The Purple Heart

Before meeting up with Blake's family to spend our anniversary with them, my mom went with me to visit the cemetery. I showed her Blake's grave and excitedly pointed out the blue heart I'd told her about. But right away I noticed that the heart wasn't blue anymore. The blue heart-shaped sea glass that I glued to his headstone had turned this weird, light purple color.

At first I was mad. The heart used to be a gorgeous shade of sapphire blue, just like Blake's birth stone and the little hearts I've been using on all of my posts. I even bought a ring and a necklace to wear that have blue heart stones in honor of that heart. Now that the heart is purple, I felt like all of this perfect symbolism was completely ruined!

My mom was actually smiling about it turning purple. When I asked her why she thought it was a good thing, she explained that she saw symbolism in the new color. My mom pointed out that purple is the color that you get when you mix red and blue together. What was once a deep, red, and passionate love was colored blue by the sorrow and sadness of loss. Maybe the heart turning purple reflected my own heart. Maybe I was finally learning how to combine those two colors to create a new kind of love. Not only romantic love or love in mourning, but a love that is perfectly both at the same time. She left me with those thoughts and retuned to the car to give me alone time with Blake. I kissed the purple heart with a new found respect for it, thanks to my mother's words.

When I woke up this morning, I started thinking about the purple heart again. I loved the explanation my mom gave for it, but felt the urge to dig even deeper.

Suddenly, I knew. A month ago, after reading my post about the symbolism of the blue heart, a woman close to Blake explained to me the spiritual significance of blue. She suggested I look up the seven chakras and their color counterparts.

What I found was that blue means communication and self-expression. Perhaps the blue heart coming to me was a sign to focus of these things. I've tried to do this by connecting with others who are grieving and keeping up with this blog. In the progression of the chakras, the color purple comes after blue. This is a transition into intuition and wisdom, acknowledging perception beyond ordinary sight. Maybe the heart that first came to me as blue was now trying to mirror my progress by transforming to purple.

With the added focus on the spiritual symbolism of purple (along with my mom's explanation of the color), I now feel like my interpretation of the purple heart is whole. My heart doesn't need to be blue anymore because I've learned so much about death, loss, and sadness in general. I've come to understand that I'm connected to every person and every thing, near or far, past or present. I've grown so much through my grief that now I'm able to see the world in a completely different way. A way that acknowledges the limitations of ordinary sight.

More Than Enough

When Blake first met my mom and dad I was SO nervous. I honestly didn't know what they would think about him. I wasn't sure if they'd like him and was afraid they wouldn't believe he was good enough for me. After introducing my parents to too many of the wrong guys, I felt extra pressure to make sure they knew he wasn't just another one of them. 

Before we went to meet them, I was extremely anxious. I started telling Blake what to say and what not to say. Talk to my dad about computers, you'll have so much in common. Tell my mom about starting your own business, she did too. Don't talk about religion. Or politics. Or anything about rehab. Blake handled my obnoxious nagging well for the first several minutes, but eventually called me out for it. He said he was excited to meet my parents because if they were like me, they would get along great. To him, it was that simple. Then he told me it was sad that I wasn't more confident in him.

Reflecting back upon our relationship, I know I had my doubts about Blake. He had all of these incredible business ideas, but lacked the discipline to really build on them. Money seemed to always slip through his fingers. And he was constantly taking risks, making mistakes, and assuming that somehow his messes would get cleaned up by someone else. But although I had my uncertainties about Blake, I also knew that I was completely in love with him. 

And this love for him has only gotten stronger. Through stories from his friends, bonding with his family, and really taking in the lessons he taught me, I have a more complete view of Blake. I see what a light he was to so many people, the widespread impact he had, and how he truly balanced me out as a partner. The more I discover about Blake through connecting with people and looking inside myself, the more my confidence in him grows. 

Lately, and especially tonight, I feel guilty because I wish Blake experienced me feeling this unshakably secure about him while he was still alive. I've been beating myself up questioning if he ever believed he was good enough for me or truly believed that I thought he was. In spite of all of my nagging, critiques, and judging, did he actually know? I wonder how many times he looked into my eyes and saw what an incredible man I viewed his as. That although I had my doubts, I never forgot how lucky I was to have found him and how much better my life was because of his love. 

I just want him to know he is enough. More than enough.

I should have told him that every day. 

Create Your Own Signs

Sometimes (most of the time) my mom ends up telling me the exact answer I need to hear before I even know what the question is. Do all moms have this magical power or is mine just even more amazing than I already thought? I'm thinking it's both.

We got into a conversation tonight (the messages are split up into three sections, forgive me if the formatting is confusing) about what I want moving forward. Do I want to learn how to connect and talk to Blake? Or do I want to distance myself so I can start moving forward? I am struggling to pick because choosing seems impossible. But at the same time, having it both ways seems like an inherent contradiction.

After my mom suggested I look up how to contact people who've passed away, I tried to explain to her that I'm not sure if that is what I want. I don't necessarily have things I want to say to Blake or things I need to hear him say, I just have a desire to know he's always there. Especially in my weakest moments, I want to have confirmation that he's looking out for me.

She responded by telling me that I already know Blake is watching over me and I need to be secure with that. I don't need continual reminders.

I pushed back a bit and insisted that constant reassurance is what I crave. Maybe I second guess his presence so much that I need those outward signs to remind me. Maybe if I have proof that he's watching over me, I can focus on other things. If I don't have to question that he's always going to be there, I can move forward.

This is where my mom employed some tough love. Basically I was sounding like a needy, insecure girlfriend. When Blake was alive, did I ask him to tell me he loves me all the time and assure me that he was there for me? Of course not. First of all, that would've been extremely annoying and self-conscious. Second of all, it wasn't necessary. When Blake was alive I never questioned his love for me. I always knew that no matter what he would be there for me, comfort me, stand by me, and support me. Why would it be any different now?

    It isn't.

Probably the most profound part of our conversation came in the final part. This was one of those pearls of wisdom that my mom gave me before I even knew I was asking for it. Even now I'm kind of in awe of her insight. When I explained that maybe I just like getting signs because receiving them makes me feel good and renews my faith our connection, she simply told me "Give them to yourself."

Give them to yourself? Can you even do that?
Yes. Absolutely, one hundred and fifty percent, yes.

Although these are not the grand signs like finding the blue heart-shaped sea glass or an old email popping up on my computer screen out of no where, these kind of signs are just as important. The signs I give myself might actually be more important because they come from within my own heart.

There is a confidence in our love that dwells inside of me. It is so strong that it could sustain me even if I never get another sign from Blake again. This belief doesn't need the validation of anyone else because to me, it is as indisputable as fact. If I can tap into that internal truth and bring it out, I create conviction in Blake's presence that won't disappear. Distance, time, and the doubt of others won't affect my certainty that Blake is with me. That's what it means to be self-sufficient. That's what it means to create your own signs.