(no subject)
Grief, being the sly bastard it is, sneaks up on you sometimes. I'm struggling with so many things right now and the grief makes things so much harder. I'm constantly reminded of what I no longer have and tired of being served up platitudes consisting of things like "It will get better", "Live in the present" and "If something's no longer in your life, you don't really need it". Most days I walk around in a quiet rage frustrated by the death of my husband, dealing with the loss of my brother-in-law because of a mistake I made, but still have no idea what I said, that I will most likely never be forgiven for. Please don't tell me to forget about it, because I can't. Please don't tell me it's about him and not me because I caused him pain, somehow, and that just plain hurts because that's the last thing I wanted to do. I fucked up. I miss my family. Don't tell me it gets better with time, because sometimes it doesn't. I am very grateful for Howard, make no mistake, but his love does not take away the pain and never will. I love my daughter and applaud her progress through the hell of loss and also feel so sad when I look into her eyes and feel Liam lurking behind them. Her sense of humor, the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles, the goofy way she acts, her love of music are all reflections of him and those things both make me smile and make me ache.
A friend of mine talked recently in her space about wanting 15 more minutes with her loved one and I get that so very much. 15 minutes seems like so very little time. You can't make love in just 15 minutes, can't take a good long walk, can't go to the beach. But you can hold each other, you can have just one more kiss, you can tell each other what your love means. 15 minutes to have him make me laugh and make a comment about Schmedley, his somewhat affectionate nickname for his brother, would make it so much better. 15 minutes to let my tongue find that gap between those two teeth in the back of his mouth. Most days I muddle through but some days are just plain horrible. I don't say much about it here or in real life because I'm tired of explaining why I haven't "gotten over it". After all it's been 10+ years and I'm apparently supposed to put my life with him in a box and just move on. Really? Well maybe some people do but I can't. I still hear his voice in my head. Still hear his laugh. I can still remember what it feels like to trace that line of hair down the middle of his chest. Can still feel the skin of his tattoo under my fingers.
It's not that I want to dwell in the past but I'm so fucking tired of people telling me that the past doesn't matter. Really? The past shapes who we are, who I am. Liam's part in my life made me a better person. How can anyone forget someone like that? He wasn't perfect and I'm not idolizing him. There were days we fought hard and long about trivial shit and yet, we were finding our way back. Perhaps that is what hurts most of all, that we were finding our way back.
So sometimes, on days like today, even though I'm trying very hard to focus on the good things, the grief wells up like lava between the cracks of a volcano. How proud would he have been of his daughter? How different would our family configuration have been? What would our lives be shaped like? Where would we be now? I do my best to be mindful of where I am now and who I am with but on days like today, it hurts so very much.
A friend of mine talked recently in her space about wanting 15 more minutes with her loved one and I get that so very much. 15 minutes seems like so very little time. You can't make love in just 15 minutes, can't take a good long walk, can't go to the beach. But you can hold each other, you can have just one more kiss, you can tell each other what your love means. 15 minutes to have him make me laugh and make a comment about Schmedley, his somewhat affectionate nickname for his brother, would make it so much better. 15 minutes to let my tongue find that gap between those two teeth in the back of his mouth. Most days I muddle through but some days are just plain horrible. I don't say much about it here or in real life because I'm tired of explaining why I haven't "gotten over it". After all it's been 10+ years and I'm apparently supposed to put my life with him in a box and just move on. Really? Well maybe some people do but I can't. I still hear his voice in my head. Still hear his laugh. I can still remember what it feels like to trace that line of hair down the middle of his chest. Can still feel the skin of his tattoo under my fingers.
It's not that I want to dwell in the past but I'm so fucking tired of people telling me that the past doesn't matter. Really? The past shapes who we are, who I am. Liam's part in my life made me a better person. How can anyone forget someone like that? He wasn't perfect and I'm not idolizing him. There were days we fought hard and long about trivial shit and yet, we were finding our way back. Perhaps that is what hurts most of all, that we were finding our way back.
So sometimes, on days like today, even though I'm trying very hard to focus on the good things, the grief wells up like lava between the cracks of a volcano. How proud would he have been of his daughter? How different would our family configuration have been? What would our lives be shaped like? Where would we be now? I do my best to be mindful of where I am now and who I am with but on days like today, it hurts so very much.