Day 370

Grief is ever evolving. It’s not just the initial loss. Though that is the picture we attach to said grief. It’s two to three losses a day. A hundred a month. And thousands within a year. It’s standing in line at the check out counter laughing to yourself about an inside joke you had with someone you were once inseparable with but now couldn’t even text about it. It’s time hop reminding you of great points in your life and a small piece of you screaming in the deafening silence.

Lately I have realized how much loss I have really experienced in the past year. Loss of him, friends, home, stability, loss of myself. How many times can I be Madonna until it’s old even to me. I was panicking about a week ago over social security stuff. I grabbed my phone only to put it back down.

“ I have no one.”

This is not a blame situation at all. You gave up on me and listen, I gave up on you. I walked away so consumed with grief and suicidal idealization that I could not see I was even doing it. I look at pictures of my life just a year and a half ago. I was surrounded by friends that I showed up for and showed up for me. These days I barely show up for myself. My only solace is seeing post by fellow widows saying exactly what I have been feeling but thought should not be said out loud.

What do you do when suddenly you’re awake? So many fucking awakenings over the months. I’m tired of waking up to pain.

I found out today that our neighbor passed away. He was older. Had lived a full life. Some would say it was gods grace that took him before it became difficult to just be. Immediately I thought of his wife. How little she could understand the excruciating nights ahead. I wanted  to come straight home and hug her. (I don’t even know this woman). At the same time I remembered how that first month is so painful that you just are. Like a buoy just along for the ride as the waves toss you here and there.

When I got home there she was. Walking her dog so deep in the fog. We offered to help in anyway she could think and then just like that she went inside.

“She will be ok. In the end we all will ok. ” I reassured myself turning to a screaming one year old.

“Darkness exists to make light truly count.”

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