I've been plugging away at my book, which is essentially a collection of lessons I've learned from being a young widow. The writing is hard; it forces me to live more in "Widowland" than in the present. It forces me to remember and relive the life I had with Brian, his death, and life without him in excruciating detail. Writing about all this sharpens the edges of my life and my pain, edges that time had previously worn somewhat smooth. It's going to be a difficult, but necessary and good, journey. I hope it will help me in my grief journey and - more importantly - I hope it will eventually help others.
In the meantime, emotions are getting stirred up. Today, I'm feeling particularly guilty about not catching Brian's illness sooner, not demanding that he go to the ER the second he said he was having tightness in his chest. I'm frustrated that neither of us realized something was very wrong. I feel like I failed as a wife and a human because he died and I didn't prevent it.
Today, I'd give anything for one more day of my "old" life -- even a weekday. I miss the e-mails we would exchange on a daily basis at work, the quick texts and calls about what time we'd be home, whether we could squeeze in some time at the gym, what was for supper, etc. I miss Brian's voice, his arms around me in a big-man bear hug, seeing Ellie cuddled up on his lap, the way he laughed. I just wish I could have one more normal, mundane day of that life.
I haven't had a day this hard in a while. I love the life I have now and try to focus on enjoying the present instead of missing the past. Writing about the past, though, makes this really hard. I ask my friends and family to please understand this and be understanding as I walk this road.
In the meantime, for those who are reading this -- it's Wednesday afternoon. Who will share this ordinary day in your life with you? Do you love that person, and have you expressed that love to him or her? What mundane activity or interaction will you have that you might otherwise take for granted? Take a moment to relish in it today, revel in it, soak it in. Be thankful for every little interaction that makes up the fabric of your life. Whether or not it unravels tomorrow, you might as well wrap yourself up in in and enjoy it today.
In the meantime, emotions are getting stirred up. Today, I'm feeling particularly guilty about not catching Brian's illness sooner, not demanding that he go to the ER the second he said he was having tightness in his chest. I'm frustrated that neither of us realized something was very wrong. I feel like I failed as a wife and a human because he died and I didn't prevent it.
Today, I'd give anything for one more day of my "old" life -- even a weekday. I miss the e-mails we would exchange on a daily basis at work, the quick texts and calls about what time we'd be home, whether we could squeeze in some time at the gym, what was for supper, etc. I miss Brian's voice, his arms around me in a big-man bear hug, seeing Ellie cuddled up on his lap, the way he laughed. I just wish I could have one more normal, mundane day of that life.
I haven't had a day this hard in a while. I love the life I have now and try to focus on enjoying the present instead of missing the past. Writing about the past, though, makes this really hard. I ask my friends and family to please understand this and be understanding as I walk this road.
In the meantime, for those who are reading this -- it's Wednesday afternoon. Who will share this ordinary day in your life with you? Do you love that person, and have you expressed that love to him or her? What mundane activity or interaction will you have that you might otherwise take for granted? Take a moment to relish in it today, revel in it, soak it in. Be thankful for every little interaction that makes up the fabric of your life. Whether or not it unravels tomorrow, you might as well wrap yourself up in in and enjoy it today.
Wendy, you may not remember me, but we worked on a case together several years ago. I am moved by your last paragraph above. I intend to go home today and enjoy the "mundane" times with my wife and boys that I have taken for granted.
ReplyDeleteTake care,
Jim Fitzsimmons
Mason City, IA
Jim -- Thank you for your comment. I do remember you (and that case), and am humbled by your response. This is why I write and share my pain with the world.
ReplyDeleteWendy, It was hot. We went swimming. :)
ReplyDelete