Recently, I purchased a VR headset to go with my new phone. I wanted to experience the excitement of virtual reality that people keep talking about. I have to say, my favorite app is YouTube because people can post 360 degree videos now. You can be anywhere in the world and the only senses that are missing out are touch, taste, and smell. (Hmmm, smellavision, anyone?) 

Last night, I entered the 360 world on YouTube and decided to begin with a dolphin video. I was floating at the bottom of clear, bright blue water and all of a sudden, a pod of dolphins began swimming toward me and then continued to play around me. I began to cry uncontrollably. Imagine me sitting on my bed with a big mask strapped to my face, stretching my arms out to nothing and sobbing like a baby. I’m sure it was quite a sight. I then continued my adventure to a field of elephants and, not surprisingly, began crying again as the elephants stretched their trunks out toward me. It was so incredible, heartwarming, and beautiful.

I think we tend to forget how beautiful the world really is when we are in our isolating, dark caves of grief. At one point recently, I was crying to God to allow me to die too so I could just finish this life already. It seems pointless without Chris most days. I was questioning my purpose now that I have lost him. Really though, what is my purpose now? My purpose was to love and care for my husband. It was to build a life with Chris and serve God through the love and partnership we shared. Now I feel like I have no purpose. I’m just floating on, untethered and unemployed, sad and confused. Experiencing what I did in virtual reality at least reminded me of what this world can bring. The beauty that it really is and the hope that it shares. I obviously still don’t know my new purpose, but I am feeling a little less morbid and pessimistic. I know Chris is with God, safe and sound, and he would want me to live out my days here in the most loving, incredible ways I can. He loved the beauty of this world and found so much joy in exploring it and experiencing what he had the means to. I want him to be proud of me as I move forward and seek joy again. For now, I take it day by day, feeling, smelling, tasting, seeing, hearing, wholly experiencing what I can. Perhaps my new path will present itself when I am finally at peace with this world again. I’m still here. I am present.