For many of us, the idea of moving forward—of creating a new life—seems somewhat alien, I know. I think most of us feel this life has been thrust upon us, and we have no choice but to carry on. But I disagree. I think it is a mistake to think this way. I know that after maybe three or four months into my widowhood, I wanted to completely change my life and how I had previously lived.
So now, I feel as though the sun has set on my old life; and I begin anew.
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.
In an odd way, I’m beginning to look back at this difficult year and the chaos it has brought with some gratitude. I am, at least now, mindful that this year has stolen things from me that I can never have back. It has caused new pain I didn’t see coming. It has killed dreams and forced me to rebuild them anew. It has required sacrifices I never imagined. It has also pushed me to be more creative, more focused, more trusting, and more loving.
I have done a lot of work on myself over the last two years since Suzanne died. This morning, I had a revelation.
My attention has still been scattered. The revelation came when listening to a podcast about brain science. It dawned on me that I must apply my attention to what has become most important to me. This means placing it on activities and relationships that serve me—and not just what I “think” I need to place my attention and focus on.
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.
In the last two years, I have made some seriously life altering choices. Originally, I was going to call this post “Bad Decisions”… But “Accepting Choices” actually seems more appropriate.
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.
More and more we are seeing focus on self-growth, motivation, manifestation and talk of mindset. I get the premise and I try to practice the mentality. Yes it can change your day around if you focus on the positive but there are limits. I have to share this topic with you all so you understand […]
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 […]
Over the last two years, I have found that on numerous occasions, I have “bitten off a lot more than I can chew.” It has been extremely difficult to chew on some of the things I have chosen to do—mostly to distract myself from my grief—which makes it even harder to swallow. No more. Things are starting to give, and I have started to learn the power of saying “no” to things (especially those that are distracting me from my grief and my feelings)… Unfortunately, I’m still a novice.
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 […]
Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash One of the phrases that I hear, and that I use myself, in my still new, post-loss world, is “this life of after”. It’s a phrase that gets used a lot in the COVID context too. “After COVID…” or “When COVID is over…” And of course, some people are […]
