Grief is whacky. Sure time ‘helps’ to heal the grieving soul but in actuality, help really isn’t a meaningful verb in context. I lost Irene 6 months ago, and while I don’t walk around the house with a lowered head all the time now, it still does occur. I know when I’m doing it too much when my neck starts to ache from the weight of my bowed head. I am far from grief relief, yet I’m not looking to be rid of it. Grief.
What I feel from losing Irene is unique to me. I’m the only one who feels this way, literally. Others may grieve but even among other individuals grief is different. My grief is different than that of Irene’s parents, and her siblings. Each one of us had an individual connection with her and their grief is unique as well. It’s the same for any relationship in life. The same for you, your loved ones and those you care for dearly.
What next?
I guess I should be thankful for how I feel? Such a dichotomy of answers and conclusions to this one. How could I be thankful? Because I’m still here? How could I not be thankful? Because she was my wife and we lovingly shared most of our lives together, that’s how.
There are so many things that make sense in life, and so many things that utterly do not make sense. Friends and family are always there for support and they definitely help, but the grief does not go away. It’s all in what I do from this point forward.
The ravages of linear time seems to be taking its toll on me and I feel older. I don’t like that. Perhaps I’m simply beginning to feel my actual age, I don’t know.
There are some good days, and there are some bad days. What do I do with them? There are good days with bad moments, and there are some bad days with good moments. Regardless, it’s all rather crappy. How can I eliminate one category and string the desired one in consecutive manner? I cannot. Deal with it.
Loss is loss, and it’s different for all who experience this reality of life. Life is real, and because that is so, death is real too. I am selfish to think that only one of those realities should ever become of me and my existence.
It just, is.
