Accepting What Is

I am following an online "seminar" called 12 weeks of peace.  It's based on grief, losing a loved one, and how to move on in life.  (If you're grieving, or having trouble getting past some old grief, click here and sign up. )  Each week there's a lesson for the upcoming days - one for each day.  The first few weeks were "easy" for me, because I was already doing many of their suggestions:  writing in a journal, creating a website, posting photos, etc. 

The harder part has been what happens after some time goes by.  It's like no one wants me to talk about Brian, or maybe in their own grief path, they're not ready to hear about him.

This week's lesson included the following:

"There is no guarantee that you will to heal. No book, pamphlet, or poem can ensure it… only you can.

Healing is a choice, and not healing is a choice.

There are so many resources available, and you can choose to take advantage of them when you’re ready. You can choose to remain open to the ones around you. It will not be easy, but that just tells you how significant your loved one IS (not was) to you. Be the fighter they want you to be, and choose to face your pain. Every day it will get a little easier, until suddenly it’s bearable. And you can enjoy your life again."

Brian's last words to me mentioned that I'm a strong person and to be strong for him.  Some days it's harder than other days.  But each day I try.  Some days I fail.  But I pick up the pieces and continue on.   It' the little things that help.  Today, I walked in a park that Brian and I frequented.  Yesterday, I planted some spring flowers in the backyard.  Even though he's not here to help, I moved forward on getting the roof replaced.  I don't always want to do what needs doing.  Some days, I just sit on the couch and veg.  But then I remember that things need to be done, and I'm the one who has to do it.  

It's not easy accepting that he's gone, never coming back

It's not easy letting go of what happened, letting go of the "what if's"

So I'm left with having faith in what will be

And that has to be enough

Another Saturday

Dear Brian:

Here we are, another Saturday.  At least that what my FitBit tells me.  I feel like I never know what day it is.  After 10 years at the same position, my store decided to make it mandatory that we are off Sat And Wed.  Which means I have two Mondays, and two Fridays.  It also makes it feel like I never have a day off.  Oh well, I need this job for just a little bit longer.  Hurry up retirement!

I tried hanging the frames I put your old Metallica T-shirts in, but I didn't like the arrangement.  I've laid it out several different ways, and still don't like it.  Maybe I'm trying to make it too ... squared up and I need to just start from the center and work my way out, hanging them hodgepodge.  Because that seems more like you anyhow.  OCD is one thing, but looking good is another! hehe

Sadie and I took a long walk today, first around the block, then I stuck her in the stroller and walked another half hour.  It was good for her, can't wait for cooler weather so we can walk after work again.  I think that might help.  With a lot of things.

Every now and then out of the blue - usually in the late night hours or wee morning hours - that images of you swim through my mind and it's both wonderful and painful at the same time.  It's hard not to think about our choice, and harder still to accept that you won't be coming back through my front door. 

I should try and get something actually accomplished today.
I'm still adjusting to everything.
Missing you,
Mom

The New Normal

Dear Brian,

Here it is, Monday noon, and life is back to normal -- or rather the new normal.

Your passing has left holes in all our lives.  A friend of mine told me that he thought when someone died, we missed them.  But in reflection, when someone dies, they take a piece of us with them.  And you took a huge chunk of me; there's a hole in my heart that can't be filled by anyone else but you.  Not that I want that spot filled by anyone else -- no one else could take your place.  You were my little boy, and my handyman.  You were a light in my life, and the reason I was doing things the way I was doing things.

It was my plan to pay off the house, leaving you a home to live in.  If I had my way, there would also be monies to take care of the things that need to be taken care of.  The house was in a perfect location for many reasons.  But now, I'm up in arms about what to do.  I won't be making any choices or decisions for a while because I'm tired of making decisions.

Your Dad .... has made inquiries about decisions to be made.  I've reached my limit and he's going to have to be patient with the rest of them is what I've told him.  It was very nice of him to host a BBQ for the entire family, mostly mine!, but it was also awkward in ways for me.  I guess it will always be that way because while you were the touchstone we had in common, none of the rest of our life events crossed paths.

Just a few of the thoughts that buzz through my mind.
No matter the reasons, I loved you then, I love you still.
Mom