"The moon is whole all the time, but we can’t always see it. What we see is an almost moon or not-quite moon. The rest is hiding just out of view, but there’s only one moon, so we follow it in the sky. We plan our lives based on its rhythms and tides." ~ Alice Sebold (The Almost Moon)
Grief is whole all the time, but those who see me can't always see it. What they see are the moments when I cannot contain it. Finding balance between grieving and taking my place in life is becoming easier, however, it does have its own rhythm, its own tides.
Living as we do in a culture having no tolerance for pain of any kind, where oftentimes the solution is found in a pill, it is no wonder that this balance is made complicated. I often feel that I am living on someone else's timetable. These cultural expectations are voiced in subtle comments such as the first year is over, time to move on, or the blank stares that say time to get over it. Most times, these leave me frustrated and feeling abnormal when I can't stop this pain.
Our culture seems to be rooted in a deep belief that once a person has died, they are no longer with us and the griever must learn how to "forget" before they can "move on", or "heal".
Like many before me, and many to come, I expected to feel better after the first year of my loss. After all, I am conditioned to believe that there is a magic switch somewhere. Although I will not write that I am feeling worst as I embark on the second year, I will admit that I was a little disappointed to not feeling "transformed" - I was the same, yet different.
Much of this last year has been filled being preoccupied with "how" ... how can I go on without, how can I deal with everything alone, and how can I survive without his physical presence and all that meant emotionally and financially.
The last few weeks have been made easier by not working so hard to "move on" without. Instead, I have acknowledged that Bill is, and will always be, with me. He is along for the ride. Love endures death. There is no "closure" to my relationship with Bill; he was, is and will always be significant to my life.
Now what?
This was left in my FB messages from my cousin ... I have heard this more and more these past few weeks.
ReplyDelete"Hi girl. Hope you're doing ok. When we deal with the "firsts" of everything, it's like we prepare ourselves for this. Just a warning, it was harder for me on the second time around. The first year was like I was numb, I lived with my head in a cloud, then reality set in. Just so you know. Don't mean to burst the bubble of the "firsts" and thinking "Well I got that out of the way." The loss does get easier but it takes a long time to fill the emptiness, loneliness, the feeling you used to get every time the truck turns into the yard. For you it has been so many more years with Bill as compared to the years I've spent with G. The quality of life...that's what it's all about. Love you cuz."