The Road Well-Traveled, Part IV

 We all walk the same road—it is the road of life.   I call it “The Road Well-Traveled” because everybody is traveling  it!  Everybody began the trek down this road when they first entered this life and the road ends when life ends.  Every person “grows up” walking this road.  Everyone grows old walking this road.  We all walk it together—this road of life.  The road takes us through valleys and shadows, into bright sunshine and joy, through deep waters, scorched plains and bountiful plains, and up mountains that seem impossible to scale.  The road takes us through all of this and more.

A common comfort given those on this road and facing its various obstacles is, “You are not alone.”  This is true.  We are not alone, even when we feel that we are.  Why?  Because everybody is walking this same road with us.  Everybody goes the same way we go.  Every person experiences the same valleys, shadows, sunshine and joy.  Every person passes through the deep waters; every person knows the scorched plain, the bountiful plain, and the unscalable mountain.  That is where the road goes and since everybody is walking this same road we cannot ever say we are alone in our pilgrimage.  Our brothers and sisters, wherever they live in this whole wide world, whatever the color of their skin, their gender, their religious convictions, their political bent, walk with us and we with them.  There is no way any of us can claim that we are alone on this road trip.

Almost six weeks ago my wife’s journey on this road well-traveled came to an end.  I like to think that she is now traveling a new and different road, perhaps a smoother and less stressful one.  I have often referred to our leaving the road well-traveled as a graduation from one worn-out road to a new one—similar to graduating from elementary school and moving on to high school.  

I am not alone in my grief on the road well-traveled.  Many of my brothers and sisters know, or have known, this same grief.  One week and a day after losing my beloved Cher, I received a call from my older brother.  His wife had died that morning.  “Grief compounded,” my daughter-in-law said.  Think of the road you are on and those traveling it with you. Think of all those who have suffered the loss of a loved one.  Think of the “grief compounded” during the past year of the Covid pandemic—not only here in the US, but around the globe.  Brothers and sisters everywhere are walking this road with you and me.