One day I could see my whole life stretched out in front of me, and then, suddenly, I couldn't see 2 feet in front of me. Hitting that wall of thick foggy grief literally took my breath away. My life was shattered into a million pieces and I had no idea how to put them all back together. Many of those pieces I have managed to glue together over the past 2 years. Others are still scattered so widely that I just can't seem to pick all of them up. Some are so shattered that they are not repairable. It is those pieces that will forever be missing from my life.
No matter how hard I work at it there are some wounds that will never fully heal. I have to adjust to a whole new way of living. Things have changed too radically to ever go back to what they were. I am a whole new person with a whole other life. Because I am a changed person now, many things are much clearer.
When I first began to see through the fog of grief and enjoy happy moments I felt guilty. Guilty that TJ wasn't around to enjoy them too. Guilty that maybe it was too soon for me to be happy. Guilty that I was dishonoring TJ's memory by having joy in my life. It was that guilt that would push me back into the fog of grief. I would find myself suspended in the fog until joy found its way around to me again and as quickly as the fog would clear it would reappear as the guilt took over. It was only once the fog of grief cleared completely that the real healing began.
I began to feel true happiness again. Happiness without the guilt. Yes, there are many times when I think to myself that TJ would have loved to be a part of it, but it is with a smile and not a frown. I began to find happiness in unexpected places. I began finding my way back to the things that truly mattered the most. I believe the universe has a way of making sure we wind up exactly where we belong. I now believe I am on that path, although I don't know where it leads. Did a part of me die right along side of TJ? Yes, of course it did, but I have to choose. I have to choose between yesterday and tomorrow. I must pick one and stick with it.
Healing is not a team sport. It is a solitary, long distance run. It is long, it is exhausting, and it is lonely as hell!
I'm impressed by the balance you seem to find, in the midst of your grief. I hope you've felt a lot of support along the way.
ReplyDelete~~~~Beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteThe fog. The lonliness. The guilt. The exhaustion. The void.
Yesterday. Tomorrow. How does one choose?
I cannot. I cannot leave yesterday behind when it was so much Apart of who I am.
Kay & I were almost one person.
In a way, I've become reborn...And I'm not quite sure where to go from here.
Love to you, my dear Sandy. Xxx
*hugs and love* Some days it's much more difficult to embrace today rather than yesterday.
ReplyDeleteWow, Sandy.
ReplyDeleteI know you are a very strong independent person, but I thought your journey through grief had been a much more public, supported one with all the friends you have.
Do you really feel that it has been a more solitary journey?
I hope you are finding more of those moments of joy. You deserve them.
Greg
Wow, Sandy, I didn't know you still felt such a sense of long distance loneliness. I sure hope you are finding more of those joyful moments because you deserve them.
ReplyDeleteGreg
Thank you for sharing. I hope to find happiness in the fog. Your post is so very true. A part of you dies along with your spouse. xoxo
ReplyDeleteyou give a message of hope and renewal that not many people can convey. thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeletei agree; healing and grief are not done with a team. sure we have people who are there for us, support us, but in the end, first thing in the morning, last thing at night, during a phone call with a doctor, we are alone and will deal with all the ripples of life that surge around us. we are forever changed.
ReplyDeleteyou have strength in your writing. one day i will, too. one day i will get my head above water.