful child could never, ever experience that joy. It seems that on this particular earth birthday, I was going to have to change that kind of thinking.
“Well” I said to Angela, “Perhaps, I should buy the king size. After all, I am supposed to be looking for my soul mate.” My exceedingly patient, but non-committal friend replied, “That makes sense.” But then, because I am convinced I am the most perverse and difficult person on the planet (and because there was still a little bit of I-am-not-going-to-do-it fight left in me) I said, “But what if my soul mate snores? Can I give him back?”
Still trying to be Switzerland, Angela responded with, “Then purchase the queen headboard silly!” And my perfectly logical response, “I don’t get it, how will that help with the snoring?” Without skipping a beat she said, “You will be sleeping in separate bedrooms so it won’t matter what size the bed is.” We both laughed — although I am pretty sure her mirth was a tad bit more sincere than mine.
While all of this might sound silly, the truth of the matter is I was negotiating with myself, about my future, in the middle of a furniture store…with a headboard!
You see, my child’s death broke my heart! While time has allowed a lot of scar tissue to form over many of the Kalei death wounds, grief had me placing — for lack of a better illustrative explanation — duct tape over the parts of my heart that are supposed to be able to handle normal life love and loss. I was simply too beaten down to risk it.
In the past few months my brain has been trying to tell me I am strong, I am ready and it is time, but my heart was apparently still not convinced I was ready (or even had the desire) to remove the duct tape. I believe my Sweetie Pie knew I was about to give up on the whole love idea before giving it a chance, which is why she (and I suspect God’s rather strong arm thrown in for good measure) sent that me-need feeling on her birthday. The little stinker knows I will never walk away from an ‘event day’ feeling because sometimes, just sometimes, they come with regular universe angel gifts!
Did I end up buying the headboard? Yes, yes I did! And, I am happy to say, it continues to serve the emotional purpose it was meant to do. And, just in case you nodded off and missed the whole point of this story, my new headboard stands as an emotional not physical reminder that I should not give up on love and that maybe, just maybe, there is something beautiful waiting for me around the next corner.
While I have made progress in leaps and bounds in staying true to my new quest, I would be lying if I said my headboard and the lesson that went with purchasing it, made everything hunky dory. Each and every day, as I open myself up more and more to the risk of being hurt, I have to work really hard at keeping my hands off of that darn duct tape.
Thank goodness I can look to the hero of my latest battle — which quite frankly is hard to miss as it takes up so much space in my bedroom — when I need a reminder to never give up.
