I’m mostly doing okay, though it’s going to take a long time to get used to living without my life mate. I keep thinking that I’ve been good about dealing with all I’ve had to deal with, so now it’s time to go home to him. I’m not sure what will be worse, still feeling that I can go home, or how I will feel when I get to the point where I know deep down that I can’t ever go home. Maybe by that time I’ll find my home within myself, but I am a long way from there yet. I am going through the grieving process way too fast, though. I see our life and my connection to it and him moving away from me at ever increasing speeds. It scares me, the thought of losing that connection. Scares me even more to think of growing old alone. I’m okay now, but what will I do when the physical limitations start?
I came across an interesting comment in a book today (Colony by Anne Rivers Siddons):
“Only the very young and old know the tranquility of the moment. The contentment of living each day as it comes to them, wholly and with all senses. The young do it because they know nothing, yet, of pain and fear and the transience of their lives; the old because they know everything of those things and can bear them only by staying in the moment.”
I’m not exactly old yet, though I too need to deal with life only moment by moment. Otherwise the pain — still! — is overwhelming, as is the fear. I can live this day, accepting what comes, even the tears. In the end, that’s all any of us have while we are alive — this day. If we can’t carpe diem, the next best thing is just to survive it.
Bertram's Blog 
June 25, 2010 at 9:28 am
Lovely sentiments. It’s remarkable how different we are, yet how similar we seem to be. I think it’s not about focusing on what has ended but on new beginnings. And knowing that we don’t have to be happy to be at peace. At least that’s what I’ve learned, and that knowledge is helping me cope.
June 25, 2010 at 5:41 pm
Joylene, I know you’re right about focusing on new beginnings, but at the moment I’m straddling the two worlds — the ending of the old one and the beginning of the new one. You’re also right about happiness not being necessary for peace. I never thought happiness was necessary, but at least a modicum of peace is. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be like than you. You’ve handled your tragedies with such grace.
June 25, 2010 at 8:25 pm
And I’m sitting here thinking I’m a coward because I still hide behind my grief and use my characters to filter my rage.
Also three years has passed. I wouldn’t have sounded so articulate two years ago. Or even a year ago when our son was stationed in Afghanistan. What changes is when the day comes and somebody needs you. Without provocation you put aside your grief and reach out to help. It’s human nature. Those who can’t don’t generally survive. Voicing your grief, writing it down as you are, is part of what will heal you, I think.
Already you are so readily able to write it down. I see that as a great strength. Why some people are stronger than others, I have no idea. But I feel yours. You’re passing it along.
June 26, 2010 at 5:24 pm
Joylene, Using your characters to filter your rage is good. Sometimes raw rage is too destructive, especially when one is struggling to deal with all the other emotions that grief brings. It might be a strength to write about my grief, but it’s more that I have nothing to lose. And it’s my way of reaching out to others who find themselves in this untenable situation. There are way too many of us!
I was going to hide behind my grief, too — or rather, hide my grief — but somehow it seemed dishonest to continue my life as if nothing had happened. And after a month or two when I’d decided it seemed too self-serving to still be talking about it, the grief group convinced me that it was necessary for me to continue so that people could see the truth of grief. Could be. I just finished reading a book where the woman lost her mother, and it didn’t affect her at all except that a couple of times tears welled up, but she held them back. Yeah, right.
June 28, 2010 at 6:12 pm
Wise words. A lot of our misery comes from dwelling on the past and the future. Even if this moment is painful, it’s the fear that the misery will continue that makes it worse.
December 9, 2010 at 5:44 pm
Wow, this blog was moving. You have the ability to describe your emotions so vividly. I wish you the best on this journey of life. May anger, misery and heartache leave your soul and be filled with happiness and joy.
December 10, 2010 at 9:51 pm
Thank you.