Every now and then, I reminded that although I feel like I've been at this for a very, very long time, it is still so very fresh. Truly, I am but at the dawn of my grief.
Yesterday was an ordinary enough day, coffee with my sister, couple of errands that really needed my attention and then off to hide my roots! What a great job my hairdresser does - you not only look good but you feel like you've just got all caught up with an old friend! At least mine does.
Then to the business of getting caught up at home. I was searching through a drawer, looking for a piece off my tripod and found instead, a simple card. This simple card had the strength of a bulldozer. I was sent into a roaring cry of pain, it scorched my finger tips and the tears came gushing down. It was last year's birthday card from Bill. I was physically shaken and blinded by his simple handwriting that wished me all the best in the coming year and thanked me for being me.
I am but at the dawn of my grief! Just when I thought ... I am reminded that it has only begun.
But what is different, is the length of time I now spend at this pity party I host for myself, every time I come across these treasures. I had a great cry, my heart still stings but is not emptied by the reminder; actually, I am trying to remember this time last year - foggy. What is still clear and very vivid, is my beautiful man, running his fingers through various cards, opening each one and reading what treasure was inside. He would either place it back on the rack because it was not quite what he wanted to say or his moustache would twitch because he had finally found the right one. It is not the big moments that come to mind, but the tender times I watched him. Those are my treasured memories.
They say that grief is like a cocoon - you are in it until such time as your grief has finally transformed you and you will once again fly. I think for now, I am looking forward to seeing this year's first butterflies. I believe that they will bring a simple reminder of what awaits me - to finally dance with the gentle whispers of a summer's breeze.
Oh dear BForever,
ReplyDeleteI had a similar experience, finding a birthday card my husband had made for me. I read his scrawled printing and burst into a convulsion of tears. It's the simple things that are so powerful. Your bulldozer metaphor is so apt.
I think it speaks so much to our own ability to love.
And though our stories are of course unique, we are both so fortunate to have been so deeply fulfilled in love, when so many marriages, it seems, are full of disappointments. Mine couldn't have been better. Longer but not better. Not possible. And I am sure you would say the same.
In solidarity and gratitude...