“Sometimes you just have to get wet.”

As I move through the process of grief, I have found humor to be a necessary component.

If you have ever seen the movie, “Elizabethtown,” with Orlando Bloom, Kirsten Dunst and Susan Sarandon, you can appreciate what I am talking about. Susan Sarandon loses her husband and is desperately trying out new things to help compensate the loss. She learns to fix the car, the toilet and learns to “tap dance” among other things.

I have found myself in the throes of what Susan Sarandon’s character experiences. In the first two weeks after my husband’s death, his truck wouldn’t start, the lawnmower wouldn’t start and a mouse (or rat) the size of a small dog, took up residency in the garage. I remember coming to tears, my heart beating fast and my knees going weak. I remember thinking, “Great!” “What next?”  I also thought, “You have got to let things go, Ginny.” “Everything will be alright.”

About 20 minutes after that statement, I hear a lawnmower, my wonderful neighbor is mowing my yard, my boss texts me to let me know she and her husband are going to help with my husband’s truck and my dog comes running up to me from outside and as I look down, drops the mouse at my feet. Thank God for divine intervention!

I have to tell you though it has been an effort learning to dance in the rain. It’s not easy as those emotional downpours hit. While I feel for the most part I am an independent woman, there was so much physical and unspoken support I forget I had.

Our AC and heating system had been giving us a little trouble and required a few small repairs, nothing major however until this last week when another problem occurred. It was one of those problems that could go either way and a decision was needed. One of the considerations was also the cost. What was the best decision?

After two nights of restless sleep, and doing numerous Google searches for trouble shooting, I felt exhausted and broke down in tears. This breakdown was not about making a decision on an air conditioner as much as it was about not having my partner and support here with me. My thoughts turned to the “what-if” scenarios of a bleak future.

However, as I sit here today with my new system running beautifully with its latest technology, I feel stronger. I made the right decision.

Dancing in the rain will continue to make me stronger and appreciate the beauty of the new “me” that is emerging. My sweet husband is a part of me still and will always be, but I know I will survive on my own as each beautiful hurdle teaches me something new about myself.