I was going to call this aftershock. The day after a "date" is sometimes worse for me than the day itself. I make plans for that day to buffer the feeling but then the next day comes and what then? I'm still here. Still doing the best I can.
Someone on a FB page talked about the negative loop of loss. Why call it negative? Why not make it a positive. There's that old song line, "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose." Is is bad that I'm still resisting the pressure to let go, move on, forget? Maybe. I don't know. I only know that I'm trying to make my loop of loss positive. I love Artie. He loves me. I miss him terribly. What else? I can do all kinds of things to make his death something that inspires me to honor our love by doing more all the time. I won't deny how I feel. I work hard at not getting locked into sadness at the same time respecting my sadness, my grief. Hello grief. Welcome. I'm going to spend some time with you and then I'm going to go out and play. That feels real to me.
Artie used to sing "As Time Goes By" in my ear and we would dance. And when two lovers woo...they still say I love you...on that you can rely...no matter what the future brings...as time goes by. Time is going by and I still - no matter what the future brings - say "I love you." How could I not?
William Shatner's doing a one man show on Broadway. His last wife, who suffered from alcoholism, died tragically by drowning in their pool. His current wife's husband died of lung cancer. He says they met sharing "grief and a love for horses". They have been married now for 12 years. It's possible. It's always possible. For me, it will happen if and when it happens. If it doesn't happen I will continue to find ways to be content with what I create for myself.
My little granddaughter Gwendy blue eyes grabs my finger and holds on. It feels like love to me, but it is a reflex action. Our first little reflex action is to grab and hold on tight. Yet, she grows and changes every day. Artie's spirit is like my finger is to her. I grab and hold on tight. Yet I grow and change every day. It feels like love to me. Is it a reflex action? I don't know.
Seems like today I am full of questions and short on answers. That's okay. I kept walking past Radio City Music Hall seeing Aretha Franklin's name on the marquee. Yesterday I went to Ticketmaster for a single seat and managed to miraculously get one in the third row. A single seat. I won't be going alone. Artie loved Aretha Franklin. I'm going with a dead man. He's probably busy doing other things but who knows - maybe where he is he still loves to hear her sing.
I've made my grief a public thing but in a lot of ways it's a private thing. People will look at me and think I am sitting in the theater alone. I know I won't be alone, anywhere, any more. At the same time I know that I will be alone everywhere, no matter how many people I am with. That is the puzzlement of grief.
My third wedding anniversay, my third birthday, my third Valentine's Day since Artie died. It didn't get easier, it got harder. I'm still here. That's the important thing. Searching for ways to remind myself I'm still alive and use that time in the best way. You can all come to hear Aretha sing with me if you want. I'll sit by myself and no one will know I'm a crowd! I hope each of you finds a song to sing today that brings a smile - and if it brings tears - how many teardrops make a rainbow? xo
Post a Comment