“Time moves slow
When half of your heart has yet to come home
Every minute’s adding up
And leaves a mark on us”
~Sleeping at Last
I wanted to make something for you. My art tends to be selfish. I make random depictions of pain cause by the lack of you but this time I wanted to make something that was because you existed. Whether still filled with pain or not, I focused on keeping you in the forefront of these conceptions.
Virginia has created a space for me to do this. In the past few weeks I have branched out creatively. I use tools! Your tools. I swear I hear you laughing every time I grab one and say “What the hell does this do?” Those times when I walk into a Home Depot just trying to find the right wood for the idea deep in my subconscious or a level to evenly hang my most favorite creations (listen those are hidden and it took me a solid 30 minutes to get the courage to ask anyone in the store only to be told they were LITERALLY right behind me).
Like lava my grief is creeping. Destroying to make anew. This is not a bad thing. Not to me at least. I feel the purge but with whole new eyes. I’m in a constant state of destruction and construction. Exactly what your life was about. Entirely.
I keep thinking back to last year when I thought I was well….. better. I thought I had processes in place that would withstand the months to come. I thought I had “figured out this grief thing” What I failed to recognize is that grief grows as I do. Molds itself into whatever form hurts me most in that very second. I had many months of stuffing and combusting randomly at work. However I was blessed to be surrounded in love that allowed me to disintegrate for a few minutes only to bring myself back better than before. Even if we all knew inevitably it would return. On the way to work last week I felt that old familiar feeling. I cried in complete desperation to let it out, well as much as I could, whispering a prayer that I did not fall to pieces in a place I cannot. This new life I have created is to separate my widowhood from daily life. Not infiltrate it into all parts of my being. Don’t get me wrong it’s not that I don’t recognize or respect my place in the universe as a widow but I am so so so much more than I previously allowed myself to be. Leaving work I realized I made it. Not only made it but I felt accomplished. Instead of stuffing I, for once, acknowledged the pain upon arrival and honored it in a healthier way. Much more conducive to what society asks of me while still holding that reverence necessary to my inner self.
Pain brings beauty. Stepping into the darkness does not mean you’re giving up or are waning in the slightest. For me it was standing tall after years crawling. It was confessing where I had the sense of failing myself and forgiving those shortcomings. Looking around and welcoming myself to be proud of all I had manifested when I had been drowning in doubt.
Currently figuring this grief thing is saying thank you in the hard times. I am growing. Constantly. Saying thank you when the kids do something and all I want is to turn to you with a smile. Repeating thank you when tears of joy stream down my face as I drive through the woods. Say thank you when I am able to show up as the employee, friend, and mother I have wanted to be. Above all though putting in the action to show that gratitude. It’s true that faith without works is dead and NOTHING about my faith is dead.
I hope my creations speak to you. I pray that they bring the peace and healing I have been hunting these past 20 months. I love you so much babe. I promised I would make you proud and I can feel it. I know it’s close. Thank you for making me yours so I could in turn find me.
@sleepingatlast lyrics @eliciaedijanto illustration
optimisticwidow.com 