.... Sybil.
I very often feel like I have a split personality.
I have passed the three year mark. I find these words difficult to absorb even as I type them. Hell, I never expected to live out the first year. And then I knew I wouldn't survive the second. I often thought that it was a shame that I couldn't just "think myself" to death. In fact, there were many days when I was surprised to find that I couldn't.
But here I am .... three years out.
With a split personality .... sometimes.
Life is getting "better".
I now smile and laugh readily.
My depressingly sad moments don't take an entire day (or week) to get through.
I am in a relationship.
And yet .... I still want Jim.
I still am brought to tears at the thought of his absence sometimes.
On New Year's Eve I was holding hands with a man who loves me.
But tears were pouring down my face because I wasn't with Jim.
One moment I feel fine. Good, in fact.
And the next, I'm grieving again for what will never be.
I still do not look very far into the future.
I do better to focus on one day at a time, as do most "new" widows, probably.
The future was ripped away so I'm not sure when I'll be able to peer into it again.
But I'm ready to be happy.
I'm ready to live fully.
I'm ready to blend my personalities.
Damnit! He's been dead for THREE years.
It's time for me to look my grief straight in its face and let it know that it will not control me.
It won't cripple me.
It won't keep me from living.
It will not define me.
Jim wouldn't want that for me any more than I'd want that for him.
But I do acknowledge that it will always be a part of me.
My grief will be a beautiful part of me because it's about Jim and he was a beautiful part of me.
He made me feel beautiful.
And loved.
Very, very loved .... and secure in every way.
My grief has softened me .... into a more compassionate person.
But it's also hardened me .... and let me know that I can endure anything.
All in all, it's made me a better person (in most ways).
So I will wear my grief proudly.
As one who loved and was loved beyond all reason.
And I will live positively.
As one who is sure that the love in her heart will never die .... not until she breathes her last breath.
There are two cups that sit on my dresser.
One reads, "Death Sucks".
The other reads, "Life is Good" (I just bought it this past weekend).
Yes .... after three years I can finally say ....
that death DOES suck ..... but life IS good.
4 comments:
Where's the "like" button? ;o)
So glad to read all this from you, Janine, and I remember being in exactly the same place...although at just past the 3-year mark, I don't think I had anywhere near the same amount of positivity about it all. Then again, I think much of my grief was delayed, and I was in a better spot at the 2-year mark than I was going into the 3-year mark. Everyone's different, huh?
The crazy part is that you're already past where I was one I likely first "met" you...or at least when I started blogging. I started my blog about 3 months before the 3rd anniversary, and I know I "met" you (and Melodie, and Jackie, and Stacey/Snickollet, and I don't even remember who all else) through Matt's blog sometime around then. It's weird to think you're now where I was then.
Happy New Year!
Love,
Candice
Janine, what a beautiful post, thank you for sharing your words with us. Today I really needed to read them. You vocalize so well what it is that we feel, what we go through. I'm thankful that you are in my life x
I am not sure if I've commented before, but I have checked into your blog a lot over the past three years. I just wanted to say that I'm not a widow, but I get it. I'm divorced (now 8 years) after having been married 17 (and with husband 2 years before that). I am also in a relationship (4 yrs) but have the same experiences you describe. The divorce wasn't my choice. It happened very quickly (went from "everything's perfect" to divorce in 6 months). I no longer have panic attacks, I no longer fall apart for weeks, but I do have moments--almost daily--of pain, regret, longing for life as I knew it and mourning the family life that we had. I don't have any answers, but I guess it has to do with shock and grief and that most difficult task of letting go and moving on. I don't have the buttons, but I guess mine would read this way: "Divorce Sucks." And of course, "Life is Good."
I haven't commented in a while, but this post made me have to reach out. It's beautiful and sad and strong and real and perfect. I'm happy for you. Not at all that you had to write it or for what you had to go through to get here, but happy that you can write it now. It's one of the best posts I've read from anyone in a long time.
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