The Valley of Grief is Deep

It's difficult right now.  Each day I relive the events of a year ago.  What was happening this exact day a year ago?  It was a year ago that Ed and I agreed that we needed to change our goal from getting him home to him being without pain.  And any hope that we had that he would get better was no longer a reality.

I can't stop thinking how I've been alone in this house for over a year.  I cannot believe it's been a year--where did the time go?  What have I done in an entire year?  I have not made much progress is cleaning out Ed's things.  The golf club he got for Christmas before he passed still sits in the corner of the living room where he left it.  His clothes still fill the dressers and closets.  Yes, I've gotten rid of a few things, but not much.  But I know I'm not going anywhere and so there is no rush.  When it's time; when it feels right.

I fear this year mark as well.  It has been a year since I've held Ed's hand and felt his touch.  To kiss his lips and feel his hug.  And I fear I'll forgot that.  I have many photos that help me remember his smile and the contour of his face.  But how do I capture the images that only exist in my memory, for I fear the day when these images will fade.

Each day, each moment, right now is a mix of emotions and feelings.  I am touched by those who acknowledge this is a difficult time for me--that a year later the pain and hurt is still there.  At the same time, I am amazed that there are those who haven't a clue.  But then again, did I have any clue before I lost Ed?  No, so I credit those who have not experienced this level of loss, but somehow know that my grief is not gone and over.

I know I need to keep myself busy with tasks.  As I sat on the bedroom floor the other day, overwhelmed by the sadness and tears, I forced myself to go be productive.  To do something other than wallow in my grief.  And I will continue to do that this weekend.  I am thankful that the weather will be nice and I'll go outside and work in the yard.  I clearly remember that last year, spring was delayed in coming.  The days were cold and gray, which matched my mood.  And I was thankful for that.  A year ago today I was researching hospice options for Ed.  Today, I will work in the yard, and try to make Ed proud taking care of what he made and provided for me.

I honor the past, I push through the present, and I fear the future.  But every day as I awake, I thank God that I'm surviving.  I thank Ed for giving me the most beautiful 32 years of my life and giving me such love that it causes me to miss him so deeply.  I love the home we built together and I will work hard to maintain it and do him proud.  And I live on for Dan, for he is the best thing in the world to me; the best gift and legacy Ed could ever leave.  As I continue to move through this valley of grief, I will try to remind myself of these things.