The crying has changed
No longer the gut-wrenching belly-deep howl that you’re sure will make you throw up and that goes on for so long you JUST CAN’T BREATH.
There are still bouts of inconsolable tears but they don’t last as long, they don’t hurt my sinuses and eyes as much. In fact, sometimes they feel good, they remind me of the love I had. The love I still have.
The sense of shock has diminished: I’d be rich if I had a nickel for every time I’ve stopped dead in my tracks on any given day for the first couple of years and thought “did this really happen? “
The shock of seeing his name on a piece of mail was unnerving.
How could they not know? Why must they (whoever “they” are) continue to assault me at the mailbox? Or The shock that nearly brought me to my knees just hearing his name at the doctor’s office. They simply wanted to confirm he’s still my next of kin.
The words “No, he died” were nearly impossible to utter.
The fear of losing my memory of Him has waned: I’m finally able to go through his things with rationality and purpose. My heart is allowing me to reclaim and own the spaces we once shared. I truly understand he will never leave my heart and my memory, so I don’t need (many) THINGS to remember him by. I will, however, always and forever need to hear his voice.
My sense of purpose is returning.
To be continued.
No longer the gut-wrenching belly-deep howl that you’re sure will make you throw up and that goes on for so long you JUST CAN’T BREATH.
There are still bouts of inconsolable tears but they don’t last as long, they don’t hurt my sinuses and eyes as much. In fact, sometimes they feel good, they remind me of the love I had. The love I still have.
The sense of shock has diminished: I’d be rich if I had a nickel for every time I’ve stopped dead in my tracks on any given day for the first couple of years and thought “did this really happen? “
The shock of seeing his name on a piece of mail was unnerving.
How could they not know? Why must they (whoever “they” are) continue to assault me at the mailbox? Or The shock that nearly brought me to my knees just hearing his name at the doctor’s office. They simply wanted to confirm he’s still my next of kin.
The words “No, he died” were nearly impossible to utter.
The fear of losing my memory of Him has waned: I’m finally able to go through his things with rationality and purpose. My heart is allowing me to reclaim and own the spaces we once shared. I truly understand he will never leave my heart and my memory, so I don’t need (many) THINGS to remember him by. I will, however, always and forever need to hear his voice.
My sense of purpose is returning.
To be continued.
