A more rational view

Wednesday 1 Oct 

I'm getting better at this - I have hours of normalcy and I haven't cried today. I went to a yoga class yesterday and it felt like a medicine, no, I can't even find the right words - gentle but focused physical exertion, mental cleanse. I spoke to the instructor, a wonderful Indian lady who told me whatever you do, when get home, get out of these clothes and bathe your body - wash the day off and even if you don't meditate or chant, make sure you lay down and breathe, at least 20 breaths. I will take her advice.

The days are less painful, or rather, the pain is less intense, but they are somehow harder to bear. They are reality in full swing, they are less tears, but more deep sighs. I remember reading a book, a memoir of love and loss ( this was the subtitle and the gist) - the author was narrating and illustrating the year following the tragic death of his wife - again sudden death. He said - at first, I would share my pain with everyone - friends, family, the guy who sold me news paper, then less and less - less emotional availability,less willingness to pry the wound open again. I'm starting to feel that as well, or maybe it's just an illusion. I can't rely on my feelings just yet...and there's the unfinished matter of the funeral ceremony, still a week away. 

I went back to reading on the stages of grieving, the academic explanation, the post-mortem of the post-mortem. One of them is bargaining. It's the third one - they go : denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. The model was devised by a reputed Swiss psychologist and it claims universality and I read it thinking have YOU lost anyone, Elisabeth? I read about her http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elisabeth_K%C3%BCbler-Ross - she suffered two miscarriages and has two children; she's now divorced, a prolific and awarded academic. What bargaining? There is none - there wasn't with my mum and there is none now. I have no leverage! And my mind or heart never even touched the concept. Depression?? The first time around there was none and I'm hoping to escape it this time. A deep feeling of emptiness, yes, nostalgia, sadness, but it works the same way you train your body - you have to make an effort - not to give in, not to go to that dark, horrid place. For me it's friends, yoga, the gym, writing, work and school, replacing I miss you with I love you, talking about it, endlessly, to exhaustion, trying to create some sense. 

I have a saving grace - I GAVE him something so precious...he would've left this world that day either way. He met me exactly two months before he died - he could've met some other girl, who would've probably made him equally happy - he was so eager to give and receive love. But he met ME and I will always feel blessed - I can't help but think ..I was more prepared to give him what he needed and take the pain afterwards. I'm not taking anything away from us - he might not have met anyone and went contempt, but not happy...fuck, I'm happy it was me...

Some random thoughts :

Probably the most important gift he gave me was a lesson: be present in the present! I could feel him falling for me, with the excitement of child, with no fear of rejection, with no caution and offence at my slower pace. I was still bruised and over analytical - this is my nature. He had only certainties - he KNEW I was making him happy and that I was happy, he KNEW we would be doing this for as long as we're here. I could feel it, but I just wouldn't let myself say it. Finally and just in time, the week before he died I said it to him over and over and over again and he... well we were one of those annoying couples who just could not be apart, could not keep our hands off each other, knowing we should  still keep our independent lives to a reasonable extent, but never did.

Then he reminded me of how I deserve to be loved, how it should be and what I have always looked for, had but temporarily forgot. And it doesn't necessarily come in a lightning, love at first sight, romantic novel or Hollywood cute-meet. I had met him and thought nothing of him and the feeling, or lack thereof was mutual. But he showed up on my doorstep and the rest is a brief, beautiful history. 

He gave me his friends - what an amazing, generous gift! I am an expat, well... a wanderer. Ever since my mum died, home is tricky - it's my dad's home and that of my sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law. London is not home - I haven't even put up my pictures. My friends are scattered all over and that comes with both good and bad. The people he left me with showed me so much love, care, they made sure I survived this, made sure I knew we're all in this together and it's overwhelming and I just feel blessed and I thank him. They were his family and now mine.

I looked up the meaning of his name - it's wanderer ... What was he looking for and why go so soon? You would think I'd question why me? Why again? But I'm not - I think about his journey...hoping to find some sense there..it feels I have.

The day I met his parents was the day after his death - I was in his house, crying with his parents, playing with his dog, while he was up there, meeting my mum, playing with my dog - oh yeah, my dog died in April. His dad took me in his arms and he was ever so warm and open and vulnerable and so was I. His mum was trying to make sense, trying to breathe.. I didn't know how she felt about me. She wrote to me last Sunday ( 28 Sept) and called me precious, we opened up to each other, she thanked me and so did I. This was the first time I felt useful. 

The paradox:

The more pain, the more love. My heart is so torn by such continuous ache, I'm amazed it still works and yet, I feel LOVE. I love him, I love my mum, I love my friends. 

Monday 29 Sept, 10 days after

Monday 29 Sept 

I am 29; my trials have started at 28 and a half when my partner at that time fell out of love with me and shortly after, my mother passed away suddenly, having suffered an an aneurysm at the age of 56. As I was graduating this crash course in life, death, pain and acceptance, the most wonderful reward was given to me - I fell in love with the most unlikely man and after having confessed our love to each other, he died in a car crash at the age of 27, after 5 perfect weeks spent together. This was 19 Sept 2014, a little over two weeks before the 1 year anniversary of my mother's death.

