Moving Forward While Looking Back
My oldest son died last year too. I had everything in his name as I was sure I would go first and he could handle things fairly. Losing a child is a similar, but different kind of grief from losing a treasured spouse. Both are so devastating and yet life goes on. The mountains haven’t changed. The sun still rises. The sky still turns beautiful colors at times with one less person to see and appreciate them. The house is empty without my sweetheart in it. Nothing I can do, say, offer, will bring him back. Eternity never seemed so immense or uncaring.
I can’t expect anyone who hasn’t been thru it to understand and they don’t and I hope they never have to, but if they love, it is the price they or the one they love will someday pay and while worth it, I keep wishing I had just one more day with my beloved, while knowing that isn’t going to happen. Sort of like the alcoholic for whom “one drink is too many and a hundred not enough.”
This grief makes no sense to me. I’m learning to focus on friends and on positive things in my life, but there is always that secret part in my heart that is healing, but ever aware of loss and wonders where I fit in this new paradigm—this time and space in between what was and what is. We truly were synergistic and now I need to learn to be whole as one. I am grateful for each day, but I am forever changed.
What’s ahead? I have learned to be independent. I love my dear friends and family. New adventures await. It is still “my time” to be here and to find where I fit and who within this context I might be able to help. I am eager to find a new and joyful “now.”
Is there a risk in that? Of course! That’s part of the adventure held in the future that I now feel strong enough and positive enough to experience and handle, hopefully with grace.