Thursday, November 24, 2011

First year ... bah yumbug!

It has been quite the road trip over the last couple of days.  As usual, my career occupies much of my life these days but never a moment goes by without acknowledging Bill's influence on my life.  Still yesterday, as I pulled up into the driveway, I would have given anything to know that he was home waiting for me so that I could share the events of the last two days, and I could share "me".  Home life feels disconnected somehow.  Strangers living under the same roof.  Not alone, yet very lonely.

Bill often called me the glue that kept us all together, yet I must question this assumption.  WE were the glue that kept things together.  As hard as I worked at ensuring communication, physical needs and family gathering was intact, I could only do it knowing he was there to support.  He offered the voice of reason when needed.  I have become very timid in all things "family".  I observe in silence as my little family seems to grow apart, powerless to affect change. 

So where is this magical glue ... the glue that keeps me together and keeps our family intact?  I miss the wholeness of it all!  Parents raise their children the best they can and hope that one day we get to see them take their wings ... this is so not what we had pictured, what I had pictured.

Bill's birthday is coming up and my emotions are raw with anger ... that he should be with us to celebrate, with sadness ... that we can't be the glue together ... with much loneliness!

Who said the first year is the hardest!

1 comment:

  1. I repeatedly say that the second year is harder than the first. The First Year, we are protected by the fog of grief, wrapped in the blankets of shock and disbelief. The Second Year -- the Second Year we realize that all the Firsts without our beloved mean that there are Seconds and Thirds and Fourths without him, too. And that just brings us to our knees.

    And Society, in its infinite wisdom, tells us that after the Firsts, it should be easier, we should be better. All better.

    Bah, humbug.

    But I can tell you from halfway through the Eighths, that it does get better, it does get easier.

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