Wednesday, October 23, 2013

what if

In just a couple weeks, I'm coming up on 3 years. That realization along with the hormones of pregnancy has really been a lethal - and emotional - combination. I found this old post from my blog that jumped out at me as something I've been thinking about lately and thought I would share. Maybe someone, somewhere out there might connect with this too.

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I play this torturous game with myself pretty regularly, where I wonder what I would do if you came back today. I don't mean to play, my mind plays and my heart can't help but join. Every time I think about it, I feel my heart jolt, almost fooling myself into believing it could be possible. But the let down after still hurts every time.


Every time I think about what I would do. What would I say? I imagine myself dropping to my knees, sobbing, in sheer and utter gratitude more powerful than any emotion I've ever felt. I'd hang on to your neck, kiss you, and scan my fingers over your face, soaking in every inch of you, asking you where you've been. I'd tell you how you wouldn't believe the hell we'd been through but it suddenly seemed like nothing with you standing in front of me. Then I'd take you to Carter, so you could finally meet the handsome boy we created.


I often think that if everyone were able to feel this kind of devastation in their hearts without having to suffer the actual loss in reality, it could change the world. It would change marriages, families, relationships. It's ironic the knowledge that comes with loss when you can't use it to appreciate what you no longer have. 


"'What' and 'if' are two words as nonthreatening as words come. But put them together side-by-side and they have the power to haunt you for the rest of your life: 'What if?'..." -Letters to Juliet

It does haunt me. Every single day.
I miss you baby.
I love you always.

9 comments:

  1. I play this very scenario in my head often and I know if it meant giving my life just to have him walk in the door and hold me one more time, I would do it. Like you, I can feel the joy in my heart at the possibility and the breaking of my heart when I realize it won't happen.

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  2. I feel this every day. I'm just in my 6th month since my husband died, and I still almost feel as if I keep on standing up and doing what needs to be done, that somehow, somewhere, the Powers-That-Be will have mercy on me and send him back. And I'll love him even more than I did (which was with all that I am and thankfully, he knew it).

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  3. When I think of never seeing my husband again, I literally can't breathe. After 28 months on this hellish journey, I still expect to drive in the garage and see him at the work bench or in the house sitting on the couch watching television. When I buy things for the house, my first thought is what will my husband think. He will always be my husband; the love of my life.

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    1. exactly how I feel.

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  4. As I am two days from what would have been our 39th wedding anniversary and five days from the three year anniversary of his death, I have contemplated the "what if" so many times. I have dreamt he returned and in my dream I sobbed with relief and joy and shock so hard I sat right up gasping for air. I will never stop longing to see his face again. I know my last breath and wish will be to see him again.
    Like Alison - I spent the first year of my life without him "doing what needs to be done" like somehow he could see me, taking out the garbage, working on the garden, keeping track of bills and fixing what needed to be fixed. I kept wanting him to somewhere be and to be proud of me for carrying on.
    I know he is gone. I know he won't return.
    So now when I feel "What if" I stand still and say "Thank you my love. Thank you for spending your precious life on earth with me."

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  5. I am one of those someone(s). At 31 lost my husband to cancer. It's been almost 6 months. I still dream of my husband every few days. I miss him so much. Cry myself to sleep. He saved his sperms prior to chemo and I am thinking about using it. Am I crazy? No one could understand our losses until they have gone through it themselves. Thanks for your post. We are not alone.

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    1. Daisy, I lost my husband 3 years ago to cancer and we also saved his sperm prior to chemo. I too have battled with the idea of whether or not to use it. You are definitely NOT CRAZY and NOT ALONE. Who would have ever thought we would have to make decisions like these at such a young age.....
      I'm glad you found Widow's Voice and our community but I'm so sorry that you had to find us. -Claire

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    2. No, of course you are not crazy. And you are not alone. Do whatever is in your heart.

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  6. So beautifully written. My heart skipped a beat thinking what if? I would do the same-kiss that face, brush the hair from his forehead (he loved when I did that) he always said I had the softest hands. One more bear hug. After two years I still think I will see him at his work bench or working on a puzzle in the kitchen. It would be good for people to know this w/o actually going through it. I have had friends tell me I have taught them a lot and how to appreciate their family and what is important in life. I miss that man. I will love him forever & for always.

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