Living forward is a tedious act. We live and we grieve… the two things are not exclusive of one another. Early on I did not understand this. I thought I had to find a “cure” for my grief. I have discovered that there isn’t such a thing. Grief exists because the love exists. And, like our love, our grief will remain in some capacity – forever. There is no other way for it to be. And, I am okay with this. I have to be.
Love Tears…
It is nearly four years since Mike died and yes I still cry, but now my recovery time is quick. The turn around between tears and living can be compared to the space between breaths. It is almost indistinguishable. The time between my tears falling and my life interrupting is fleeting at best. Tears fall and I don’t miss a beat anymore. I guess you could say that I have become very proficient at living with the grief.
My life, like every widowed person’s life, is a delicate balance between soul crushing missing and a both feeble and fierce attempt at living as normal of a life as possible. There, hidden among my regular routine life, is an ache that runs so deep inside me that if feels like it is not even separate from me.
My grief is part of who I am. And, really, my grief is not grief at all. It is love.
My tears are not necessarily tears of sadness, more accurately, they are love tears.
On the Cusp
I can feel change… I am on the cusp of a beautiful new life. After fumbling along the dim and rutted path of grief, I have finally come to a clearing. I have found my way out of the dark and I am standing on the edge of a peaceful place. A place that will lead me back to the light. I have a hunch that I am headed towards a wonderful life. A life I have desperately wanted to recreate since he died. I can actually feel a full and authentic life waiting for me just around the corner. It is calling out to me. I have been directionless for so long, but somehow I now know the way out. I will find my way out by instinct. I will follow my heart. I will travel by feel.
I feel like I am heading toward the homestretch. I have used up nearly all my reserve energy fighting my way back to life; and, now, I am on a type of natural high. And, I am going to make a break for it. I imagine myself sprinting toward the new life I sense waiting for me. I am madly running toward my new life. I am bolting towards the unknown like my life depends on it. And, in a very real way it does.
Where do I belong?
Life after the death of the person you love is weird. It is confusing. Mind numbing. Empty. Lacklustre. And, a bunch of other feelings and things. I’m sitting in my car typing this. I’m parked in the culdesac across from what used to be Mike’s house. Our house. The place where our little love story […]
Outlier
In about six weeks Mike will have been dead for four years. Wow. That seems like a fairly long time; and, at the same time, it feels like he was alive just moments ago. Death does strange things to time for those of us who are left behind. It is as though our clocks forever […]
Becoming…
There are qualities that I yearn to possess again. Things both tangible and otherwise. There are attributes both big and small that I miss about the woman I used to be. Namely, I miss her joy. I miss being joyful and joy filled. I miss being completely enamoured with my life. I miss being happy. I miss feeling content. I miss being at ease in my own life.
Mike brought to life all these things inside me; and, without him, I have not been able to successfully recreate any of this. After nearly four years, I have been unable to find my place in the world without him. I endlessly search for a sense of belonging. I work tirelessly to reestablish a feeling of contentment and I have been largely unsuccessful. All feelings of joy and peace that I have experienced since he died have been fleeting at best. *Sigh.
Yes, I miss him, but it is more than just missing Mike now. I miss what he brought to my life and who he brought out in me; and it bothers me that without him I seem unable to manufacture my own sense of happiness. I miss all that I was when I was his. I miss sharing my life with a man who utterly adored me. I miss being wildly and madly in love. I miss the all the richness Mike brought to my life. I miss the woman I was when he walked the Earth by my side. And, I hate that it is so ridiculously hard to live without some of the best things you ever had. But, I am doing it because I was not given a choice. We are all persisting and living forward because life demands that of us, but this sure is weighty stuff.
Look with your heart, not your eyes.
The first year I felt angry when I saw older people living when Mike was not. I felt that it was unfair that so many old people were alive while my fiancé died before our wedding. I felt guilty about my misplaced feelings of anger and resentment and jealousy. Mike was denied his old age, […]
A moment in the Evolution of Grief…
I paused because, for the briefest of moments, Mike died all over again .
Once upon a time, Mike had stood in this very same room.
He used to take up space in the world.
And, he had a place in our lives.
I miss this place in time when Mike was real.
I imagine I always will…
The Rebranding of a Life…
Life is for the living.
Mike had his life.
And, now I need to focus on mine.
Only he died in 2016.
It would be a tragedy if I buried myself too.
Empty Space
There is a giant void that lives in my chest. This isn’t a real thing; but, nonetheless, there seems to be a huge, heavy, invisible emptiness seems to take up all the room in my lungs. It feels like there is not enough space for air inside me. For the last 3.9 years my breath feels shallow. And, really, so does my life.
I am tired of being sad.
I am emotionally exhausted because I feel everything so deeply; and, also I feel nothing at the same time.
I am not sure which is worse.
Since Mike died, I feel every thing in color, but I am living in grey. I know that it is a tragedy to live like this, but I do not know how to change it. I just don’t feel joy anymore. Yes, I have fleeting moments of happiness; but nothing, not one damn thing has been lasting. I just can’t seem to find a way to remain tethered in the present moment long enough to experience genuine joy. I wonder if I will ever be capable of this again.
Open Arms
For me, my “grief work” is not so much about escaping grief (I know that is not possible); but, rather, it is about intentionally striving to reenter life. I am a Lover of Life. Each week I write to you, I am not writing about grief per sae. Nope. I am writing to you about LIFE. As a writer, I am encouraging you to live your best life. And, sure I know that it is easier said than done, but for me it is not optional because the alternative is far too bleak.
For three years, I steeped myself in my own grief. I became one with my grief; and, now, with nearly four years practice as Mike’s widow, I do not carry my grief in my arms anymore. My grief does not completely over take me any longer. My grief is still there, but it is not visible now. And, I assure you that this is big progress. I worked hard to get to this place.
Our Third Wedding Anniversary…
When I think about our Wedding Anniversary I feel a bunch of nothing really. Where there should be joy and happiness there is just a huge void. Where there should be happy memories of “the best day ever”, there is nothing. I have nothing to recall because our Wedding day never came to be. So, I just sit with the nothingness that it is. The nothingness of our special day quietly blends into the nothingness that Mike has become. It is sad. Beyond sad really. It is tragic and it hurts. But, I will be “okay”. I have lived through this Anniversary date twice before.