It is my privileged to write to you each week and I hope my blog inspires you to question what is stirring in your heart. I encourage you to lean into your grief. And, to feel it to it's depth. This isn't easy, but it is the only way through this mess.
I believe that we are lead back towards life and living when we allow ourselves to be still, and sit in the "nothingness" where grief lives. Visiting this empty place is difficult, but it is necessary. This quiet place holds the blueprints of our new, changed life.
I know you are scared to go to the edge of this place; admittedly, I am too. But, we have to take a leap of faith. With time, I am gathering momentum, and I am going to leap and build my wings on the way down.
It has been over two years since Mike died and I realize that what I fear most about the future is not the risks and uncertainty. What I am afraid of is letting the opportunities for change pass me by. I am afraid that I will settle into an ordinary life when I want an extraordinary life.
I am worried that I will play small, when my potential is big. As I write to you each week I am challenging us both not to shrink. I am keeping us accountable. I do not want either of us to fall back into an easy comfortableness when we can leap forward, towards a bold life. I want you to manifest the best in yourself. Go on, begin to recreate a beautiful life for yourself.
From the Ledge with Wings in Hand,
I miss your touch desperately.
When you were alive my skin knew your touch by heart.
I knew how you felt.
I knew that the stubble on your cheeks wasn’t that rough;
Your shoulders were wide and your chest was solid.
Your hands were thick and strong.
I remember that your nails were always kept cut short because you thought it was gross when people were unkept.
I still know how your lips felt pressed against mine.
I still know how your goodbye kiss tasted.
I know how your “ hey, baby come here” good morning kiss feels.
I still know your kiss.
And, I miss it.
I miss it more than any words I can write.
I know how it feels to fall asleep on your chest.
And, I miss this feeling every single night.
Sometimes I miss you physically holding me so much I feel like I could crawl out of my skin.
When I acknowledge that there is nothing that can ever allow me to touch you again I feel nauseated.
Death means, never again.
No matter how much I want your touch and your warmth and your kiss, I can never feel this again as long as I live.
Physically, you are not available to me ever again.
That statement takes my breath away.
The reality of this, puts a lump in my throat and an ache in my chest.
The heaviness of this feels like it is crushing my heart.
I miss you Mike.
And, I miss your touch.
(And, this is a fucking understatement.)