I'm done being the grieving widow. I have felt this way for a few weeks now but today I gave myself permission.
My therapist and I go through the time lines, the conversation is not always in sequence but today we finally arrived at a crossroad.
1. Grieve longer (maybe even forever)
I think those who knew Christopher and I, and hopefully, by reading these words you can understand/have understood the depth of love that the two of us share(d). It would only be natural for me to continue grieving. Carrying this heavy weight and hurt around. He was my true love. My everything. Everything I was depended on him. His love, his friendship, his thoughts, his advice. Everything I wanted to be, involved him. Sometimes to the point where I could easily lose sight of who Lindsey was. He never expected this or asked me to do this, it just happened over the course of our relationship. It happened way before I even met Christopher.
Remember, Jim?
Yeah.
The shift came when we moved to Colorado. Finally.
I belonged somewhere. My people. My vibe. I found Lindsey.
She was just hidden in the curves of the mountains.
Side note: Go to Colorado. Go out west. Soak it all in.
Christopher deployed in March, we had just moved there in August so I had the warmer months to get settled and find my groove.
Maneuvering our new adventures with two kids and adjusting to the geographical single parent role. We made friends. We hiked. Foraged. Built a life in this hippie Mayberry-esque town.
Then life.
I could grieve forever and would have every right to.
2. Fight for answers
I can't answer my front door. I have to give myself a pep talk to do so, even when I know a delivery or someone is going to be there in 30 minutes or less. Anxiety and fear sink in and I make someone else answer or just won't at all. This is because of all the unanswered questions and speculations left lingering about. The closure that I still haven't received.
One day he was fine, the next "pilots are at the door".
Debilitating.
Can't move on because everyone has lied.
Everyone.
From the beginning.
I could fight. Blow up. Demand answers.
Demand answers from people that have lied to my face, who have watched me scream and wail over my husband's casket.
3. What I've chosen to do
Move forward.
I'm going to brag a bit and share what my therapist said today.
"You are transitioning in and out of grief beautifully."
I knew it was time.
She knows everything. All the darkness. All the light. She's kept me balanced and honest. And honesty hurts. It is painful but it is necessary to move forward. I gave myself permission today. The last painful hurt, the last amount of guilt and anger was shed. I released it to her and I didn't explode. She accepted me.
"Most folks would rather believe in comforting bullshit than face scary reality. The sad thing is, you face scary reality, and things can actually begin to get better."
Waylon Lewis I'm always going to miss my husband. There will be days, painful days but there will be more joy and more happiness than there ever was before. We understand how much it means now. The three of us have endured and will endure a hurt that most people won't go through till much later, if at all.
It has changed us.
It has softened me.
It is ever evolving.
I'm just going to keep flowing.
I still have no clue who I am or what I want but I'm figuring it out. I also no longer need Christopher to make me feel loved or accepted or like I matter.
I know what we had and what we shared and I will cling tightly to that.
I'm also learning how to love myself.
That I am a really good human being.
A being.
The appreciation of my existence no longer depends on the love from someone else.
I can love myself and in turn can love others purely.
As it should be.
Addendum.
Otis Redding
Good to me
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