One year removed.
A year ago last month saw me move into my new future of living in Downtown Los Angeles. One year ago this evening, the forward momentum into that future became a path shared without the partner I had hoped and assumed would make the journey. It's been an emotionally bumpy process since. My soul has careened in, well, too many directions at once, as well as not enough directions at all.
But I am making progress.
I have witnessed so much of this past year through her eyes. Month after month, seemingly every little blade of grass, raindrop, or musical note would dredge up a torrent of emotional memories. I was practically experiencing the grief-loss one would associate with the death of a loved one. Silly as it reads when typed out, I felt very much like the inside of my skull was being haunted by her ghost, being conjured by the very sights, sounds, scents, and scenes going on around me.
Though I would hardly consider the process of healing to be complete, I know I am making progress. In the most recent of months, I'm starting to find the still frequent memories and recollections easier to handle. Like a fondness for a far away place once visited, or a meal once shared, I'm starting to catch myself lingering as I think back on how this-or-that memory trigger would have been shared (or even how, say, the recent hot weather would NOT have been) instead of trying to flee from the spectre hiding in each moment.
In the all too soothing words of Dr. Seuss: Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.
And I do find that I'm smiling, just a little bit more, each day.
But I am making progress.
I have witnessed so much of this past year through her eyes. Month after month, seemingly every little blade of grass, raindrop, or musical note would dredge up a torrent of emotional memories. I was practically experiencing the grief-loss one would associate with the death of a loved one. Silly as it reads when typed out, I felt very much like the inside of my skull was being haunted by her ghost, being conjured by the very sights, sounds, scents, and scenes going on around me.
Though I would hardly consider the process of healing to be complete, I know I am making progress. In the most recent of months, I'm starting to find the still frequent memories and recollections easier to handle. Like a fondness for a far away place once visited, or a meal once shared, I'm starting to catch myself lingering as I think back on how this-or-that memory trigger would have been shared (or even how, say, the recent hot weather would NOT have been) instead of trying to flee from the spectre hiding in each moment.
In the all too soothing words of Dr. Seuss: Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.
And I do find that I'm smiling, just a little bit more, each day.