2 Years …. Now What?

April 30, 2012

I survived.  2 years have passed since Chris died.  Even just writing that on “paper” brings up a lot of conflicting emotions and reactions.  On one hand it feels like forever ago, like another lifetime. In many ways it is a different lifetime, like it happened to a different person.  On the other hand, it feels like yesterday that we said goodbye for the last time.

Chris and I grabbing beers a few weeks after we started dating
Summer 2006

This year was a lot easier though.  Last year I made myself sick trying to mark the anniversary with a bbq and making all the special gestures.  This year, I made no special gestures other than wear clothes that reminded me of him.  I spent a quiet weekend with my parents trying to focus on the present. I can’t change the past.  I can’t bring Chris back with big, love focused gestures.  All I can do is make the most of my present. 

Today, I felt it a bit more than yesterday.  There was more anxiety and depression, distraction and dissociation.  It wasn’t like it has been.  It was just a feeling that said loudly “Holy Shit! It has been two years. What the Hell do I do now?”.  

I don’t have an answer.  I don’t think I ever will.  But maybe continually asking myself that question will take me somewhere interesting even if it isn’t very far.

Our Last Night Together

April 25, 2012

This night* two years ago, Chris and I spent our last night together. We had both had early dinner plans, I with a friend from work, he with the lacrosse team he coached.  We had talked about cancelling and just going home, but I am glad he got to see his kids one more time.

A shirtless Chris, napping on the couch

I beat him home and I remember being so impatient for him to get home.  Once he was home we did our standard cuddling on the couch watching tv, snuggled under a blanket.  I remember so vividly how we held each other and talked about how happy we were and how much we never wanted to be apart.  That we were meant to be together forever.  I asked him never to leave me and he said “Where would I go?”

We had no idea that was our last night together.  That as we lay there full of love and joy, he was dying.  He had less than 12 hours to live.  Dear God how can that be?

Even now I still cannot believe he is gone.  How could we be parted?  I know our last night together was a gift.  That God wanted us to be certain of the strength and joy of our love.  It is excrutiating to remember how happy we were and how much Chris loved me.  The loss is beyond words.

Baby, 

I love you.  I miss you every minute of everyday.  I can’t believe it has been two years since the last time we shared an evening and a bed.  How are you dead? I still do not understand.

All I know is that you live on in another form. That you haven’t really left me, just transformed. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed.

I will be beside you in time.

Your wife,

Meredith

 

*The anniversary is techincally Saturday (28th), but Chris died on a Wednesday and in many ways I feel the anniversary is tomorrow

 

Changes?

April 24, 2012

So I haven’t posted in a while.  Probably for many reasons, especially because as I said before I have been stuck.  Falling into the pit of dispair, lying there for a while, slowly pulling myself back up, just to fall back down. It made it pretty hard to do anything other than function, like writing this blog.   What energy had I used to try and make small changes in my life.  These changes have helped some and given me some momentum that I hope is pulling me along.

Change number 1:  Still in progress – going through Chris’s stuff.  On New Year’s weekend, which was shitty anyway, I started tearing through his stuff.  Clothes, coats, old pictures, everything got pulled out and categorized.  If you have seen the Iron Lady, there is a scene where Margaret is sitting admist all of her husbands clothes and things sobbing.  That was me.  It was hard and I still have piles that I have to decide what to do with.  But in many ways the several bags and boxes I have given already make me feel so much lighter. I had felt for a long time that I was drowning in his stuff and I could no longer breath.  That has lifted a lot and my fears, that I would lose more of him, have been wrong. I haven’t lost any more of him than I had before and in many ways has freed me to feel his presence more strongly and with less static.  If that makes sense.

Change number 2: Ongoing? – focusing on new things and new people. I have made an effort to spend my time on doing new things and meeting new people.  Just living in my old pattern was trapping me in the pain of my loss, so I joined new organizations, took a photography class, and made some new non-married friends. People who share interests and want to talk about things other than being married and having babies.  I went to Widow Camp East (http://www.campwidow.org/) this past weekend and felt at ease and more myself than I have since Chris died.   For you other widow’s out there. If you can swing it, you should go.  I was a little terrified of going, not knowing anyone and generally being an introvert. But it was amazing and inspirational.  All of these activities have gone towards making me feel a little more in charge of my life and like I have regained some of my independence.  It opens up hope for a future full of adventure.

Change number 3 – complete – I cut my hair!  It is about shoulder length now.  I haven’t had it that short since 7th grade.  It might not seem a big thing, but I just felt like I needed to look different. It was weird to continue to look the same so I just went to the salon one day and had about 7 inches taken off.  It felt good. I felt lighter and it takes so much less time to dry and style. 

For me some small steps have helped.  I still have lots I could do, should do, need to do to try and make my life easier and new.  Some times I don’t have the energy for it and just sit at home and watch TV.  That is ok too.  Those are my recharging days. A few of those and I start to feel like I can take on another change, however small.