I woke this morning early to write this - all my friends still dozing away from a late night of fun. As I brew up a pot of coffee in the morning quiet, I am able to finally think things over.
It's been a great trip, but I have found myself having to really try hard to put on a smile. I am just having a diffiult time getting excited about things...
This morning, it hits me: All these friends who came down for the weekend... They are new friends. Friends I have met in the past year. Friends who never knew Drew. Even after almost 3 years, that can still be hard. It can still be hard to not wish he were here, and remember what it felt like when my partner was there on these kinds of trips with me... Where we could enjoy being that beautiful extension of one another in the company of others.
This was compounded by the fact that the new guy I am dating was not able to be here, and I was simultaneously wishing to share that with him too. And then finally, further compounded by the fact that we are staying at my in-laws' beach condo. The place where Drew and I had so many memories. And the forever strange reminder that his family is not only still in my life, but IS my family now too... Only he isn't here to get to enjoy that.
Anytime there is a coming together of my new and old world like this - it stirs up the grief. He wanted so badly for us to be married and share a life together... And we just didn't get there, and while I may someday go on to have that with someone else... I will always be sad that it was a funeral - not a wedding - that united his life and mine forever.
Grief: it's like a pack I've been carrying these years. At first it was too heavy to even walk with - for a long, long time. At first I could not fathom how I would ever be strong enough to carry it onto any forward path. And while I did become stronger, I'm discovering a lot of the forward movement has had more to do with lightening the load I carry.
I have been opening up this pack, day by day, taking things out of it - pieces of my grief. I've turned them over in my hands and heart. I've cried for them, held them, felt them, and then.... Finally, kneeled down to leave them on the ground as I walk ahead.
The good news is that, after a few years of pairing things down, my pack IS getting lighter. And I AM stronger than when I started out. Even with a lighter load and a stronger back though, carrying the grief on the new legs of this journey is still exhausting. Sometimes the inclines get too steep and I have to slow down, or the storms of life cause me to have to hunker down a while. I am okay with that most of the time. He was worth it, IS worth it. But some of the time, I wish I could just leave the whole pack behind... Only I know there are vital tools for navigating in there that I must take with me.
Last night I ended up staying in while all my friends went out to the bar. I hesitated, almost forced myself to go out when I wasn't up for it. At the last minute though, I bailed and let them go out while I went to bed. Today I am already feeling a bit better overall.
I am reminding myself this morning that this journey is still challenging and there will be times when I need to take my pack off and rest a while. It may even happen in the middle of a social gathering or another inconvenient time... But the most important thing is to put that pack - and myself - first. To make room in my life to stop and open up my grief, and also to stop and look back over all the distance I've traveled so far... and be proud.
Sarah, my grief journey started in June 2011 when my husband died suddenly of a heart attack. We were retired for 11 years before he died. During those 11 years, we were together most of the time. As I approach the fourth anniversary of his death, I find myself with tears rolling down my face all over again. The pain of his death is never far away. Yes, I have new lady friends as our couple friends are long gone, but I feel so alone and miss him so much. For those of us who are in our 60's and older, the reality is that we will, more than likely, not find another special someone. It took me 48 years to find the love of my life. I have no illusions that a love like ours will ever come again for me. Facing what is left of my life without him is so painful that there are days that I look up and tell God that I can't do this. Thank you for all your awesome posts and beautiful photography. Karen
ReplyDeleteKaren, your story could be my story. The years ahead look long and lonely without him. How are we supposed to live without love--knowing there's probably not going to be another special person in our lives? I stay active hiking and get together with [married] friends, but they're only temporary distractions. I miss him so much and am struggling to build a meaningful life without him. Thank you for posting--it helped. Cathy
DeleteThank you so much Karen for your heartfelt and honest note. I do hope that you find love again, when it feels right. I may be young, but I do believe it can happen at any age and that we are ALL entitled to find a perfect love twice. Maybe there can even be more than one version of perfect love... I think it's out there. I'm so glad you are here with us!
DeleteLove...love...love ..this.....I am in the same place. ...thanks for putting into words.
ReplyDeleteThank you Linda!!
Deletedear Sarah,
ReplyDeleteyour words written so beautifully, gives such truth to how heavy and horribly sad it is carry such anguish, to feel so bereft and lonely even when we are with people whom we love and in what is supposed to be a happy occasion , and that sometimes we have to put down that burden of grief and render good self care - taking stock of how far we have come even though it doesn't always feel we have moved forward as much as we have. I often forget to do even simple things , like drinking water, or just finding a place and time to sit quietly to clear my head and give myself some relief to stop the reels of grief that spin in an undercurrent in my head. thank you for reminding me that it is okay to put down that heavy pack and just be - even for a little while. okay...having a drink of water now...
much love,
Karen
As I type this... I've forgotten to eat much of anything today and had no water! lol. Thank you for the reminder to take care of that today Karen. And for this entire wonderful comment, it means so much to me that this one resonated with you!
DeleteI love this metaphor of unloading the pack, and how hard it can be. It is totally relatable and gives me a lot to think about. Thank you, Sarah, and hugs.
ReplyDeleteThanks Stephanie!
DeleteSarah. .. thank you. I love the comparison to a pack. Like you I must say i am beginning to stop, take things from the pack, hold them dearly and laugh or cry with them or sometimes both and then at times i am leaving them out of the pack when i pick it up to continue the journey. So well said .
ReplyDeleteYou are so welcome! Thank you for reading, and for sharing your thoughts!
DeleteI am looking for the Facebook "like" button to let you writers know that I love every one of your posts... every night I read the post of the day and it gives me such great comfort... thank you so much for what you relay to us....
ReplyDeleteThank you SO much for this. Sometimes a lot of us writers feel unsure if anyone "out there" is reading - trust me, it helps us so much to hear this. Sending you love!
DeleteMommy.
ReplyDeleteBeen ready every day for 4 years...my pack must have been so heavy that I couldn't lift it at first. But, like you, it is getting lighter as I continue. It will never be empty, grief becomes a part of you forever once experienced. Thank you for expressing the journey in this way, helps us all to see it from this view point.
ReplyDeleteThank you Cathy <3
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