When I first began my journey, I was so infused with grief that there was little else to think about. There were many times when life needed attention and it felt like an intrusion. Friends would drop by or call and I grew irritated by their intrusion when they would try to engage me in normal conversation about life. All I could think was, "Are you kidding? Don't you realize that I can't focus right now? My brain is too full!" I simply offered what must have seemed like an empty smile for I was caught on a few occasion. Like the time a friend, realizing that I had a painted on smile and empty eyes, started talking about someone being caught cheating with a co-worker in the photocopier room. The words were spoken but I was not registering and it was only when I realized she was smiling intently did I clue in on the words. Clearing her throat, she laughed and hugged me. Earth to Ginette ... come in please! As if anyone did this anymore, fooling around with a co-worker in a cloakroom ... I mean in a photocopier room.
Who knew that grieving can be habit-forming? For a long time, too long, I lived in this small world. Then I began to venture out only to quickly retreated there when life felt too overwhelming. In my grief, it seemed to offer me a sense of well-being and I was comfortable with surroundings. My world was made smaller by doing so, for those who initially found my absence to be okay, grew tired and uncomfortable seeing me this way; they simply stopped trying. The less people dropped by, or called, the smaller my world became and the more comfortable I was ... and so on and so on.
How times have changed. I am now reconnecting in a real way with those who never let go, finding a sincere interest in knowing what's new in their life; reconnecting to my own interests such as photography and my work as a doula; reconnecting to my career, getting excited about the projects. I nurture those new relationships garnered by my need to connect with those who knew my pain. These relationships are flourishing today, fed by hope and sustained by the common need to grow.
Indeed, how times have changed. I now sometimes get irritated by the questions about my loss or when I think that I am defined in another's eyes by my widowhood.
I am thankful that there are still those who can speak openly about my journey with grief without defining me by my loss, and who can see and appreciate my growth. I am thankful for the new relationships forged out of darkness and now growing in the light of hope.
Sometimes, I wonder if this is not the calm before another storm. However, as the saying goes, I choose not to look at a gift horse in the mouth! The sun is shinning today!
Let the sun shine. I too have thought about the addictive nature of grief.
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