Almost two years after the loss of my wife Cindy, someone recently commented on how well I was doing. It made me feel good. And at the same time it made me feel bad. Deep down I guess we feel like if our grief isn’t visible enough, we are not grieving enough.
I had to build a new life. It was not a choice I made. If I had the option I would have lived till my final day with Cindy, and I believe that my life would have been more than full enough. But that option was taken from me.
Instead I had to fill a huge void left by my loss. To just give up and sit on the couch and wait to die, I couldn’t do that. I thought about it though. Seriously. Instead I chose to try to fill my life. Don’t get me wrong, it is nice to hear people tell me that I seem to be doing well. It is encouraging to hear that the choices I am making are positive, and are moving my life forward.
I do have a happy life. It is filled with friends and family, the beautiful outdoors of Montana, art and creativity, and a new sense of spirituality. And in this void I was left with there is room for more. I will keep working to fill it.
I have to remind myself that I am not replacing Cindy with new stuff and forgetting her. It is a testament of her place in my life and in my heart that it takes so much to fill the emptiness. I’ll make new memories, new friends. I’ll enjoy new hobbies, experience new adventures. I won’t sit on the couch and wait to die. If I do, I hope these kind and thoughtful people who took the time to tell me how happy they are to see that I am doing well will kick me solidly in the (metaphorical) ass if they find me doing so.
But I’ll never forget Cindy, her place in my heart is eternal. The sharp edges of grief may be smoothed with time, but there is always enough of a jagged point left to break the skin and draw blood. I can’t speak for anyone else, but for me at least, grief is not a coat we can wear and replace. It is a skin we live in, and it can be cut and healed. And then be cut again.
I’d have it no other way.
