There are moments like this evening, when going through a motion I catch a glimpse of Bill doing the same. These moments once reduced me to tears but this evening I found myself smiling. It was a simple motion, pouring more salt into the salt shaker. In my mind's eye, I remembered watching his beautiful strong lean hands holding the same shaker and pouring the salt into it. The smile came from not so much remembering him doing it but rather the comment that always came when he had to replenish most things. It was always about, did he have to always be the one to do it, and did the last person to use something not realize that it was empty ... with a grumble! That would include changing the milk pouch, toilet paper and reaching into the Kleenex box and finding it empty.
I smile and my heart warms a little more for it is so much easier to re-member than to dis-member. As I continued my journey with grief, and some time had passed, I often felt pushed, and sometimes bullied by the well-meaning people who, fuelled by the concept of the five stages of grief, wanted me moving towards acceptance. I often felt like such a failure because I could not seem to move forward letting go of the relationship; moving on. To dis-member meant for me severing all emotional ties to Bill while adjusting to this new life without him here physically. This was simply not a fit for me.
My work with Narrative Grief Therapy offered a fit. Through the sharing of our story, sharing through my blog, Bill is now re-membered and he continues to be a real part of my life. We are walking together through this journey, much like those days we went exploring the trails, exploring the city or simply sharing at the end of the day.
Armed with this understanding and acceptance of my life with and without him, I have discovered the road to well-being and live a more balanced life.
Your comments about well-meaning folks are right on. I like the idea of re-membering, as opposed ot dis-membering.
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