Four years. Four years of hearing you with my heart, but not my ears. Four years of questioning if I was honoring you properly. Four years of putting one foot in front of the other and forging a new normal. Four years of a life I never imagined {not true... definitely been doing that longer}. Four.
Approaching today, all I could think about was what all those days and moments felt like that lifetime ago. How such a small percentage of people my age know what it actually feels like. You give you heart away. You plan happy ever after. You become parents. If you're lucky, you laugh and look forward to the future. You enjoy each other. You get a bit of bliss. You bicker some, but you have a root of love. If you're lucky. You don't foresee the tragedy coming. It knocks you down quickly, but you find resolution and forge forward. You get a reprieve. You find a new normal. In my case, the roar of the unexpected never fully leaves, but you learn to work around it. In my case, the writing on the wall eventually became too bold to ignore. The cold. The ugly, inescapable cold that settles around what is becoming of your life and plans almost numbs you. You're left with trying to fight something that just can't be fought.... really, why would you want to anyway? In my situation, I suddenly felt so psychotically alone. So completely insulated in alone-ness that I couldn't hear anything properly. Because of the kiddos, I put one foot in front of the other and made the normal moves. Gave as much structural normalcy as possible, knowing it's just motions. I've written about all this before. The detachment. What I keep coming back to this week is how very insulated I felt from those around me... things I assume others didn't feel. When your person, the one that you could talk to with only a look, isn't there to field a darn thing. When the cold settles in that they aren't going to be. When you realize that it's you. I had the idealized vision of growing old together and then had it dashed by the very real alternative-- we're solo beings. Big tongue out. That's not really my vision. I want the partnership.
Four. Lots of time to heal. Lots of realizations to reach. Lots of ground to cover. Lots of reality to come to terms with. And I'm way lucky right now. I've got an amazing man in my life who takes all the little pieces of me, shows me compassion, reaches out in a nonthreatening way, shows honor to my Aaron, plans with me, laughs with me, holds my hand, gives me the attention and affection that I crave. So the hopeful message here is that after the amazing may come the cold and the cold might just win... but after the cold comes the spring and, if you're really really lucky, the summer again. Wow. Four seasons. Four phases. Wow. <3
Approaching today, all I could think about was what all those days and moments felt like that lifetime ago. How such a small percentage of people my age know what it actually feels like. You give you heart away. You plan happy ever after. You become parents. If you're lucky, you laugh and look forward to the future. You enjoy each other. You get a bit of bliss. You bicker some, but you have a root of love. If you're lucky. You don't foresee the tragedy coming. It knocks you down quickly, but you find resolution and forge forward. You get a reprieve. You find a new normal. In my case, the roar of the unexpected never fully leaves, but you learn to work around it. In my case, the writing on the wall eventually became too bold to ignore. The cold. The ugly, inescapable cold that settles around what is becoming of your life and plans almost numbs you. You're left with trying to fight something that just can't be fought.... really, why would you want to anyway? In my situation, I suddenly felt so psychotically alone. So completely insulated in alone-ness that I couldn't hear anything properly. Because of the kiddos, I put one foot in front of the other and made the normal moves. Gave as much structural normalcy as possible, knowing it's just motions. I've written about all this before. The detachment. What I keep coming back to this week is how very insulated I felt from those around me... things I assume others didn't feel. When your person, the one that you could talk to with only a look, isn't there to field a darn thing. When the cold settles in that they aren't going to be. When you realize that it's you. I had the idealized vision of growing old together and then had it dashed by the very real alternative-- we're solo beings. Big tongue out. That's not really my vision. I want the partnership.
Four. Lots of time to heal. Lots of realizations to reach. Lots of ground to cover. Lots of reality to come to terms with. And I'm way lucky right now. I've got an amazing man in my life who takes all the little pieces of me, shows me compassion, reaches out in a nonthreatening way, shows honor to my Aaron, plans with me, laughs with me, holds my hand, gives me the attention and affection that I crave. So the hopeful message here is that after the amazing may come the cold and the cold might just win... but after the cold comes the spring and, if you're really really lucky, the summer again. Wow. Four seasons. Four phases. Wow. <3
RSS Feed
