Kate: A man was killed right in front of me he died in my arms and I thought it cant end just like that on Valentine’s day and I thought about all other people who love him waiting at home, who will never see him again. Then I thought what if there is no one. What if you live your whole life and no one is waiting?
The Lake House
The Lake House
"I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself."
David Herbert Lawrence
In this world of loss, of grief, I am trying with every fiber in my being to not feel sorry for myself. Feeling sorry for oneself is not how one moves forward in life.
35 days. It has been 35 days since Marc died and each day that passes I struggle to make sense of tomorrow. How do you makes sense of loss? Loss. The word means so much and yet it is so inadequate a descriptive for what it truly means. One tiny little word, yet it is meant to qualify so many levels of what has been lost. One tiny little word that is supposed to explain all of the many levels of grief. How do you explain loss?
Since Marc died, so many friends have reached out, trying to offer comfort and trying to help ease the pain in my heart - the pain in my soul. The kindness, the loving words, the gentleness in each word from each person has been touching and so very appreciated. Grief, however, cannot be assuaged by words, we all wish they could be but they cannot. With that being said, don't allow that fact to keep you from reaching out when someone you care about loses a person they love. There aren't words that can ease the pain, the fog that sets in cannot be penetrated by any word in the English language. Later though, once the fog begins to lift, the words others share still won't ease the pain but they do fill you with love.
Since Marc's death I have been trying to navigate my way through the fog of this grief that has consumed me. Each time I think the fog is lifting and I can see clearly, I make the mistake of blinking. I blink and then the fog is rolling over me all over again. That moment of clarity I had before I blinked is gone and I am never quite sure if I'll ever have clarity again.
Clarity, one of the many aspects of that tiny little word "Loss". How does a person move forward when nothing is clear, when the fog is swirling around you? No one can offer advice or answers for me. Even if someone tries, their answers would mean nothing to me. Only I can find the answers, but at this moment, I don't know the answer and I've tried with earnest to answer that question.
In this world of loss, of grief, I am trying with every fiber in my being to not feel sorry for myself. Feeling sorry for oneself is not how one moves forward in life.
35 days. It has been 35 days since Marc died and each day that passes I struggle to make sense of tomorrow. How do you makes sense of loss? Loss. The word means so much and yet it is so inadequate a descriptive for what it truly means. One tiny little word, yet it is meant to qualify so many levels of what has been lost. One tiny little word that is supposed to explain all of the many levels of grief. How do you explain loss?
Since Marc died, so many friends have reached out, trying to offer comfort and trying to help ease the pain in my heart - the pain in my soul. The kindness, the loving words, the gentleness in each word from each person has been touching and so very appreciated. Grief, however, cannot be assuaged by words, we all wish they could be but they cannot. With that being said, don't allow that fact to keep you from reaching out when someone you care about loses a person they love. There aren't words that can ease the pain, the fog that sets in cannot be penetrated by any word in the English language. Later though, once the fog begins to lift, the words others share still won't ease the pain but they do fill you with love.
Since Marc's death I have been trying to navigate my way through the fog of this grief that has consumed me. Each time I think the fog is lifting and I can see clearly, I make the mistake of blinking. I blink and then the fog is rolling over me all over again. That moment of clarity I had before I blinked is gone and I am never quite sure if I'll ever have clarity again.
Clarity, one of the many aspects of that tiny little word "Loss". How does a person move forward when nothing is clear, when the fog is swirling around you? No one can offer advice or answers for me. Even if someone tries, their answers would mean nothing to me. Only I can find the answers, but at this moment, I don't know the answer and I've tried with earnest to answer that question.
2 comments:
Dearest friend, I have known in my lifetime that I heard angels speaking. I have believed that my "lost" son was with Jesus, because Christopher and Jesus came to visit in a dream together one night. The experience left me cold and angry, as Christopher was happy with Jesus, and gone from me. It was only the beginning of a long, downward spiral into anger with God, and ultimately, with myself. I came to think of people who believed in God and an afterlife as "delusional". Finally, I got to the point that I did not believe in God at all. Only recently have I began the journey into belief again.
When I think back on some experiences, there can only be called miracles. Right before Christopher died, I had written a little play for my kids and my nieces and nephews to perform for the family called, "The Snow Child". In summary, an old couple build a snowchild and it comes to life, only to leave every spring, and be reborn again every winter. Christopher played the snowchild. The day of his funeral, the large extended family was seated around the dining room table, and suddenly, the dining room windows sprang open, and the most huge snowflakes you can imagine started falling from the sky. I knew it was a message from Christopher that he was okay, and that I would see him again.
Another thing that happened was that I was sleeping, dreaming that all my children were playing together in the room. When I awoke, Kathleen and Austin were there, playing on the floor, talking to Christopher as though they could see him. I knew he was there.
As I said, I lost faith in all these things. I lost faith in God. I lost faith in life itself. I went out in the hills all alone and I screamed his name at the top of my lungs, wishing he would answer.
I am so glad that you and Marc had such a wonderful life together. That is the most that any of us can hope for, a beautiful life as long as it lasts. I am so sorry for your pain. I hope the moments that you know Marc is there stick with you.
I used to snuggle with his shirts, and literally ache to hold him again. I felt my very soul was trailing out behind me, visible to the world to see. Grief is a very long process, and I am not sure that it ever ends. I do not know what you are going through, I only know what I went through, and I cry for you often because I can only imagine the depth of the pain you are feeling.
I am also glad that you are celebrating the life he had. It appears to have been a good one. The love the two of you shared is so obvious in the photographs you have taken. Let that lift you up!
I do hope that you will remember all the stories people have of their good times together with Marc. Perhaps included in your journal you could record the best and brightest memories that the two of you shared. I believe you have started doing that already. Bright times help override the darkness.
More than all, remember that there are so many people who hold you near and dear to their heart. I myself am only a phone call away.
All my love and best wishes to you.
Di-I can't believe you can even put words together to write about such a private, excruciating pain and loss. The fog is first(in my experience). It's like you are just going through the motions. I can't imagine losing my partner, that's a whole level of grief I can't wrap my head around. Hartley and I got married 11 months before you and Marc I have a sense of how long your love was, through good times and bad, sickness and health, etc. so I am so sorry and love that you are writing about your journey. We will all be there someday...Marc is gone too soon..
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