Sometimes

I feel like if I could just scream loud enough that he''d be able to hear me.

Sometimes I feel like if I could just really believe he was going to walk in the door that he really would.

Sometimes I like to let myself believe it really is a dream, and I will wake up.

Sometimes it helps.

I Can't Even Imagine...

Lately I've noticed myself thinking of an activity we enjoyed and suddenly realizing we will never share it again. It's not a new thing, but it seems to shake me up more lately. Each time this happens it's as if I'd never realized it before, as if I'm learning it for the first time, and I feel a moment of panic. Maybe I'm emerging from some of the deepest denial and numbness and it's gradually beginning to occur to me, I mean really occur to me, that he's actually gone and I just don't know how to process that information yet.

I sometimes wonder what Jeff would be doing if he were in my place. I always imagined he'd cope much better than me, that he'd have handled this much more logically and he'd be a thousand steps further down the road than I am. But after listening to one of his voice mails I realized that I really don't know how he would have reacted. It was one of the last messages he'd left, a week or so before he died. He'd worked late and was letting me know he was on his way home, and as he often did when leaving voice mails, he talked about how much he loved me and how much our relationship meant to him. And he said "I can't even imagine my life without you."

It was something we said often, although we typically meant that we couldn't imagine what our lives would have been like if we'd not met. On occasion we did talk about what we'd do if the worst happened, but unless you've gone through it you can't even begin to guess at how you'll react. One of the most frequent things I've heard from friends or acquaintances who are married, is some variation of, "You're so strong, I could never handle this." Well, I was absolutely certain I wouldn't either. I would be one of those perfectly healthy widows who died shortly after her husband, not for any unknown physical ailment, but simply of grief, because I couldn't go on any longer with a broken heart.

Some days I feel his loss so strongly that it seems like the air is being sucked out of the room and I'm caught in a vacuum and I'm sure that I'm going up to bed for the last time, but no matter how horrible I feel, emotionally or physically, I'm still here. Honestly, nobody is more surprised that I'm still here and in good health than myself... but I don't think it's strength, or that I've found a way to cope, I think my body is just running on some sort of auto pilot and the rest of me has no choice but to go along for the ride.

This isn't unusual, I find. The more I read up on grief and how people respond to it the more I find that I'm not alone, there are countless other widows and widowers who have felt very similar things. It can be comforting to see that, to know that what I'm going though is normal, and that one day I will move forward and integrate these changes into my life.

Yes, that new normal idea again. I couldn't have begun to imagine.

Maybe This Time...

Most nights I walk to the kitchen door and look out at the driveway. I tell myself it's just a routine security check, to make sure all the doors are locked, that everything looks good.

But I hope, each time, that I'll see him getting out of the car. Sometimes I stand there for a moment and ask, "Jeff, where are you? When are you going to get home?"

No, I know. I know.

But it doesn't stop me from thinking that maybe just this once it will be different.

Sometimes

When I read all the notes of encouragement from my friends they are usually doing what they can to reassure me that I can do it, I can make it through this. They tell me how strong I am. I realize I don't necessarily doubt that I can be strong. That I have the ability to get through this. I don't really doubt I have the ability to carry on.

Much of the time the question isn't "How can I make it through this?"  The question is, "Do I want to make it through this?"

I know that I'll carry on, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not planning anything dire. But I have realized that the hardest part of this is not trying to find the strength to carry on, the hardest part is trying to find the reason to carry on.

Sometimes I look through other blogs that were founded with much the same reason behind them as this one, as a healing journal for someone who is newly widowed. Most of them seem to be a way to learn how to cope, a way to try to make sense of what's happened. Many of them, if not most, seem to have been written by women who are dealing not only with their loss, but also with raising their children. There are a lot of feelings that these women express that I completely identify with. The constant feeling of loss, the emptiness, the grief of not having the love of your life by your side. But they also talk about doing their best to hang on and maintain as normal a life as they can for their kids. Their kids are a focus for them, a reason to do what they can to continue moving forward.

I think I'm having a hard time because I haven't been able to find that one thing to that really gives me the incentive to keep going. I've picked little things here and there to try to shift my focus on, and I often tell myself "I have to do it for Jeff. He'd want me to carry on. I have to hang in there to honor him." And that's not a bad thing, it's carried me along for a few months now. But lately I'm realizing that what I need to do is shift that focus back onto myself. If I don't find a reason to carry on for myself then I will never be able to say "Yes, I really want to get through this."

Adding this to my list of things I need to work on. And for now, I will remind myself that this is something he'd want me to do.

Still

I begin to wonder how long it takes before it even starts to sink in that I have to readjust to a new way of life.

I still look at his photo and find it impossible to believe it isn't all a bad dream.

I still think, hope, wish, that I'll wake up and everything will be okay.

I still scream at the universe for taking him away from me. I scream at myself for not finding some way to prevent it. I scream at him for leaving me alone.

I wonder how long it takes before I begin to accept that this is reality.

*sigh*

In the meantime I should consider what to write on the main blog, and what direction I might want to take this one in. And I should consider what direction I want to take my life in. That's a toughie as well.

Ramblings from four and a half months along the way.

Valentine's Day, 4AM

I keep thinking I should write a post on the main blog. I have some ideas in mind. I don't know where to go with them though.

We never did a lot for Valentine's Day. We didn't even usually go out because it was so busy. He did get me a gift a couple of times. One year an amazing gift, one I'll always treasure.

Mostly I just look at the happy hearts and flowers nonsense and feel extra lonely.

Mostly I wonder how long it takes before you don't feel sick and want to cry at least once a day.

I'm afraid the answer is never.