Grieving . . .
Two weeks ago today I lost the love of my life to cancer. My relationship with Al will never end, but in real-time it has, and instead my biggest realtime relationship is with Grief. Just yesterday it occurred to me how my grief is selfish. Mostly, I grieve for what I have lost. My every plan, hope, wish and dream for my future included this man. From the 7 years we had together, I know he shared the same dreams for the future that I did. We dreamed them together.
But I grieve for even the small things, like his inability to read the last book in the King Killer Chronicles; I know he was looking forward to that. But now, if he is in heaven, it is a better place, right? A place where either he knows or will know how the story ends, or he is on a higher plane where such things don't matter. If he is reborn well he can rediscover them in his new life and by the time he is able to read, he won't have to wait for the final book; it will already have been published. And if the dead are not conscious of anything, well then he can't miss it. So in reality, what I grieve for is my inability to share it with him. My loss of the Friday nights that we spent drinking and discussing, well, everything; including the books we shared.
So, in reality, my grief is for myself. I recognize that. But it is so powerful. So demanding. So all-encompassing. If ever I have the right to be selfish, is it not now? I've read so many articles on the internet on grief and the grieving process. Yesterday I came across one that spoke about how the grieving person may need to recount the death and the event leading up to it over and over, but how this is a temporary thing. I know I will need to do some of this. Al's death was not pretty; it was traumatic and not in any way what I expected it to be. Why do I feel I need to talk about it? Why should I force others who knew and cared about him to see that moment? Because it's what I need to get through this grieving process? That, in itself is selfish. And yet, if ever I have the right to be selfish, isn't it now? When my whole world has been shredded and burnt to ashes? Yes. No. I don't know.
I just know that it's what I need to do. I need to express things and so I come to this blog. No one who knew and loved Al knows it exists. Perhaps one day I will share it with them, or perhaps I won't. For now it is my place. A place that I can say and express and feel whatever I feel without worrying about dragging down the others I love. If you choose to read my blog, consider yourself warned. It may be sad and depressing, it may make nonsensical rants, I don't know what's coming. The one thing I do know is that it will be completely self-indulgent and self-centered. It will be about me and what I'm going through and what I need to get out of myself to get through this. It is completely up to you if you want to take this journey with me, but, please, don't give me any grief about it. I already have more than I can handle.
But I grieve for even the small things, like his inability to read the last book in the King Killer Chronicles; I know he was looking forward to that. But now, if he is in heaven, it is a better place, right? A place where either he knows or will know how the story ends, or he is on a higher plane where such things don't matter. If he is reborn well he can rediscover them in his new life and by the time he is able to read, he won't have to wait for the final book; it will already have been published. And if the dead are not conscious of anything, well then he can't miss it. So in reality, what I grieve for is my inability to share it with him. My loss of the Friday nights that we spent drinking and discussing, well, everything; including the books we shared.
So, in reality, my grief is for myself. I recognize that. But it is so powerful. So demanding. So all-encompassing. If ever I have the right to be selfish, is it not now? I've read so many articles on the internet on grief and the grieving process. Yesterday I came across one that spoke about how the grieving person may need to recount the death and the event leading up to it over and over, but how this is a temporary thing. I know I will need to do some of this. Al's death was not pretty; it was traumatic and not in any way what I expected it to be. Why do I feel I need to talk about it? Why should I force others who knew and cared about him to see that moment? Because it's what I need to get through this grieving process? That, in itself is selfish. And yet, if ever I have the right to be selfish, isn't it now? When my whole world has been shredded and burnt to ashes? Yes. No. I don't know.
I just know that it's what I need to do. I need to express things and so I come to this blog. No one who knew and loved Al knows it exists. Perhaps one day I will share it with them, or perhaps I won't. For now it is my place. A place that I can say and express and feel whatever I feel without worrying about dragging down the others I love. If you choose to read my blog, consider yourself warned. It may be sad and depressing, it may make nonsensical rants, I don't know what's coming. The one thing I do know is that it will be completely self-indulgent and self-centered. It will be about me and what I'm going through and what I need to get out of myself to get through this. It is completely up to you if you want to take this journey with me, but, please, don't give me any grief about it. I already have more than I can handle.