Sometimes I feel like I have nothing new to say or write about my grief or even about Boris. Like all of my grief thoughts have already been written. My sadness. My loneliness. My missing him. My regrets. My flashbacks of the trauma of his death. And then sometimes I feel like I have so much to say, but it is hard to get it written in words or organized enough to make sense to anyone. I feel sort of stuck and nothing feels different or meaningful.
The thing is, I never wanted my grief to change. In the first weeks and months when I would read or hear about someone else’s grief timeline and how things changed for them, I would think, I don’t want it to change. I want it to stay fresh and raw and terrible. I thought that if it changed it would mean that he was further away, and by being “less sad” all the time it would be like moving on from him.
So, yes, sometimes it feels like I have written and spoken all there is to say about my experience with Boris’s death and losing my partner and best friend. I know that there is always more, though, because I still think about him every day. His life and his death still shape everything I do and how I see the world. And, even the things that I have to say that feel repetitive or the same have changed over time. Even though I didn’t want that change to happen, it did. It is less raw and it does feel further away. Sometimes that is hard for me, and sometimes I am thankful that things feel less heavy. But, it is still just as terrible and just as sad as those first moments.
I am writing this because there are some weeks when I do not know what to write about, or writing feels daunting and exhausting. Sometimes I think what I have to say doesn’t really make sense or it won’t resonate, and I often feel like it is something I have already written about. But I still find it important to write and to express what has been going on for me, as things change and as things stay the same. Reading other people’s stories is what got me through those first months and first couple of years. And, those stories still carry me when I need it. We are all out there just figuring things out without our people.
I still have things to say because I am still living this life without Boris. He is still dead and I am still here left with the pieces.