This will be my fourth Christmas without him. We only shared one Christmas together so, why does Mike’s absence weigh so heavy on me when I have lived most of my life without him? Well, there are many reasons outliving Mike is hard; there are just too many things to mention. And, really, it is the intangible things that are hardest to live without. What it really comes down to is that I love him deeply; and, living without the person you are so in love with is awfully difficult.
Simply put, I miss Mike and I want him back. I want to finish living the life we thought we’d share together. And, I know full well that I can’t have this. Sunday, I stood above his grave. Physically, I saw the markers of his deadness. My hands touched his headstone. My eyes read his name carved into the stone. My lips kissed the cold stone. As I stood to leave, I whispered I love you to my dead fiance. He didn’t answer back because he couldn’t. I get it. I know that Mike is gone from here. Still, despite what I understand, I continuously think about living a life that does not and can not exist. This is the quandary of my widowhood.
I need to create these make believe thoughts less frequently. My mind needs more space for the here and now stuff. I need to remain grounded in the present, but I just don’t know how to accomplish this. I am in my fourth year of widowhood and I still have not found a way to keep my mind tethered in the moment I am experiencing.
I feel his absence in my psyche. Mike was my person and now I wander through life while part of my Soul is elsewhere. My goal is to become more present in my life. I want to hold steady here in the world where I physically exist. I need to engage in my life more fully. I deserve to live a good life; and, my boys deserve their Mother back. The gift of presence is the present I wish to give my boys this Christmas.
Godspeed to me and to you as we learn to live forward and be present in our lives,
~S.
I wrote this December 9, 2019.
Here is the update:
A year later, I am more tethered to the present. I am very thankful about this. My growth from last year to this year is yet another example of the evolution of grief. If I had not reread my blog from 2019, I would not have recognized the progress I have made this last year.
Grief evolves in large part because life continues… Somehow, I have managed to reclaim more of my life this last year. I own my thoughts more now that my ruminating about Mike has become less frequent. Still, tender thoughts of Mike drift in and out of my mind all day long; but, now they are less intrusive. With another year of widowhood under my belt, the thoughts I have about Mike are now quieter.
Now, my thoughts of him are like sweet kisses on the back of my neck. Caresses on the neck are intimate in a lovely and gentle way. And, yes, I am aware that sometimes these innocent kisses can lead to more; but mostly they are tender reminders that you are loved. My memories of Mike have taken on the feel of neck kisses now. Like neck caresses, my memories of him don’t necessarily lead anywhere in particular. They are just gentle reminders of our love. My thoughts of Mike are no longer dramatic and all consuming. My memories of Mike are simply there. And, thankfully, these thoughts don’t take up all my focus anymore. With less rumination, I have gotten more of my life back. To say I am grateful for this is an understatement.
As I enter my fifth holiday season without Mike, my grief is softer.
My thoughts of Mike are gentler. My memories are tender and sweet.
Without a doubt, this is a preferable and easier way to live.
With practice, being Mike’s widow is becoming less consuming. I am steadily rebuilding a good life around my grief. And, this holiday, like everyday, I am focussing on the love, not simply the loss.
The woman who wrote these words last year has come a long way. I am proud of her and so is Mike.
~Staci
