Prior to G's death, I use to sit at my computer and write. Something drives me to do so now. I think a lot about how I use to love being in my study late in the night, when the house was quiet. G would be downstairs stretched out on the couch taking a power nap while the TV played his favorite show,"Gold Rush." I'd be working on my thoughts in my study, penning my small and obscure philosophies into digital space, recording life with all it's normalcy.
What I wouldn't give for normal now. How I long for the time when we'd turn off the computer, turn off the TV and climb into bed together. What I wouldn't give to go back to that. Life is always better together! And one thing I treasured is that G loved reading anything I wrote. He was like that. No matter what I did, he was always my number one fan. I miss that so much!
One thousand, six hundred, and fifty six days, that's how long I've been wishing I could just get up and have normal again. For 1.656 days I have been treading water, trying to keep my nose where I can get air. I've been searching, flailing away in a turbulent sea of emotions, grappling at pushing down every ounce of sadness that is always there. I'm always dealing with fear and panic. Life demands however, that I carry on with my fake, "I know what I'm doing" face, all the while grasping, kicking, clawing, and desperately hoping to find or figure out some form of new normal. Nothing ever feels right.
That's what they say, "You have to find a new normal." I'm not going to launch into any grumblings on how I don't want a new normal, on how that's the last thing in the universe I want, some new normal where I'm supposedly happy to live the rest of my life without the one person who loved me more than any human could. Who wants a new normal without that kind of love. Sure as hell not me! Insert any swear word you like here. That's what I think of finding this crappy thing called "A New Normal." One thing I've discovered is how people try to come up with ways to make being a widow a station in life you could somehow come to like. It's not ever going to happen.
Last night I climbed into bed and the tears started and I could not stop them. Shoulders heaving, pain searing every part of me, it was a long night. I always know the depth of my grief when I wake up with cold sores. Stress affects the body in so many ways.
This is the 5th year of grief. Oh wait, you thought it was going to go away. I do think I've learned to pack it in a less obvious way, but it's long from gone. I will live with it until I die. Most people don't recall how long it's really been. The loss is not fresh anymore, it's not new. It's lost its shock factor. It's really quite old to everyone but me, me and my family.
It will never be old to me. I will live a life of wishing, both for me, for my children, and for my grandchildren and every generation to come. Just one wish. . . bring him back!
There are some who believe that positive thinking and gratitude can get you through virtually anything in life. And in five years I have learned it's the only direction you can truly move in. And yet, all the gratitude in the world cannot erase the fact that my husband is dead. "His absence leaves a gaping hole in me the size and shape that is now permanently frayed into the fabric of every moment of my life now." ~Angela Miller
It's 1:02 am. It's officially my anniversary. 42 years ago today I made the most amazing and perfect decision of my life. I was even smart enough to seal the deal for eternity. Wow, am I ever glad I took out that spiritual insurance policy! I remember the day as if it were yesterday. Today I'll look back through every picture and I'll read every card celebrating my life's greatest choice. There is not a moment in time that is more beautiful than when our frames faced each other across the alter, kneeling there together, hands clasped, united in everything that mattered, both with our independent proclamation, "Yes." It is the blessing that precludes all blessings. And right now there is water cascading down my face and I can't tell you which tears are which. The tears from the intense ignitable hot searing pain of being alone and the tears from the all encompassing gratitude of sharing a love that death has no power over, they rush and spill out of me from the same place. Grief and Gratitude share the same space in me. And both produce intense emotion.
I guess that's what I want to say. Stop thinking it's one or the other. Many would have you think gratitude can cure grief. Or that somehow grief is expunged by gratitude. It's not gratitude OR grief. Gratitude can't cure grief, and grief doesn't negate gratitude. The fact that there is a mountain of grief in me doesn't make gratitude a smaller plane. And my mountain of gratitude does not diminish my grief in anyway. The two mountains coexist in me. They always will. Death has demanded they share the whole of me.
I read an article the other day and I am so grateful for her words. "I know now there is an art of holding infinite space for both grief and gratitude. And because this new life I didn't ask for is now a heartbreaking juxtaposition of contradictions. My heart holds both the blessing and the trial, the joy and the pain. . . "I am grateful and I am grieving." ~Angela Miller.
42 years. Oh how I miss him. No words adequately describe the unrelenting ache that accompanies the continual longing that weighs down on me. Wanting to hear his voice, touch his face, wrap my arms around his frame and squeeze till every ounce of strength is gone out of me. I miss his laugh, his soft green eyes that rolled and popped with life. I miss a million little things and a trillion big. But most of all I miss him here, physically present and bigger than life itself, because that's how he was, that's how his love was. . . bigger than life. And while I am grateful that love spans the gap between here and there, what I wouldn't give to just see it physically in front of me, sit with it, experience it, savor it right here, right now in the present, yes, just one more time.
Gratitude and Grief. After all this time I can see now they build upon each other. The more grateful I become, the deeper the pain grows in realizing what I must now live without. And the deeper the pain, the greater my mountain of gratitude stands before me for a love so full and abundant. And so it is, two mountains jetting up and out of me. And I wouldn't have it any other way. I would never trade one for the other.
Happy Anniversary honey! I love you more than I'll ever love anyone or anything. People tell me, I've got to move on. People say I've got to move forward. But thanks to a dear friend, I have learned, I am not moving on! I am not moving forward! I am moving TOWARD you! Everyday I am coming closer to you! And that is solace to my wounded soul. Thanks for always being the man of my dreams, both before death and now. You've always been the man of my dreams. You always will be! And thank you for reaching through heaven and continuing to hold my hand, walk by my side with so much love in the journey. You are amazing. Our love continues to grow. Together forever, me and you! I laugh at how you are so clever and you always find a way through to me! Like lockers F and G. and an empty chair always on the end. Every little thing you do is a big thing to me. And I love you for it! I love you so much, more today than yesterday, always more! Here's to a wonderful day of celebrating US! (Insert Big Green Heart!)
