Friday, January 7, 2011

Grief is the Journey You'd Rather Not be on...

We know little to nothing about death and grief in this country.  We are totally sheltered from it, and because of that, I think we suffer more when we lose someone.  I'm not certain that anyone can be told ahead of time how hard that journey is or whether it would make any difference.  I only know that it is the hardest journey I have ever been on.  In the last year and a half, there have been moments of sadness, joy, anger, laughter, and drop-to-the-floor agonizing pain and loneliness.  And you never know from day to day what you will feel like.  The first year was hard, but the second year has been worse.  You wander through the first year pretty numb, getting through all of those "firsts" - first Christmas, first anniversary, first Father's Day - without him.  Everyone is there to hold you up and help you -- which is amazing and for which I am forever grateful.  But the second year, when everyone (rightfully so) has got to get on with their lives, the second year is worse.  It is the year when I realized that "reality is real".  The loss, loneliness, and pain just seems to wash over you in waves and it hurts - damn bad!

I mistakenly thought that after a year, I would have been through everything, all of those Grief Steps I've been told about, and could move on with my life.  Well, that's a big, fat crock!  How do you get over losing your best friend, your lover, you soulmate, your life?  You don't.  In the beginning, you just exist.  Then you begin to exist without him.  Then you begin to think about living again.  That is where I am right now.  I AM looking forward.  Trying to figure out how to begin again having survived the loss of my life, life as I knew it, when he died.

I am better, and I am going to survive this.  I can still laugh, I still enjoy my life, although greatly altered now, and I want happiness in my life.  I don't want this blog to be so depressing that no one will want to be here.  I just want people to know that there is life after death if you are willing to feel everything and go through all of the steps.  I wrote the following just four months into my grief, but in many ways, it's more true now than then.

The Rise and Fall of Grief

Rise and fall, like your chest with each breath
Like the ocean waves cresting and breaking
The emotional peaks of depression and elation
rule your life and your dreams.
Time slows to a crawl while you pick up the
pieces of your heart, wrenched from your body
by the flatline of your lover’s life.
Unimaginable pain that must be endured.
And then one day, you smile or laugh and
you don’t feel guilty for staying behind.
Glimpses of your life return slowly and
time begins to move again.
What is this life without your lover?
The shrine you have built is not enough.
You must take a step forward and fall back
into the arms of those left behind.
Strength begins to return, and one day you say
I’m fine, and are surprised to hear yourself say it.
But you aren’t fine, and you know it.
Loneliness looms like a dark cloud threatening
to overtake you while you run home and hide
in your bed, welcoming that fetal stance you are
now so familiar with.
But you say NO, this is not my life and my
lover would not want this for me. 
I do not want this for me! 
But I’m confused and don’t know what I want for me.
Perhaps more time, more moments of pain and joy
to finally set the course of my life.
Light at the end of the tunnel?
Too far away to see more than a pinpoint.
But it’s there, and I just have to keep walking.

Allways always,

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