Ongoing Grief

Five years without him. 

I had a lot of ideas of what this would be like, especially early on when I didn’t understand what I needed to do and where it would take me. Looking back now, I have to shake my head. Unbelievably, if I knew nothing then, I know even less now.

Maybe that worries me. I am known to tackle things. Look at issues head on. Push on and drive forward. I don’t stop.

All that requires an objective or at least a waypoint. Grief is a dangerous fog that obscures my line of sight and gives me false markers. I still find myself running around in circles at times. Without him here to help me find my way, I easily get lost. I haven’t quite figured out how to do all this on my own just yet. I wonder if I ever will.

 And the effort it takes. Like constantly trying to push a rope while I juggle the life outside of myself as a mother, worker, daughter, sister, friend. 

Grief has permanently threaded itself around my inner world and is mostly unknown in the outer world. No one told me about this part early on and I don’t know if I would have believed them if they had. I carry my unseen widow with me everywhere. Sometimes she’s quiet, tucked away in a dark place that I had forgotten about for a moment. Other times she’s sitting on my chest, shutting out the rest of the world, and demanding all of me.

I’ve come to accept that this will never change. She will never go away and that’s OK. It’s who I am now, helping inform my decisions to find love and light in my world. The most important thing is that I can’t let it stop me. I just have to learn to carry her. Sometimes gently and sometimes not.