I hadn’t stopped to think a great deal about grief anniversaries until those were the anniversaries I was sharing with you babe. I have read lot’s about them lately, it’s like when you buy a blue car and you see blue cars everywhere. Since living with grief, every day there seems to be another article about grief brought to my attention, most of them reminding me of how difficult all the firsts are. Me thinking each time, ‘they couldn’t be any worse than what the 2nds, 3rds or 4ths will be — or any other annual event without you for that matter.’ How could the anniversary of a year without you be worse than waking every morning or going to bed every night without you. It couldn’t be any different to the breath catching pain of hearing our songs, your songs or songs from your service that randomly play on the radio or in shopping centre bathrooms and the supermarket every other day.
I don’t mean for this to sound heartbreaking and I don’t mean it to sound like I’m never going to get over your loss. But it is what it is. The simple truth being that every moment without you is an anniversary of the fact that you are missing from me. In my heart that loss isn’t measured in years or months, not in weeks…not even in days. An annual anniversary isn’t the mark that reminds me you’re not here anymore, I live that fact every moment, and it’s shit. I don’t expect it will get better with time. Not if Im honest. I see the pain in the faces of family and friends when they talk about loved ones lost; partners, parents, children, siblings, friends, pets, and I can tell that time hasn’t eased their pain. The pain is tolerated, lived with, accepted and honoured, but not ever lost. And that is what it is like for me too.
Knowing you are never far away soothes and comforts most days, but the pain of knowing you aren’t here physically sit’s somewhere just behind my heart and extends to the pit of my stomach, its a physical sensation that has been there since you left, somedays it’s a really faint sensation, others strong enough to zap my energy and leave me feeling weak and exhausted. I wonder if this is normal, if others experience the same sensation, or if I notice it because of my sensitivity to energy? I haven’t heard anyone else experiencing or who have experienced grief mention it. Maybe they think they shouldn’t.
So, anyway…I just wanted to say hello, and thank you for the messages you sent this week. It didn’t surprise me that twice, when I was thinking through different issues and wondering if I was on the right track, that when I asked for your input I found clear and concise information that validated what I was thinking. Your ability to stay in touch amazes me and Im glad I am open to seeing what comes through, for what it is.
I wonder if you still tune out to my constant chatter? Im guessing you do…I just don’t catch you doing it now : )
PS: As you probably already know the kids and I had a lovely visit with your Mum and dad yesterday, we watched an old wedding video – it was filmed a month after our own wedding, we were honeymooners. When I watched us dancing together I cried, we were always the first one’s on the dance floor. Your mum gave me some old cards I’d sent you, back when we first started dating. One being for your birthday in 1995, we’d been together 4 months and it was already evident that we would be together a lifetime.
Loved ya truly, madly back then and still do today,