Heart shattering bereavement.
In fourteen days I will begin one more year. The past 351 days have been filled with loss, grief, joy, love, friendship, gut wrenching pain, laughter, tears, the loss of normal and the arduous journey to create a new life with a new normal and with no idea of how or where to begin. For the past 351 days I've been "winging it" and hoping that I'm getting something right. Nearly each day that has passed since November 5th, 2016 has been full of grief, hope, self-doubt, immeasurable love and horrific, through to my core, terror. Terror of failing to find my way through the thick, suffocating blackness I found myself choking on that fateful Saturday night three hundred and fifty one days ago.
Bereavement.
When Marc first died I was numb and very little made sense to me; I still have difficulty remembering things from the first few months. During the early days following his death I remember having to assure people that I would not hurt myself....you know, that I wouldn't go to sleep with the intent of never waking up. To be honest, those assurances were sincere, I did not think that killing myself would serve any purpose.
Bereavement.
Thoughts of ending the relentless physical pain in my chest didn't enter my mind until I moved back to Florida. It was when I actually had to begin moving forward with life that the cold truth of my being alone struck me. It struck me in a way that was incomprehensible. The reality hit me hard... like an iron fist to the jaw... and when it struck me I began to question the point of my continued existence. What could possibly be the point of waking up tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that? I honestly didn't know. I was more alone than I have ever felt in my entire life. Yes, I had my friends and my family, but the loneliness I was feeling after losing my partner of 23 years is the deepest loneliness I've ever known.
Bereavement. Day by painful day of gut wrenching, soul shredding bereavement.
During those blackest times I did not confide in anyone just how dark my thoughts had turned. Instead, I told myself I'd give it one more day... the physical pain I was experiencing was crushing me. Every. single. day. I woke up feeling trapped and hopeless. My real life had become an actual living nightmare and I couldn't see a way out of it. My days were one long, continuous nightmare with no end in sight. It is impossible for me to pinpoint any specific day or time when I stopped thinking about slipping permanently into the darkness.
Bereavement.
The pain in my chest is still here but it has lessened. Each day that passes is still a question, "Will today be a good day, or will today be a bad day?" The bad days are the days when I can't catch my breath. On the bad days, tears come without warning. The bad days catch me off guard and I find myself feeling as though whatever forward ground I thought I had made is in danger of slipping completely away from me. Losing ground frightens me. Frightens the hell out of me, but fear is a liar and one thing I cannot tolerate is a liar. Thankfully, the bad days are becoming fewer and farther between.
351 days of bereavement.
Will I ever stop counting the days? I don't know if I'll ever stop counting, but I'm grateful that I'm still here to count the days if I so choose.
Bereavement.
When Marc first died I was numb and very little made sense to me; I still have difficulty remembering things from the first few months. During the early days following his death I remember having to assure people that I would not hurt myself....you know, that I wouldn't go to sleep with the intent of never waking up. To be honest, those assurances were sincere, I did not think that killing myself would serve any purpose.
Bereavement.
Thoughts of ending the relentless physical pain in my chest didn't enter my mind until I moved back to Florida. It was when I actually had to begin moving forward with life that the cold truth of my being alone struck me. It struck me in a way that was incomprehensible. The reality hit me hard... like an iron fist to the jaw... and when it struck me I began to question the point of my continued existence. What could possibly be the point of waking up tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that? I honestly didn't know. I was more alone than I have ever felt in my entire life. Yes, I had my friends and my family, but the loneliness I was feeling after losing my partner of 23 years is the deepest loneliness I've ever known.
Bereavement. Day by painful day of gut wrenching, soul shredding bereavement.
During those blackest times I did not confide in anyone just how dark my thoughts had turned. Instead, I told myself I'd give it one more day... the physical pain I was experiencing was crushing me. Every. single. day. I woke up feeling trapped and hopeless. My real life had become an actual living nightmare and I couldn't see a way out of it. My days were one long, continuous nightmare with no end in sight. It is impossible for me to pinpoint any specific day or time when I stopped thinking about slipping permanently into the darkness.
Bereavement.
The pain in my chest is still here but it has lessened. Each day that passes is still a question, "Will today be a good day, or will today be a bad day?" The bad days are the days when I can't catch my breath. On the bad days, tears come without warning. The bad days catch me off guard and I find myself feeling as though whatever forward ground I thought I had made is in danger of slipping completely away from me. Losing ground frightens me. Frightens the hell out of me, but fear is a liar and one thing I cannot tolerate is a liar. Thankfully, the bad days are becoming fewer and farther between.
351 days of bereavement.
Will I ever stop counting the days? I don't know if I'll ever stop counting, but I'm grateful that I'm still here to count the days if I so choose.
