22 July 2010

Pondering the future

As this blog easily shows, there is nothing about my life at this moment that is right.  I was supposed to be a happily married woman with decades of happily-marriedness still to come.  Jerry was supposed to be here.  All the consequences of those things not being true anymore are what my life consists of now, and I hate every single thing about it.

However... this is the way it is now.  And right now I can't begin to imagine how I'm going to get past this and move into any kind of existence that won't be shot through with pain every single instant I'm awake.  But...

... I do know that I am going to have to create some kind of new life for myself.  I read a lot of blogs now, and postings on bulletin boards, all by people who've experienced the death of a spouse or partner at a relatively (relatively!) young age, and I've noticed some people who are now at four years, five years "out," as they put it... and still seem to be wrestling with the intense agony of loss and bereavement, still seem to be waiting for their loved ones to walk in the door, still spend days lying on the floor wailing.  Still seem to be posting on bulletin boards for widowed people.

I do not want to be in that place years from now.  The thought that I might still be feeling this agony years from now is horrifying.  I try to imagine what Jerry would be experiencing if our roles had been reversed, if I had died and Jerry had survived me.  I cannot imagine that he would have spent the rest of his life mired in misery, and I wouldn't have wanted him to.  Jerry found enjoyment and interest in so many things in this life, and was such an optimistic person, that I have to believe he would have been able to find joy again.  And someday I need to be able to do that as well.  Right now, I can't imagine it.  But I know that getting past this pain is an absolute necessity, or what will be the point of continuing to breathe?  I don't know how or when I will get to a place in which Jerry isn't in my thoughts every single waking hour, or when I'll stop missing him so intensely that it's physically painful, or when I'll stop hoping he's really, really going to come back.  But that time has to come.  I have to be open to it coming, and I have to help it get here.  Somehow.

I am not looking for reassurance from anyone that I'll "get through this" - I don't know, no one knows, really, how I'm going to feel, what this journey is going to be like for me, how low the valleys will be, how high the peaks, how long it's going to be before things even out and become more normal.  But that normal place is what I'm aiming for.  That unimaginable place... that may or may not exist.

I don't know.  No one does.  But I have to hope.

4 comments:

  1. I won't give you encouragement that you'll get through this (because you already know that you will, even if you don't know how), but let me offer my perspective from nearly 6 years "out."

    Most of the people on the widow boards who are 3 and 4 and 5 years out (and longer) aren't in constant pain. But when they ARE in pain, they post there, because they know it's safe to. Because most of the people in their "real" worlds don't understand how hearing a particular song can suddenly take your breath away. Or how seeing a beautiful sunset can make your heart break with longing all over again. Or how realizing that this is the anniversary of the day you met, or he was diagnosed, or she found out she was pregnant, or of your last vacation together -- how those otherwise insignificant dates can simply bring you to your knees.

    Most (not all) of the people further out have moved away from the pain, but when the pain catches up, the board or their blogs provides a safe place to talk about it.

    And some of us who are further along keep posting on the widow boards because we have bonded with people there, and it's a way to stay in touch. Or because we recognize how much strength and support we got from those further along, and we want to pay it forward, offer what we can to those who are walking the same road.

    The only advice I have for you is NOT to look too far ahead, NOT to try to imagine yourself in 3 or 4 years. At this point, as you've said, you can't. You're still reeling from the trauma, and if you look to the limitless future, the image of all those days without Jerry in them will simply tear you to shreds.

    So, for now, keep your head down. Look at today, maybe tomorrow. For now, forget about next year. It will come, and the year after it will follow, and you'll look at them when you're ready to.

    -- Wishing you a measure of peace

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  2. Sorry for the response that's as long as your entry! Didn't realize I was being so long-winded!

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  3. Alicia, I appreciate your perspective and your comments (no matter how long!). Thank you.

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  4. Another longer time widow here. Alicia is right about everything. About long term agony, I've tried to explain my own situation this way. The burden of loss is like a heavy purse for me. It was unbearably heavy at first. Made me hurt to carry it. With a little time and experience I have become able to carry it pretty well. You can even set it down and laugh with friends. Just set it down a while pick it up again later. You get stronger. Still, it is always there.

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