Quite frequently these days, as I begin my 3rd year without him, I find this particular quote sent to me, or posted on my timeline. Grief is a stage through which we pass and not a place to linger. Okay, I get that. I even agree with it. But it doesn’t help me a damn bit to read it. We are told that grief is an individual process with no…
widowed struggling
Here and Not. Me and Not.
I know I’m not actually a split personality. I haven’t disassociated from my body. There is nothing really wrong with me because what I’m going through is normal. I know this. This grief, though. Whoa. My brain sometimes slips into my consciousness the suspicion that maybe I am a split personality. Or whatever word it is that would…
This Point
I reached a point in these last few days. I need to stop looking (albeit unconsciously) for this sharp cutting edge of grief in my body to stop. I need to stop looking for that elusive something that will take it away. Cut it away as carefully as a surgeon’s knife, leaving my body and heart as intact as it was for my 24 years with him.