It's been six months since my husband died. In some ways it feels like forever, in other ways it feels like yesterday. We were both huge Doctor Who fans and one of our favorite quotes was "People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly... timey-wimey... stuff." That's what this feels like. I've grown so much emotionally that it feels like a very long time must have passed. But when I sit & get quiet, the loss wells up inside me like it was yesterday.
Grief is weird. And until you experience, you have no clue. I didn't.
A couple of weeks ago I went to Grand Junction to the arts & crafts show. Sometimes I know something is going to cause the grief to surface, other times I'm totally not thinking & clueless, until "Bam!" it gets me. Driving to GJ, I felt the sorrow surface. I've learned to just let it, let the feelings surface, let the tears flow. I exited the freeway and there I was, sitting at the longest light in the world in front of the hospital where the worst week of my life happened, where the last week of my husband's life happened. I sat there and stared at the window of the room he was in. The trickle of tears became a full fledged storm. I drove a few blocks to where the arts & crafts show was, pulled in the parking lot and the tears became a deluge. We had been in that show for the last 12 years. I went into the show and it was a painful, but healing experience. Our artist family gathered around me. They let me know they missed Jim and missed us being there. They listened while I talked and hugged me. They gave me unconditional acceptance and gave freely of their love & affection. I cried my way through the show, sometimes laughing at the same time. More letting go. More acceptance. Walking through the grief. Gratitude for those that hold my hand as I walk through the rough patches.
I haven't been able to watch Doctor Who yet this year. Or Fringe. Or Survivor. We watched them together and even when our marriage was pretty much over, we still watched them & talked about them.
It seems to be a continual process. Every time I confront something with a ton of memories entwined, another layer of denial is destroyed. I am reminded that he died, he's no longer in this world. And the pain is as fresh as it was the first day. Either the pain has gotten less intense, or I'm just used to it now.
It wasn't only that he died that day. I died too. The whole picture of my life shattered. I now know how tenuous, how delicate the balance of our everyday life is. I spent so much time looking for security, for safety. Now I know those are only illusions. There is now and my connectedness with now and that's pretty much it. A lot of my fear has been removed. I'm being more me than I ever have and living life the best I can.
Life can't hand me much worse than it did this year. But I also think of this year as the year I discovered I'm a phoenix. I was incinerated and a new me has risen from the ashes. A stronger, more me, me. A me that knows I can pretty much handle anything. I am a bad ass warrior phoenix. Who cries a lot.
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