Ever since that horrible day 4 years ago, I have been shoved into every imaginable situation of discomfort. Just like all of you. I’ve been thrust into an oblivion… a war zone of emotions… trying to fight my way through without even knowing which direction I am fighting towards. Fighting in the dark. Wandering. Scared. Trying to survive. Trying to figure out just what it is that I am actually fighting for. Trying to understand what is even worth it in this life, so that I can want to still be here.
The thing about all this, is that it changed me. All this struggle, all this fight to find reasons to be here, to still find the beauty in life, has changed me.
I’ve said it before, but his death taught me that fear is not a good enough reason anymore. He died in order to live his dreams as a helicopter pilot. He knew the risks, we both did… and he chose it anyway. You would think I would be mad about that (and I certainly went through a period of being really pissed that he didn’t have a more boring “safe” job). Instead, it is like his forever reminder to me to not let my fear get in the way.
If he could be willing to risk his life for what he loved doing, than I choose to honor him by trying to always do the same. So while my fears may still be there, I keep choosing to step outside my comfort zones and walk through the uncomfortable spaces. I’ve started to see that beauty and wonder are always just on the other side of fear. A recent experience has reminded me of that...
Tomorrow is my husband's third anniversary. And, like so much of this third year, the lead up has felt very different to the previous two. So much so, in fact, that it started to scare me as I've been wondering if something is wrong with me, or if I'd slipped back into some kind of state of shock.
Even now, I'm struggling to find the words to explain how this feels different and how I've been trying to make sense of what this means to me. I've had some moments of sadness this week, along with the tears that choke their way to the surface and can't be held back.
The sadness has come on during times when I've thought about what my husband was going through in these days leading up to his death. When I think about the darkness of his depression and the torment he must have been struggling with. It hurts my heart to know that someone I love was battling with something so catastrophic - to know he will lose that fight and miss out on the full life that was ahead of him.
I feel sadness that the world lost such a beautiful soul. That his friends and family are missing out on sharing their lives with this wonderful man. He was a special person and so very loved.
Lately, I feel as if there are no more words left in the universe to properly describe how I feel. The words and phrases just don't exist, or I've already described them multiple times, or I'm tired of describing them, or it's repetitive and nobody wants to hear about it anymore anyway, or it's just incredibly exhausting to constantly try and explain this grief crap. To explain WHAT THIS IS, and how its just ALWAYS there. Always, always, always.
Even when you think it isn't there anymore, or you think: "Wow. I have done so much progressing!" Or your life feels happy or joyful for awhile, or something new happens or comes upon you and its a nice thing. Still, even then, that thing .... that thing of grief that I no longer know how to describe ... it's there. It's just there, and it always will be.