A New Year


Thats the thing about time – it’s measured in every aspect.  Seconds, minutes, hours, days, years and so on.  That measurability also introduces an element of pressure.  Kevin died in 2015, so to those who didn’t know him, they might think ‘well it’s two years since he died, she should have it together by now.’  But it’s not like that.

Time doesn’t have the same measure for someone who is grieving.  The sorrow doesn’t erode over time, contrary to what I’ve been told over and over again.  Told, not by the counsellors in the grief group, nope, rather told by someone who may have lost a family member that wasn’t an intimate part of their everyday life. Someone they loved perhaps, but not someone they woke up with and to, and went to bed at the end of the day with.

So when you lose the normalcy of your life, especially after 31 years of marriage, it throws you off.  Yes, there is a new way of being but part of that new way is the very grief you carry with you.  I’ve realized that my grief is part of who I am and I accept it. I think most of those close to me know it too.

It may be a new year but my grief hasn’t been tempered or diminished over time.  On March 29th it will be two years since Kev’s death and it will still hurt as deeply as ever.  It doesn’t matter what the calendar says. When he died I lost part of me, a vital part, I suspect the best part.  I will learn to make do but I will never be the same – ever.

 

 

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