The Battle Between Spiritual vs. Physical Feelings

There is this constant battle going on between my spirit, and my body. It is a violent struggle, to determine which one will conquer the day, the hour, the moment. After Charles passed away, the way that I have felt has fluctuated, drastically, each and every day.

Death is not an easy thing to live through. Especially when half of your reason for life dies. All of my earthly and heavenly dreams, and hopes, and desires were connected directly to him. Everything I longed for and wanted out of life was with Charles. We were truly one, we still are, of course, but as time passes I feel that physical separation seeping into the caverns of my heart -- and it hurts. We have been together since I was 19 years old, I am now 34. I barley know myself without him. We became who we are together, and now, at least physically -- it is just me. 

I am left with myself, but the only "just me" I know is an 18 year old girl. That 18 year old mentality won't really work for me now, so I have to figure out who I am as I stand alone at age 34 (with 4 beautiful children). I have come to realize the very great impact that Charles has had on me in the time we had together. He has helped me become who I am. Moving forward from this point, I have been made a better person because of him. He will always be a part of me, and our children -- no matter what the future holds. We are van Ormer's forever. 

Sometimes my spirit is strong, and very willing to be grateful -- and even happy -- in my current circumstances. Sometimes I even shock myself at how happy I feel, and how content I can be in a given moment. But in painful contrast, the physical part of me aches, and cries, and longs to see Charles walk through the front door. I would love to look into his soft, brown, comforting eyes -- his were the only brown eyes in our house, now we are all blue. I long to hear him laugh his contagious laugh, and smile his charming smile. A hug and smooch from him would sure be nice... Well, that thought did it. I have to go get a tissue for my tears now… *Sniff*

Tonight my children danced around in a variety of Super-Hero costumes, in the backyard. I watched them as they played, and pretended to be their chosen hero. While they happily played, I cried. I had an achey-heart tonight. The physical stuff was winning, and tears were freely flowing. (It did not help that Sammi was playing "On my Own" from Les Mis.) 

Sometimes the spiritual part of me is stronger than the physical, and I can feel the effects of eternity, and knowing that this temporary separation is not the end -- it is just a brief mortal experience that I/we must pass through, until the REALLY amazing stuff comes. Sometimes the reality of eternity is like a blanket of hope that transcends and conquers  everything physical, where I feel no pain, or separation. I feel peace. 

But then there are other times when I am left to feel the intensity of the separation in its full weight, and magnitude. I felt that weight as I watched my sweet babies dancing around, carefree, and full of joy. My heart ached as I thought of carrying on into the future, having many similar backyard playing moments -- without a father in our home. The thought shook me to my core, and my core came leaking out my tear-ducts. 

Charles is with us spiritually -- he really is. We can all feel it in a powerful way. But I am the only physical parent left. And the reality is, that was not ever a part of my/our plan. We were supposed to grow old together, he was supposed to be there to see all of our children's concerts, and games, and accomplishments, and join-in the backyard super-hero time. He was supposed to be there, always, for me -- like he promised. (Yes, I know he is there… but it is not the same. ) The simple fact is that there is no amount of spiritual presence that can equal the physical presence, of the one you love the most. It is still something special having Charles with us spiritually -- but it is not the same. Not at all. 

So, tonight the weakness of my flesh won the battle, and I felt a little pain, and cried a bunch of tears. 

I know that many more tears will come. I also know that this experience is somehow -- in someway -- for my good. It does not always feel good… but it is always good for me to feel. 

And as Elder Uchtdorf so profoundly said… 

"The more we learn about the gospel of Jesus Christ, the more we realize that endings here in mortality are not endings at all. They are merely interruptions—temporary pauses that one day will seem small compared to the eternal joy awaiting the faithful." 

I, for one, look forward to the day when this "interruption" in my life, will seem small compared to the eternal joy that awaits… 

Until that day... let the tears fly!