The Calendar Paradox

 Here's a secret that those of us living with grief share: some dates on the calendar loom much too large.  We both live for these key moments of memory and dread them.  I am always keenly aware of upcoming dates that were significant to Daniel and me.

I plan months in advance how I will deal with them.  If I am invited somewhere within the nearby timeframe I am always questioning myself.  Will I be ok by then? What might happen to trigger tears? How can I just act normal when my world is so upside down?

Today is my 15th wedding anniversary.  I believe this one is the crystal anniversary.  But instead of drinking champagne out of crystal glasses with the love of my life, I planned on hiding from the world under blankets in bed.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with hiding.  Sometimes we just need to escape and be alone with our thoughts and the bittersweet memories.  Sweet, for sure, because in these memories we can see our loved ones again and be with them.  But bitter too, as they are finite.  We can never make even one more memory together.

Yes, I had planned on hiding alone at home, listening to old favorite songs and watching Princess Bride, one of "our" movies.  However, this day had other plans for me.  Instead I found myself in the car making the two hour drive to one of our favorite vacation spots.  The last vacation we ever took together was here for an anniversary celebration.

I can't say why I needed to be outside in the fresh air this year.  It just felt right.  I've spent the day visiting our favorite spots and getting the traditional chocolate covered strawberries to celebrate.

This year, instead of sitting on the darkness writing my thoughts here through streaming tears, I am writing this sitting on bench under the trees.  The same bench and the same trees that Daniel has kissed me under so many times.  Oh, there has still been some tears for sure, but the memories have been more sweet than bitter.

I love you forever Daniel.  I will always be your bride.

That's My Secret, Cap

In the Avengers movie, Bruce Banner has a line where he explains to Captain America, "That's my secret, Cap.  I'm always angry." Like Dr. Banner, I may look like everything is back to normal on the outside but I too have a secret.  Just like a hulk lurking under the surface, grief is a constant companion for  me.

Sadness has become a second skin.  I guess I did not realize how much so until I tried to take it off.  I've made changes in my life to move towards being happy again.  I have a beautiful new apartment in an amazing new city.  I have wonderful new friends and fun new hobbies.  Yet no matter what I try, I find that happiness fits me like a dress I've outgrown.  It's tight and it pinches.

I don't mean to say that I am not ever happy.  I am so fortunate to have many things in my life that bring me joy.  In many ways, this new life is almost everything that I ever dreamed of having.  But there is no denying that it feels wrong.  Yes, I am aware that it shouldn't.  Daniel devoted his life to making me happy and I know that is what he would want for me now.

Yet, I can't stop thinking about how much he would have enjoyed these things and it hurts to do them without him.  No matter how great things are, I know in my heart that it would be better if he were here with me.  His absence casts a shadow over every smile.  I miss him every single day and nothing can fill the hole that his death has left behind.

There is also some guilt involved.  It's really super hard to enjoy life without feeling guilty.  Logically I know that I cannot spend the rest of my life in a tear-filled vigil for him, nor would he want that.  But my heart still holds me as traitor for every moment of peace that I find.

It's so easy to be sad.  It's like a warm, comfortable coat that protects me from letting other people in and from really living life.   That's my secret.  I'm always sad.

Being happy is hard.  I have experienced true, blissful happiness with Daniel and now I don't know how to do it without him.  And honestly, I know that I will be sad for the rest of my days.  But I have to think that maybe I can squeeze in some room for happiness along side the sadness.

I love you Daniel.  And I will never stop.

Empty

The Road Forward

My darling boy, another year has started without you and it hits me anew how lonely this road is when you are not beside me.  In just a couple of weeks, it will be 2 years since you left.  24 months.  104 weeks.  730 days. 175,520 hours. In every minute of that time, my heart has called out for you.

There are days when I am terrified that I am moving too far away from you.  I moved to a house you never lived in.  I started a job that you never heard about.  I have seen TV shows you never watched.  I have made friends you never met.  I play games you never got to enjoy.  My life is almost unrecognizable at times.  Even the person I see in the mirror looks so different.

 It seems surreal that life should continue when you are gone. I am still getting to know this new me that lives a life without you.  There are times that it is scary as hell. I am often tempted to stay in place and keep everything exactly the same as if it might keep me close to you but I know now that it is impossible. Your death has changed me in the most profound ways and I can never go back.

Without a doubt, losing you has diminished who I was.  But it has also given me a new perspective.  I now really understand that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed and that our world can change in any instant.  Things that seemed important before have become trivial and the small things that I put off until later are now much more vital.   I feel free to just be in the moment and less worried about tomorrow.

Babe, I know you so well.  I know exactly what you would say.  In fact, I can practically hear your voice in my ear every day encouraging me to move forward full force and tilt at windmills, dance in the rain, and take chances.  I am just now getting that my fear of moving too far away from you is simply crazy.  That would be as impossible as walking away from my own heartbeat.  Knowing that you will always be with me on the journey makes taking each new step possible.

I love you Daniel.