No one writes stories about women like me. My life has been a good life but it has not been the kind of life that leaves a mark in history or has changed the world in a way that the masses would notice or, for that matter, care. No one writes stories about a woman whose life was unremarkable to the world. Women like me, we write stories about our unremarkable lives. Women like me, we write stories about how remarkable our unremarkable life is.
It has been two years and 4 months since his death. In less than 10 days it will be Marc's birthday. Marc would have been 55 this year and I always believed we would be celebrating that day together. Believing wasn't enough because the Fates had something else planned.
As time passes I find myself making peace with the fact that celebrations with Marc will never again happen. Yes it makes me sad, but I am finding my way through the sadness and coming around to the place in my life that almost feels as though it could resemble something that others might assume is normal. What others might assume is some kind of happy.
"Let yourself be happy." Well meaning people have said that phrase to me multiple times since Marc died. I realize it isn't meant to sound critical, but it feels critical when I hear it. When people tell me to let myself be happy I feel as though I must defend my grief. It feels as though my grief is unremarkable and has a timer on it. There is no timer on grief, I believe it changes over time but it stays with you always. Trust me when I say, I want to be happy; it isn't that I am unhappy, people just assume that my sadness, my aloneness equates to unhappy. I am not unhappy, I am sad, big difference.
Grief, life shattering loss .... leaves you in a fog of sorts. A thick, smothering haze that seems to fill every cell of your being and trying to feel anything beyond the sadness and the aloneness is difficult. Every now and then I can see a shimmer of bits and pieces of the old me through the haze. I will never be the same as I was and that is okay. I'm okay with being different than I was because I understand being the same woman will never be possible again. Life is fleeting, I know this, and as time slips past me it is gradually becoming easier to imagine a future that includes a full night of sleep and to once again wake up feeling excited about the day ahead of me. From where I sit, that feels remarkable.
It has been two years and 4 months since his death. In less than 10 days it will be Marc's birthday. Marc would have been 55 this year and I always believed we would be celebrating that day together. Believing wasn't enough because the Fates had something else planned.
As time passes I find myself making peace with the fact that celebrations with Marc will never again happen. Yes it makes me sad, but I am finding my way through the sadness and coming around to the place in my life that almost feels as though it could resemble something that others might assume is normal. What others might assume is some kind of happy.
"Let yourself be happy." Well meaning people have said that phrase to me multiple times since Marc died. I realize it isn't meant to sound critical, but it feels critical when I hear it. When people tell me to let myself be happy I feel as though I must defend my grief. It feels as though my grief is unremarkable and has a timer on it. There is no timer on grief, I believe it changes over time but it stays with you always. Trust me when I say, I want to be happy; it isn't that I am unhappy, people just assume that my sadness, my aloneness equates to unhappy. I am not unhappy, I am sad, big difference.
Grief, life shattering loss .... leaves you in a fog of sorts. A thick, smothering haze that seems to fill every cell of your being and trying to feel anything beyond the sadness and the aloneness is difficult. Every now and then I can see a shimmer of bits and pieces of the old me through the haze. I will never be the same as I was and that is okay. I'm okay with being different than I was because I understand being the same woman will never be possible again. Life is fleeting, I know this, and as time slips past me it is gradually becoming easier to imagine a future that includes a full night of sleep and to once again wake up feeling excited about the day ahead of me. From where I sit, that feels remarkable.
