M is for more

I’m participating in the A to Z Blog Challenge throughout April.
Monday - something light to start the week. A bit of self-care, creativity challenge or the like.
Tuesday - telling notes for a specific story or kind of story. Tips and tricks to help you think about what you're telling and how.
Wednesday - my usual #tellinglife post, looking at some of the more personal aspects of storytelling and its role in my life.
Thursday - a dip into some of the issues facing contemporary storytelling or a dive into some of the more unusual applications of storytelling.
Friday - my usual personal post about life following the death of my husband
Saturday - the storytelling coach offers a tip you can use right now. An example of the kinds of tools I encourage my students to use.

Everyone who has lost a loved one knows the feeling.
I want more. It's not fair, there wasn't enough.
More.
Now.

I want more of Kevin's smile.
More of his laugh.
More of his touch.
More of the gasping breath.

I want more of Kevin's insight.
More of his scent.
More of his optimism.
More of his life.

More more more more.

Death is the cruelest thief. It steals not only the present but the future. It stole all of my more, leaving me only with memories and no way to build more future.

And yet.
And yet.

In his last days Kevin asked me to be okay. He told me he wanted me to live, to love, to thrive, all without him. He told me that he would always love me.

He wanted me to have more. More sweetness. More love. More life.

I won't. I can't have more Kevin. But there is more sweetness, more love, more life.

It isn't as easy as deciding to be okay, to look on the bright side. Anyone who tells you that is full of bull. But part of it is deciding to be willing to accept that more may be possible. It just won't be the same.

To do less would be to dishonor him.
To do less would be to reject what more he could give me.
To do less would be to lie to the world about the ongoing nature of love and life and hope.

There is more. It's just not the more I expected or ever would have wanted before I lost what I thought of as my future.

I want it now because I am living for two.
I want it now because it is in my nature to live. As it may be in yours.

There is more. It's just not the same. Nor should it be.

(c)2016 Laura S. Packer