I heard it described to me that after a loved one dies, we see a white wall. The white wall represents all the good memories we had of that person. There may be some specks on the wall that represent their short comings, their faults, irritations. In this vast illustration, the specks are quite minimal; they may exist, but carry little value in what we choose to recall.
I have seen this white wall. I stare it often, actually. I see all the good I had in Shawn and all the good he gave me. I remember his weaknesses, but even those seem white to me, as I loved each part of him. I accepted him for who he was and believed in who he was becoming.
Around the corner of the white wall is a shadow. I find myself hiding in that shadow. I see myself. I see the real me. I stare at all the times I failed Shawn and wish for one more day to change things around. My own specks glare at me. I am reminded of the times I was disapproving, fussy, or unforgiving. This must be the punishment for the living. We are always more critical on ourselves than others.
The only thing that helps me as I sit in the middle of reprimand is to reverse the image and wonder what Shawn would see if I had been the one to die and he the one to live. I think he would see a white wall.
