What Is Happy?

About 10 days ago, a former colleague of mine suggested I check out a blog written by a young woman in New York City. Tre Miller-Rodriguez unexpectedly lost her husband last year and is writing a book about her experience. I was obviously intrigued by the subject matter, so I checked it out right away and was immediately drawn in by it.

Tre is an excellent writer with a unique, engaging style, and her story has resonated with me on many levels and in a way that I suspect could only happen with someone who has lost their spouse suddenly or tragically. I have not met any people in their thirties who are in a situation like ours, so to connect with someone like Tre, who is sharing her story with the world, has been wonderful. She and I have communicated back and forth via email, and I am blessed to have found her.

During an email exchange with her last week, I shared that I was having trouble writing. I stated that I needed to find something to make me miserable where I could write a blog worthy of posting. She responded immediately.

“You have to be completely miserable to write?” she wrote. “Really? Are there no happy moments that inspire you?”

I wrote back that maybe “miserable” was a little over-the-top, but in all honesty, writing from a place of joy had become completely foreign to me. I felt that in my day-to-day experiences I really didn’t know what “happy” was anymore. Sure, I have had moments over the last year that have made me laugh, and I’ve shared plenty of stories about the good times Shani and I had together, but really, I no longer knew what it meant to be truly “happy.” Whenever I had experienced a moment of what could be described as “happy,” I inevitably came crashing down. As a result, I have become extremely guarded in allowing myself to be light-hearted at all. Everything has been “heavy.”

So, up to this point, in order to write, I have needed to listen to music that might take me to a place of grief or loss in order to get centered. I have only been able to write from the heart after scraping away the façade I create just to get through the day. I have yet to feel that I could rely on my surface level emotions, because even if I thought that I was okay, I knew it couldn’t be trusted. The only real place that I have known is pain.

I have come to realize that for the longest time I have been completely caught up in the trauma of the events surrounding Shani’s death—how she was killed and all the circumstances surrounding her murder. As a result, only recently have I had the opportunity to grieve over her truly being gone. It has only been in the last month or so that I’ve really been able to begin to absorb the fact that she’s not coming back and see how I have been unable to expose my broken heart for simply having lost my wife.

Obviously, though, in what Tre was saying, she is able to write from a different “room,” which is how she described it. I wonder if I will ever be able to do the same.

Interestingly, I also got bombarded that day by a number of other conversations with people who have experienced tragedies of their own. Knowing I was in a rough place, they all shared with me about what they were grateful for in their lives. One after another, the messages just kept coming. The universe was trying to tell me something.

I’ve done a lot of thinking about that day. and what I’ve come to realize is that in order to find happiness, I’ve got to let go of the toxic energy holding me back. I must find gratitude for not only the beauty that I have in my life now, but also the great times I was so fortunate to share with Shani. Of course, I have healed tremendously thus far, but here I was standing in front of yet another door I must walk through. I have to let go of what has me so stuck. It’s the only way to move forward, but I also realize I have to WANT to move forward. I have to be willing to take the risk of falling if I’m ever going to fly.

Over these last few days, I’ve begun to find a new peace. The responses I’ve gotten from what I’ve written so far in this blog have been nothing short of humbling. What I’m beginning to now realize is that my complete focus to this point has been on merely surviving, but I’m reaching the point where that is shifting to a desire to thrive instead of just survive. It is beginning to seem more and more like a probability than just a possibility. I’ve held on to hope, but now it’s more than just a word; it’s a legitimate feeling.

Whatever life has in store for me, I now know that in all of this darkness, the light has always been there, and it’s not at the end of a proverbial tunnel. Instead I believe it comes from the time Shani and I spent together and the intimacy that we shared. It comes from her smile and unforgettable dimples; her distinct laugh and the accompanying snorts when she really let it go. It comes from our tattooed wedding bands and how she always felt the desire to place them side by side, regardless of the social situation, showing them to people and joking, “See? S and M. S and M. Get it?” God, she used to embarrass me with that one.

The light has always been with me and always will be. All I have to do is to think of her and the joy that she brought me, and the light is right next to me, holding my hand all the way.

And today, for the first time, I’m writing with a smile on my face. I am happy.

Tre’s blog and information about her book can be seen at:

CLICK HERE TO VISIT TRE'S BLOG