“There’s a grief that can’t be spoken. There’s a pain goes on and on.” ~ Les Miserables
I know many of you have felt grief. The deep grief of death. I know it will touch everyone, but right now I wish I could protect every single one of you from this. Let me be the last person to feel this while the rest of you live in happy oblivion.
“They” don’t tell you that you will want to die. You will have to figure out yourself that there’s a difference between “wanting to die” and “being suicidal.” Those around you might not understand that difference, but it’s there. You don’t have to go calling 911 on me.
I have been voracious reading about grief. Much of it is not comforting. It’s daunting to realize there is nothing to be done for me to make this part go faster or just go away. I have to “numb slog” it through this part of life. I have to feel guilty if I smile or if I enjoy something. You can say “Adam would want you to be happy” all you want … it doesn’t make it real for me. Not now.
I talked to Adam out loud today. 17 years. That’s all I got with him in this life. I lived 30 years before him. Maybe I will live 30 years after him. Somewhere in the middle was the gold. I talked about our wedding. We made it everything we wanted it to be. Three years later we used a trip to France for his sister’s wedding for our honeymoon.
I really wanted to bring more humor into this blog but I’m having some trouble finding it. I told Adam today I lost those 10 pounds I always wanted to … and then some … actually about 23 since Sept. 1. He would have been mad at me, saying “this is not the way to lose weight. You have to eat.” I really am trying.
In good news, Adam, we finally got a Keurig. Brenna brought it over. I told her she just didn’t want to feel guilty about the landfill. Not surprisingly, I don’t give a fuck about the landfills or the health of the Earth right now; I just want an easy cup of coffee. I then felt guilt about putting away our coffee pot … the pot you made such good coffee in. This is the irrationality of early grief.
I have to walk the dog. I have to go back to work. I have to eat. All I want to do is live the next minute.