Who Am I...now?

Sitting in a coffee shop alone in Austin on a hot Sunday afternoon, I look around and know no one. It was suggested that I would enjoy the vibe at this establishment as it represents some of the true, funky character that permeates this city. Everyone, including all of the customers and staff, seems to have at least one tattoo, and I can pick out at least eight different ethnicities or nationalities among them. It’s a very Bohemian theme, also prevalent in a large percentage of the other businesses I have visited as well.

Last night, I went to the Elephant Room, a jazz club in a dark lounge with low ceilings located at the bottom of a slim staircase off to the side of the building, the kind of place you think of when you hear the words “jazz club.” Austin also happens to be the hometown of Lance Armstrong. I took my bike out for a ride this morning, and there were cyclists everywhere. With the low humidity, the 90 degree weather didn’t seem nearly as hot as the stifling Georgia summer that I left a few days ago, and I was very pleasantly surprised by the not-so-flat terrain. I never would have expected such an unpredictable ride in Texas, although I would later learn that this area is known as “Hill Country.” In speaking with a new acquaintance last night, I was told that Austin is a very non-judgmental town. I had pretty much gathered that much already, but spiritually speaking, she said that you can find whatever it is you’re looking for here. It was also recently voted the number one city in the country for young professionals as the economic crisis has really not had much of an impact, and apparently, it’s also not a bad place to be single. It’s a city with a great, eclectic vibe in the middle of Texas, and it seems to work well.

So far, I’m really enjoying my stay in and amongst the diverse culture, and music loving, artsy and creative, spiritual, tattooed cyclists. Needless to say, I fit in pretty well here.

I’m staying with Adam, mine and Shani’s roommate from the first apartment we shared together back in ’99 and ’00 in Chattanooga. The three of us only lived together for about 6 months or so, but we created the kind of friendship and connection that lasts a lifetime. Adam and I were doing a bit of reminiscing about that period time on my first night here, bringing up memories I hadn’t thought about in years. After looking back on mine and Shani’s early time together with someone who knew us from the very beginning, I couldn’t help but think about how much we all have changed over the years. It was also quite obvious how different I am now after the events of the last year. After sharing a few laughs, my thoughts came back to the present moment, and I looked at Adam and said, “I’m not the guy you knew then. None of us are after 10 years, I guess, but I’m just not the same, Adam. Not after losing Shani; I never will be.”

The 48 hours since that conversation have made that more apparent than ever.

I know that I’m not the same. I know that what happened has changed me forever. Of course it has. That’s evident on the surface. Anyone who knows my story can figure out that much. I was married, had a career and a home, and now I’m writing a book and learning to start over in the world after having experienced an unthinkable tragedy. But what this has done to the man that I WAS is a completely different story.

Exploring a new city with no reminders of my past is allowing me to gain a much clearer picture of the person that I have become. I am having nothing but brand new experiences as the person I am today, taking one step after another into a new life. Frankly, I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so comfortable with who I am as I do in this moment. I am alone and living. I am breathing deeply and walking tall.

I am away from the friends, family, and influences that I’ve so closely associated with my pain for the past 14 months. Without that blanket of protection, I am beginning to see exactly who I am in this world. I am meeting people willing to engage me simply as the man they are meeting, the man I have become as a result of my history, and not someone simply defined by it, and I am enjoying the new energy tremendously.

As I have been sitting here in this eclectic coffee shop, I remembered the blog that I posted a few weeks ago asking the question, “Who am I?” and I began thinking about my time with Shani and how I am accepting the parts of her that are now essential to my being, as well as how the events of the past year have contributed to molding the new “me.”

So now, who am I? I am a highly blessed and spiritual, loving man moving closer every day toward the understanding that I have very little control over much of anything other than how I choose to respond to what life throws my way. I am a survivor praying for the guidance to make the right decisions as I walk along my path. I am more fortunate than any man on earth because I was able to spend the 10 years that I did with Shani and to have had the opportunity to be a part of her healing process so that she could be my guide after losing her. I’ve been given a guardian angel who has stayed around long enough to see me through the darkest of times, and I have received an abundance of love from more sources than most people will ever know. And although much of who I am now is as a result of Shani’s death, I have also been given a gift in being able start my life over on so many different levels. Yes, I lost the love of my life. Yes I lost the woman that I thought I would spend the rest of my life with, and yes I lost a lot. But I have gained so much more.

In sharing our stories, I am finding that I have an experience that can help others, and I am literally witnessing my personal growth happen from the perspective of an observer. As I see others attempt to process my story and watch them go through their own immediate emotional rollercoaster in trying to make sense of it all, I am able to console them by sharing how truly blessed I am.

I am now a 36-year-old widower finding my way in the world without the woman who was truly my partner and soulmate. It’s a tag I will wear forever, not as a scarlet letter, but instead as a badge of courage. And while who I am to become is a story that has yet to be written, I realize that right now I’m actually a better man than I’ve ever been.