Ten months ago, at this time of the day, Bill was just settling in at work. Only ten short months ago.
I have been speaking with a few people these last few days and in our conversations, I mentioned that I felt "antsy", as if I was sitting on the verge of something. It came to me ... I am standing on the edge of the cliff. The one that would have me take a leap of faith.
I can stand here forever, frozen in time, frozen in my grief, wishing Bill would come back to me. Expecting to hear the door open and to hear his deep cultured voice saying "I'm back". Expecting the phone to ring and to hear him say that he misses me as much as I miss him and that this business trip is nearly over. Expecting to come home and find him asleep after a long journey and that I can climb into bed next to him and breath his presence in. Expecting to wake up one morning only to realize this has all been a bad dream.
The realization that this will never happen, that he is physically gone forever, that this is real, is settling in my heart. My leap of faith is to breathe and take that first step to walk with this truth and know that there is the other side to this pain.
But first, how do I say goodbye?
Ginette, I struggle with the same issue. It just doesn't seem right that Gwen is permanently removed from the face of the earth. And, no one seems to care the way I do. In response to your question about how do you say goodbye, I would say that you'll never say goodbye completely. Look at your poem that I published in my blog today, I think you kind of answer your own question in the poem. Good to hear from you, I was becoming a teensy bit concerned.
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