Photo from here....
Originally posted on my personal blog after one year of widowhood....Occasionally, I am now bouyed by a lightness and happiness that I can't explain. I worry at times that I have 'lost the plot' so to speak. That I'm a nut job about to slip over the edge. I mean, really, I've had a shite of a last year. I lost my husband/best friend, my sweet and wonderful grandfather and my beloved 15 year old dog. I am scraping to make ends meet. I am alone. My kids are somewhat damaged from the monumental changes in their short little lives....But somedays, inexplicably, I am happy.
I feel traitorous saying that and even worry that some people will misinterpret these pockets of joy thinking that I don't miss Jeff with every breath I take while wishing he were here to enjoy these upswings and bubbles of bliss.
In fact, I only think that it is because of the loss of Jeff that I can feel this. Before he died, I was bogged down with worry about vacuous and frivolous shit. I could see how I had been wronged in every situation. I could find fault and anger everywhere. I am still 'blessed' with this ridiculous and terrible gift....but I am also learning to be able to turn it off. I am concentrating so hard on trying to see the positive, to feel joy, to search for the good in an effort to not drown in grief, that I am learning to shut out that sinister and nepharious self-destructive voice. When that voice is silent, I feel joy. Pure, warm joy. I can feel sadness and pain alongside it, but I can still turn my face to the light and smile. This, the ability to force myself to stare through rose-coloured glasses, has been the largest gift that Jeff has given me....it is just such a shame that it has been in the loss of him that I have found this gift. I wish we could have shared our life together with this realization in mind....and not just the cognitive recognition of this, but the actual realization that I have had since losing my love.
Yes - I feel that too.
ReplyDeleteI think it is because from incredible sorrow and pain we wipe away the "everyday dirt" on the glass window of our lives - everything is suddenly clearer.
Words of wisdom, seventeen years before I lost my husband we lost our first daughter at 11 weeks of age to SIDS. This experience taught us to live as you described, yes, we would "backslide" but we tried, for her. We all look for meaning in death, especially when it is a child, this is one of the "meanings" from her--live life Mommy, love others, and don't sweat the small stuff. Love to you!
ReplyDeleteThank you Jackie for a great post! It does seem bitter sweet to realize that because of my husband's death, I have a new much improved outlook on life. I only wish, very deeply, that he were here to see that I now deal well with extra traffic in the morning, getting caught in a rain storm, or forgetting to pay a bill. All the small stuff that doesn't amount to much.
ReplyDeleteThanks!
I took something else from this post and I'm glad that I can say it here. There are times during the day, not every day, when I realize that I actually feel HAPPY. And it catches me off guard and I wonder if that's OK? I mean it is OK to feel happy, often for no real reason. I chalk it up to Michael sending me tidbits of happiness and laughter. He's telling me that it's OK. But I worry, am I leaving him behind in this? There's still a part of me that wants to stay sad because there I'm close to him. Just another hurdle to get past in this whole grief thing.
ReplyDeleteThis...
ReplyDelete"This, the ability to force myself to stare through rose-coloured glasses, has been the largest gift that Jeff has given me....it is just such a shame that it has been in the loss of him that I have found this gift. I wish we could have shared our life together with this realization in mind....and not just the cognitive recognition of this, but the actual realization that I have had since losing my love."
...put into words what I've been feeling since Dave died. It does seem so impossible that something so terrible could bring with it such a gift. Hard-won, yes. One I'd hand back to the universe to have him back, but still a gift.
And I too, feel a little stab of guilt when the happiness (or some version of happiness) hits. As though I'm leaving him behind. But if it were me who left him here, I'd want him to go forth and LIVE. There's no way I can leave him behind because he's woven into my being.
Thank you for this post. It felt like it was my heart turned into words. I love that about this blog.
Ya
ReplyDeleteI know how you feel :I
I feel it all the time
Like I am the only one who's sad
The opposite of your picture
But what I said here in this comment isn't how you feel
Nor do I
that is a completely different feeling
The reason why I posted it is because it is another feeling I feel a lot of the time... :I
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