Tomorrow, the day after this posting, marks the first anniversary of my beloved husband’s death. I can hardly believe it is true. One year.
It feels like yesterday. It feels like a lifetime ago.
So much has changed since he died. I have done many things, in spite of my crushing grief. I have visited my home neighbourhood in Indiana, and sat with pigs and donkeys on an animal sanctuary in Spain. I have travelled to Whitby in Yorkshire and to Ireland and to Snowdonia in Wales. I have spent days and weeks in meditation, study, and reflection with my sangha teachers and friends. I have helped form a grief support group with a widowed friend in Sheffield. I have written for this blog.
And some days, I have not been able to pull myself up from the grief. I have stayed on the sofa with the curtains closed. I have slept for hours throughout the day and into the night. I have had periods of insomnia where I could not sleep more than an hour or two at a time.
Such has been the landscape of my grief. Activity and exhaustion. Periods of joy and hope followed by deep sadness. Despair and loneliness and friendship and gratitude and love.Read more
Grief Is ...
Grief is that feeling where nothing is flat. There are mountains and hills and mud, and giant pieces of glass. There is fire and lightning and floods, and you are walking in it, without any shoes on. In the dark.
Grief is scolding hot and chilled to the bone. It gets in your nails and leaves you unwhole.
It’s December 1, 2011.
I bought a new car today.
My very first new car ever.
The very first car I have bought all by myself.
Something bright and shiny and new to replace the old and falling apart, frustrating and faded.
I should feel happy.
But I don’t.Read more
The grocery store
It's been one of the biggest grief triggers for me. At first, I couldn't bring myself to go at all. Thank god for the kindness of friends and coworkers who kept my fridge and freezer stocked for the first month or so. Thank god for my closest friends who grocery shopped for me at first.Read more
It starts with words. Then numbers.
Your shoe laces.
The things we learn in the earliest of ages can sometimes make us nostalgic. To have no worries but to learn what 1 + 2 equals. To clean your room. To use stick shift.
I'm sitting here, calmly typing this and it's been 622 days since my husband died.
I know exactly how many days because of my regular blog.
But to think that I can type this without tears would have been unthinkable a year ago.
I began writing about my pain just over a month after the accident.
I blogged everything because I knew I'd always be able to find it ... the internet being forever and all.
.... that is causing so many of us to feel so many more emotions right now?
I don't know.
I still don't know how this grief thing works.
Or, more pointedly, how it doesn't work.
All I do know is that it sucks.
Not sure where to begin.
It's definitely a time of reflection. Tomorrow, Tuesday, will be two years. What is appropriate for a two year anniversary?
The first year is paper. Last year at this time I was ...wait a minute. Don't you usually 'celebrate' anniversaries? Seems like the two words, anniversary and celebration, go hand in hand.
I'm not sure if this is the right thing to do. But I'm falling apart here at work. I need to express myself without speaking, as I am unable to speak without tears. Heavy tears.
I came into work today expecting it to be like any other day. I am a family court counselor, and I meet with parents to help them reach agreements regarding the custody of their children. Sometimes they reach agreement, other times I utilize my skills as a counselor to give recommendations back to the court.
9-11, 9-11, 9-11, 9-11 It’s everywhere. I, like the rest of the country I suspect, am afraid to write the wrong thing, aware that I do not know what it’s like...And that is where I stop myself. I do know what it’s like.I do know what it feels like in the dark hollowness that filled the first months. I do know the effort it takes to place a foot, then the other on the floor. I can talk with knowledge about leaning into a day that would be “another” one without him.Read more