“To my darling in heaven, it felt so good to talk about you, to share our memories of you to the people you loved, they talked about you too and that meant you mattered to them. They have carried something of who you are, you have left some mark on them. Your absence made them sad, and by that, I believe, you are also loved by them. We went back to the place you have loved so deeply, to the place where you had your first and held your final breath. To hear your name being spoken brought us some comfort and peace. Your memory with them is special, and somehow, we felt God’s windshield wiped some of the tears and pain away from us for a while. We will continue to hold on to the memories we have of you, especially the good, happy and fun, and pure. With God, in due time will erase the painful ones.”
Our visit to the province is over. As always, we did not go out for the whole week except our scheduled visit to the columbarium where my husband’s remains were and brought his urn overnight. We were afraid of facing overwhelming memories if we went out that could shatter our steady hearts. We needed just enough to fill our hearts, and we had them at home, his photos, books, clothes, and shoes along with his favorite chair and game; 3 chess sets and one was never even used. Memories after memories came rushing through, and the saddest is, mining through a box of letters that he wrote for me while we were starting our family. The hardest part was when his belongings stopped smelling like him and that is what we have been looking forward to our trip back home.
We survived the week. Though every day was a struggle, we maintained that sense of normality of staying within the four walls of our house, our new normal. We have to remind ourselves that there are just the 3 of us now. Until this writing, I unconsciously ordered for four meals instead of 3.
My anxieties lessened by God’s grace; I was able to attend to the church where he pastored and met, talked with and even hugged the people who have been very helpful in my grief. Although some cannot stand looking at me as they have to shy away for reasons I don’t know, and I can only assume that my presence made them uncomfortable or sad, nonetheless, I am used to being avoided since my loss, though painful, there is always a price to pay. I do not like to force myself to stop to make people feel better. I tried so many times to try to appear ok but, in the end, I find myself worse than before. The scars of his absence prick, and I believe because I have loved so deeply and truly.
I know my grief is past the average 6-months period that a person is supposed to have. I grieve not because I am still holding on for the past and for what could have been. I grieve because I miss him; I long for him, I yearn for him; I miss his physical presence, not necessarily the intimate touch but his casual touch; I miss his arms around my shoulder every time we cross the street, our hands holding together during our prayers, his good morning and goodnight kiss and hug; I miss the wee hours in the morning where we used to talk and discuss about anything under the sun. We miss him driving for us, bringing and fetching us whenever he is around. Now, we have to learn and unlearn things. Everything is different.
I know we will not go back to normal; “normal” to us means, a combination of crying and laughing when we remember him. Normal to me is early morning heartbreaks where my children knew nothing. I spend the late morning putting the pieces back with God sewing them all together throughout the day.
I can say I am better now; better in a way because my weeping is lesser but the pain is still very much present; better, not because I am getting over my loss, but because I am slowly moving forward with my husband, who I believe is watching and cheering for us and not to discount, the prayers that are being uttered on our behalf. I will continue to hold on to God’s promise of deliverance and hope through this storm and look forward to be in His presence in glory land.
“To my darling, I’m am forever grateful I had you with all that I have been through, is going through and will be going through, all the hurt, all the pain, and all the struggles that have come as a result of losing you here on earth. Agapi mou s’agapo.”