There it is again...

The grief.  I know it's always there.  Even on my "good" days.  Waiting for me, just below the surface of my emotions ready to strike.  And it has again.  Was it the "Continuing Care" booklet I received in the mail acknowledging the three months since Ed has passed?  Is it the rain that I find comforting on one hand, but on the other hand, makes me think they are like tears from heaven?  I don't know, but there it is was again, without warning.  I put the booklet down, no longer able to read the words through my tears.  I distracted myself with dinner, dishes, and then watching TV.  But grief came back strongly as I went to bed.

The emptiness on the right side of the bed was much greater last night.  The void in the house was larger.  And the tears and hurt were there again just like it was in the beginning of this journey.  I talked out loud to Ed, but no one answered.  I expressed my anger at God and pleaded for this all to be a rotten dream, but I knew it wasn't.  I questioned what I said or didn't say to Ed during those final days, even in the three years while he had cancer.  I didn't tell him I didn't want him to die.  I didn't tell him I couldn't go on without him.  How in the world am I supposed to go on without him?  I miss his voice.  I miss his touch.  I miss him always being here for me--whether I was happy, sad, angry, or whatever mood struck me at the moment.  Eventually sleep overtook the tears. 

And when morning came and I awoke, grief greeted me again.  And I'm angry at God for not allowing us to grow old together.  I read an article in the paper about senior couples and the love they share and what a great example that is for their children and grandchildren.  And I was angry because Ed and I will never be that "senior couple".  And it's unfair that my mother and father could not be a senior couple.  Where is the senior couple in my family?  And why did God deal us these cards?  What did I ever do or not do to deserve this?  It's unfair to me, it's unfair to Dan, it's unfair to my family.

They say you move through grief.  You can't move around it, but rather need to travel directly through it.  I guess I hit a pothole in the road or maybe a mountain on the path.  Actually, it feels more like I fell into a deep hole that I now need to climb out of.  But whatever it is, I don't like it.  I don't like grief.  And I don't like that I can't pinpoint what triggers these emotions.  If I did, maybe I could manage this better.  But then I laugh to think I can even control grief.

I think of many people who have traveled this journey and somehow are still functioning years later and that gives me hope and it also scares me.  It gives me hope because they have somehow learned to continue on in their lives without their loved one.  But it scares me because, right now, I don't want to move on.  I don't like this life without Ed and I cannot imagine years extending in front of me without him.  How can I possibly endure this pain for many more months, many more years.  I know, it becomes more manageable.  I know it doesn't really go away and maybe that is what scares me also.