I am struggling with this grief. It is just 1 month and 7 days until the year anniversary. It is an overwhelming feeling. I can’t tell if I’m more depressed about everything that has happened, or if it is the impending realization that it has almost been an entire year I have spent without my husband. Either one sucks.
I booked off work for the year anniversary. I wonder if I’ll go down to the beach the night before and wake up to walk the shores being reminded of him. But I can’t imagine a 4 hour drive to think about him and then sitting on that lonely ocean sand without him. But yet, that would be so him, and such a way to connect to him.
I’m struggling with what to do that day. Do I stay in bed and bawl all day? That doesn’t sound the least bit appealing, but then again, neither does recognizing the year without him. A year? A whole year. 365 days, 8760 hours without my lover. It is a numbing realization. The longest we were ever apart was almost 6 months, and that was brutal enough with only getting to talk once or twice a day. But a full year without his breath, the smell of him, the killer smile, the hands that held me so perfectly, his words of encouragement, his gentle demeanor, the closeness of the one I loved so much.
I don’t want the year mark to be here, I won’t lie. I don’t want to have to admit that it has been a full year since his passing and I still think about him everyday. I do not want to recognize that my love was so traumatically taken from this world and I do not want to continue to witness the trauma we shared together while he was sick as flashbacks. I am sick of it. I am sick of seeing ambulances driving past and imagining him not being out to get out of his chair and the ambulance ride ot the hospital. I do not want to hear of anymore sarcoma, chemotherapy, blood loss, hurt, anguish that has been caused by this devastating disease. I do not want to imagine my bed empty yet another night without his presence.
But it is how it is, and that is my life.
Today I am struggling. It has felt like a struggle as reality sets in that I am so close to the year. It is a disgusting feeling in many ways. I hear that there is relief in getting past that first year, but just the thought of having made it through a year without him is completely depressing.
I have been feeling melancholy with lots of flashbacks, minor anxiety attacks, realizations that there is a lot of grief I’ve tucked under the surface and haven’t dealt with. It is all coming to a head, and now I’m dealing with it hard.
I’m going to go to my 2nd griefshare class tonight, but this time at a different church. I am hoping I will feel more comfortable in this new environment, instead of the anxieties I feel going to LCBC for the class. Pray that continuing with this grief therapy will be a positive step. Tonight will be the deciding factor if I continue this path, or choose to continue to seek Hospice group therapy, or commit to actual pyschology appointments. Either way, the grief is beyond what I can handle in my mind, and I need to reach out. I realize that.
I sat down to my breakfast this morning and I was sitting to drink my coffee, I thought about life once my roommate leaves. She is out of town for a week or so right now, so it gives me an idea of what life will be like without her once she moves away in a month or so. I am excited for her dreams and her future, but nervous for my own.
It will be me, my coffee, and Darrell. It is a hard thought to think about coming home to no one, and I feel blessed to have had a roommate I didn’t know I needed for the past 6 months. She will be leaving just after the year anniversary, so….lots of adjustments ahead.
I’m trekkin’ through as I always do, but this time, I am letting down my game face a bit because the reality of the situation is that I need help. I need faith. I am seeking both, and for once, that feels like the right thing. Not weak, or short lived, but necessary to move forward. I haven’t been embracing life, I’ve been embracing things that gave me momentary highs but no long term hope. It’s time for hope. I miss it. I miss him.