Hello, and thank you for being here. I share my heart today, I am here, feeling misty blue. Clouds all week, but I am in my quiet moment. I have an abundance of gratitude to have these moments of solitude. I thought about posting 2 days ago. For some odd reason, we catalog in our brains, specific calendar dates in our head. Births, deaths, anniversaries. All hold a special meaning for us. We tend to cling to the day someone dies. We are eager to remember the timeline, the moments, hours before, leading up to, and we deep down wish we could turn back time. Perhaps, I should accept fully that I can never change what has happened. Most definitely, with the Grace of God, I am. In my time, with tons of support from fellowship, grieving bereavement groups, and sharing my grief with others who are also grieving a loss. Wednesday, would mark Tom’s death, 90 days. I sat and journaled about this. 90 Days, 90 years? Does it matter? The span and space inbetween? Would my loss or my heartbreak be any less? I think not. It is no different, loss. It was someone we love, cherished, adored. They leave the physical world, swiftly, unexpectedly. Some loved ones, suffer with a terminal illness or disease. I had watched my father slowly succumb to lung cancer. It shook me, and disturbed me for quite sometime. He fought, he took every single chemo and radiation treatment. He was still fighting and living each day. Tom’s death was tragic, violent and sudden. Guess what…90 days is a blur. I can’t even imagine any person I know or love not get that. Sadly, many are “past” it. Moved on, let go, accepted, grieved quicker, buried it, deny it or simply won’t grieve outwardly. I am none of those things, my heart doesn’t feel any less sad. Sadness, is such a huge part of grief. I am sad for and about Tom constant. I am not confused, ashamed, depressed or suicidal. I am just sad and in mourning.
I wake up each day, wanting to live. Some days, I say, I do this for Tom. I think of him lovingly. I think of him giving and taking care of everyone and everything. I meditate and try and envision him in total peace. The peace he sought privately, that no one knew he lost or didn’t acquire. I pray for each of his children and wife and my family to honor him, love him and be healthy and present in today.
I try and find some balance. A place to cry. A place to hide. A place to see beauty and hope. I am getting there. None of this is easy. I try and not make it more difficult. I try and be authentic and all the while knowing this one thing. You must walk into it, lean into it, and crawl through it, to see the other side. There is no short cuts, no hidden agenda. It is grief, it will always be a part of me. The only way to heal, is to face it and let it be a part of your journey. I try and remember. The way I feel today, this moment, will not last forever. It will, he will, soften, and his light will shine in me again.
Love & Peace to you,