Used To It (?)

Time continues to slip by and I continue to worry that I am doing this all wrong. If I focus deeply on Chris and delve into the details of memories I can find him there, but the pain of his ordeal comes rushing back and the devastation of his physical absence can be unbearable. When I prevent myself from doing this for stretches I can anesthetize my brain but that has its downsides, namely that I feel I am betraying Chris and forgetting him.

What is right one day does not necessarily feel so the next so I continue to take it one day at a time and try to honor what Chris would think about the situation. With respect to most things, I hesitate to declare what Chris would or would not think, but I do feel strongly that he wouldn’t want me to lose sleep or peace over how much time I spend entrenched in memories of him. He knows I love him, and I know he loves me. Active, present voice. Love doesn’t die, it doesn’t end. The more I allow myself to dwell in that knowledge the better.

With the craziness of back-to-school I have not had time to allow myself to get lost in grief. There are too many things to do and I must keep in motion to get them all done. This ramped up activity and intellectual stimulation at work has been helpful and has given way to a more functional mode. This week I have felt a bit more peace, too, a bit more of Chris’s steady love under the surface of my daily life. When you have a good marriage it is hard to put into words what makes it a source of comfort, security, and joy. There’s just a feeling of constant well-being knowing that you have your person in the world and your person has you, and this co-constructed, tiny world can bear most hurts and delight in life’s joys. When your person is alive and well, you don’t need to be talking with him or actively thinking of him to be held by that framework of loving support. Believe it or not, I’ve tapped into this again at times. Sometimes as I drive to work or go about my business I just feel that sense that all is well between us and our love feels present, and this sustains me.

Sometimes. It would be dishonest to overstate this progress. Other times I am in such pain and it hurts so acutely that I experience that strangled, hard-to-breathe feeling. I wonder how long that will last, or if it will ever stop happening for good. As others have written, many others, the searing pain of early grief can be a gift because your person feels close. Some express that they miss that awful groaning, the true keening, once it becomes rare. I think I see how that could be as I am more used to Chris being dead.

“Used to it.” This phrase was spoken by one of my children this week. The phrase went straight from the child’s lips through my heart, like a laser-focused dagger. I recoiled inside myself but I tried not to show it. I silently cried my apology to Chris that this could possibly be so, for how could we ever be used to his absence? He should be right here with us and it still feels terribly wrong that he is not. I tried to listen to my child while wordlessly vowing to Chris to keep speaking of him and remembering him with the kids. I will. He knew that and counted on it, and there’s no way I would stop. It is hard-wired into my parenting. I don’t know why I panicked like that. With a little distance from that moment, I feel better but still have to convince myself that there is no shame if my family is used to the way things are now. In fact, that is quite healthy. Once again there is something I am quite sure of - Chris would want his children (and me) to be able to move forward effectively and productively. He would want us to get used to this new life.

I don’t particularly want to be used to this because I don’t want it to be this way at all. Still, there is no choice. I am certainly not ready to say that I’m used to it, but I’m much farther down the road. This is good. This is healthy. This is moving forward. But, it’s still unbelievably painful.