As this day has approached, the rhythm of the calendar and the way the light falls in early winter draw me to Chris. I've had a sickening sense of dread that Chris will die all over again and I still don't know what to do about that. I can't prevent it, I never could, and that helpless feeling is still just as horrible as it was. Predictably, I've spent some time reliving the end. It hasn't entirely consumed me, though. In a way, letting myself really go back to that day in my mind allows me to feel how it was to be with Chris again and experience the last time we were a team. I've been trying to make myself reach back for other earlier memories, too, whenever I revisit that day because Chris deserves to be remembered for more than how he met his end. I remember his silliness, the time he and N fooled me with a surprise birthday gift, his earnest drive to do and be good, how he encouraged me to use the dishwasher liberally to save effort, how he was just happy to be with our family with no particular agenda, how he laughed with J, how he understood me. The really important, over-arching stuff and tiny, fun anecdotes.
The kids and I are thinking of Chris and remembering him together and separately. Chris is always on my mind... Did I give Chris my best self and the right expressions of love? Did he know how much I love him? Did he know how incredibly brave he was? Do I remember him accurately? Did I fully know him? The kids ponder their own versions of these questions, I'm very sure of this from conversations and watching them, and Chris is strongly on their minds.
If Chris were just on the other side of the double doors, aware of our presence but unable to be with us, I wonder if he would have his own version of these questions. If I could, I would reassure him that we know exactly how much he loved us and that we know he would be here if he had any choice in the matter. Chris had been so worried the kids wouldn't know him, and I understand that concern. If I could, I would relay the respect and love that our children have for him because I see it every day. I would make sure he understands that the kids do know him, and that I and others will make sure that doesn't change. I am not sure if it would be important to him, but if Chris wondered if we were proud of him, the answer is an emphatic yes. Of course, I would take the opportunity to tell him that we all love him and miss him. So much. So very, very much.
I wish I could have that real, back and forth conversation to get at our questions and his. I'd add to it several things to serve my own needs. If only I could honor our relationship by saying I was wrong and I wish I had handled that differently about several things. And, though selfish, I desperately want to know what he thinks of how I have managed this year. Would he think I'm doing a good job? Would Chris be proud of me? I don't have to ask about the kids, I know he would be proud of them for moving forward despite the difficulty of their situation.
Interesting, as I wrote that last sentence, I had this flash of a feeling that I probably know the essence of the responses I would get to my other issues and questions. I knew him so, so well and I'm not sure why I've allowed myself to question that. We were incredibly close. When I'm being as honest as I can to myself, I know that he would appreciate my admissions of fault and also be quick to describe instances of his own. He was always eager to forgive. Chris would have genuine interest in the things that I've had to handle and be particularly pleased with some of my decisions that we hadn't anticipated. Chris would be relieved with the footing we are on now, in all respects. I'm quite certain he would rib me about my ridiculous devotion to the dog and he'd probably even enjoy some dark jokes about how he had to die to make my (dog) dream come true. Because I knew him through and through, I know Chris would say that he is proud of me but also that he always knew I could do all of the things I have had to learn to do. He was just like that, he always had confidence in me just as I had full belief in his ability to care for us. He always was proud of me and our marriage, so I don't know why it is something I wonder about.
See, by letting myself daydream about impossible encounters with Chris, my mind was able to go back to past reality to find some assurances all for myself. This grief journey is something... Every now and then there is a positive surprise.
I do not have a significant, meaningful event set up to remember Chris today. I thought about a few options but felt paralyzed and failed to make a big plan. While I do harbor a bit of regret and guilt about that, I think it is useful to remember that today is not a repeat of Jan 8, 2019. It is just another day in a long series of days that will start and end without him. That fact alone is sad, but it means the day doesn't have to hold trauma and a fixation on his death because thankfully he doesn't have to go through that again. Still, there is and will be an extra weight of sorrow, I think. It is what it is today. Next year, the day will be what it will be at that particular time, and so on. We will just have to go through it and take this day as it comes.
It will be important to remember that all of the work we have put into surviving this year is not wasted if we are sorrowful, because we did indeed survive. The forward progress we have made in this year is not erased just because it is the anniversary and we might feel like we have taken ten steps back. Today will unfold as it will, and tomorrow will be a new day to pick up the survivor mantle and put one foot in front of the other. We loved Chris, we still love him, and we always will. That love will continue to carry us through.
To Chris - I miss you so much that I can hardly stand it. I am deeply sorry for many things, I'm sure you know what they are. I am proud of you - in every way you set an incredible example. I love you so much, I always will. You still shine the light for me and I'm so grateful for you. Thank you for every minute.
The kids and I are thinking of Chris and remembering him together and separately. Chris is always on my mind... Did I give Chris my best self and the right expressions of love? Did he know how much I love him? Did he know how incredibly brave he was? Do I remember him accurately? Did I fully know him? The kids ponder their own versions of these questions, I'm very sure of this from conversations and watching them, and Chris is strongly on their minds.
If Chris were just on the other side of the double doors, aware of our presence but unable to be with us, I wonder if he would have his own version of these questions. If I could, I would reassure him that we know exactly how much he loved us and that we know he would be here if he had any choice in the matter. Chris had been so worried the kids wouldn't know him, and I understand that concern. If I could, I would relay the respect and love that our children have for him because I see it every day. I would make sure he understands that the kids do know him, and that I and others will make sure that doesn't change. I am not sure if it would be important to him, but if Chris wondered if we were proud of him, the answer is an emphatic yes. Of course, I would take the opportunity to tell him that we all love him and miss him. So much. So very, very much.
I wish I could have that real, back and forth conversation to get at our questions and his. I'd add to it several things to serve my own needs. If only I could honor our relationship by saying I was wrong and I wish I had handled that differently about several things. And, though selfish, I desperately want to know what he thinks of how I have managed this year. Would he think I'm doing a good job? Would Chris be proud of me? I don't have to ask about the kids, I know he would be proud of them for moving forward despite the difficulty of their situation.
Interesting, as I wrote that last sentence, I had this flash of a feeling that I probably know the essence of the responses I would get to my other issues and questions. I knew him so, so well and I'm not sure why I've allowed myself to question that. We were incredibly close. When I'm being as honest as I can to myself, I know that he would appreciate my admissions of fault and also be quick to describe instances of his own. He was always eager to forgive. Chris would have genuine interest in the things that I've had to handle and be particularly pleased with some of my decisions that we hadn't anticipated. Chris would be relieved with the footing we are on now, in all respects. I'm quite certain he would rib me about my ridiculous devotion to the dog and he'd probably even enjoy some dark jokes about how he had to die to make my (dog) dream come true. Because I knew him through and through, I know Chris would say that he is proud of me but also that he always knew I could do all of the things I have had to learn to do. He was just like that, he always had confidence in me just as I had full belief in his ability to care for us. He always was proud of me and our marriage, so I don't know why it is something I wonder about.
See, by letting myself daydream about impossible encounters with Chris, my mind was able to go back to past reality to find some assurances all for myself. This grief journey is something... Every now and then there is a positive surprise.
I do not have a significant, meaningful event set up to remember Chris today. I thought about a few options but felt paralyzed and failed to make a big plan. While I do harbor a bit of regret and guilt about that, I think it is useful to remember that today is not a repeat of Jan 8, 2019. It is just another day in a long series of days that will start and end without him. That fact alone is sad, but it means the day doesn't have to hold trauma and a fixation on his death because thankfully he doesn't have to go through that again. Still, there is and will be an extra weight of sorrow, I think. It is what it is today. Next year, the day will be what it will be at that particular time, and so on. We will just have to go through it and take this day as it comes.
It will be important to remember that all of the work we have put into surviving this year is not wasted if we are sorrowful, because we did indeed survive. The forward progress we have made in this year is not erased just because it is the anniversary and we might feel like we have taken ten steps back. Today will unfold as it will, and tomorrow will be a new day to pick up the survivor mantle and put one foot in front of the other. We loved Chris, we still love him, and we always will. That love will continue to carry us through.
To Chris - I miss you so much that I can hardly stand it. I am deeply sorry for many things, I'm sure you know what they are. I am proud of you - in every way you set an incredible example. I love you so much, I always will. You still shine the light for me and I'm so grateful for you. Thank you for every minute.
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