Grieving is horrible -there is no sugar coating it because it shatters your being to the very last fibre and it's relentless. Reasoning helps but the understanding only touches a shallow level of your consciousness, until it sinks in, with the passing of time. Therapists have identified stages, coping mechanism to help you through each one but my grieving hasn't been and isn't so structured - either that, or my stages are measured in hour intervals, or even minutes. I go through stages of deep sorrow, unbearable, sharp - my heart is not simply breaking, it's tearing slowly and ever so painfully; then I feel peace, or even joy caused either by a thought, a word, a person, a memory or an event; then I feel desolation, a deep sadness and emptiness - it's the emptiness that is left behind by all the dreams, projections, even routine that have been taken away along with the person. I've only felt angry for a short while, almost unnoticeable, right after it happened - not angry at a higher instance that took him away, but at him for not being careful enough, at the lorry driver he collided with, at myself for not having picked up on some subtle warning. I still curse at him sometimes, but in the economy of my grieving, it's not even worth mentioning. 

Regret, remorse, guilt - these are the bullets, but they will not kill you instantly, they do it repetitively, each time more intense than the last time, each time together. Reason is the only bullet proof vest, but it feels more like a thin cloth. This time around I was blessed not to be in the firing line - he took away something perfect, he died in a state of bliss and I gave it to him. I am thanked and I find it hard to accept it, because it was easy for me, it reflected off what he had given me and too short lived to stand the trials of mundane life. However, I am ever so happy for him and now I am wearing a beautiful, subtle ring on the ring finger of my left hand, as we are and will always be engaged and he will never have to fear that this happiness will ever be taken away from him. 

Nostalgia drowns you, chokes you - nostalgia of the past but mostly of the future. I find the only protection against it is to replace " I miss you" with " I love you", as it keeps us in the moment and in the abstract, away from hopeful future, from the house with a garden, 2.4 kids and old age bickering. saddens me so much, I get upset and disappointed with myself. 

I am so open right now, so sensitive and vulnerable and one the one hand, I love more - it's overwhelming, it's flooding my soul and it's beautiful. At the same time, anything can hurt me and the hurt feeds my anger and resentment - at other people's happiness, at life that for some goes on and I recognise this as petty and it saddens me so much, I get upset and disappointed with myself. Thankfully, it never prevails. 

I have so many people around me - old and new, close and far away, friends and near strangers who have and are showing me such tremendous love, consideration and listen to me, share with me; they are there, selflessly being around me and I know it's not easy, it's uncomfortable, fuzzy, painful and heavy. But they're still here, some for the second time around, better at talking and being with me and fully aware of times to come, bracing themselves and me. I can't find the words to say Thank You, they don't need them either, but it frustrates me - either they haven't been invented or this is a a pure case of less is more. So I keep saying the same ones over and over again - Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. I feel humbled, grateful, fortunate, I feel loved. There is a community that comes together and it feels good to be part of it, it feels less strenuous although, sometimes the collective pain of the shared loss becomes heavy. I find the indifference of some people hurts, or at least it makes matters worse, although they are the people I never connected with in the first place, or very little and I would never rely on.  

It's too soon yet to think of the time which follows the intense pain caused by the event, the shock, the waiting for the dreaded closing ceremony...the time to come once life is reinstated for most involved and touched by him. I know that time for me will be emptiness, the kind that can only be filled by that which is missing.

I am talking to him, the same way I talk to my mother and mostly ask them to look after me; I ask him to find a way to come back to me, somehow. As I was struggling to find the right song for his funeral ceremony, one of those veteran caregivers, the one who by choice, by destiny - or whatever name it goes by and by practicality has been through this, day after day the first time around and is still here now, went to Liverpool. She went to the famous Cathedral and inside there was a lit sign saying: I felt you and I knew you loved me. She thought of us - there was little else on her mind then, even though her younger sister was visiting and they had just started to really connect. She took a picture and sent it to me, smiling and thanking him. She was wandering aimlessly through the streets of the city I had fallen in love with just a few month earlier, when she stumbled on a small church - she was drawn there by music, her kind of music, music that reminded her of an amazing night out we had all spent together..he was there, with three gorgeous girls, the envy of the entire pub. She saw a gate, on the gate a large, red heart, on the heart, a lock and on the lock the word Fragile. She froze, as this was the title of one of his favourite songs. The magic started when she realised a song was playing in the background and she heard the words Goodbye Baby, Baby Goodbye. She found the song and called me in a state of euphoria - the words were goodbye baby, I'm stepping out of your world and I know you won't like it, but I must go home..I'm coming to your party and you know I can't stay, but I'll give you a kiss before I go away. The best part of it was deep in your heart you know I'm coming back... For the first time since he died, I felt happy and this was the song I chose. Do people still talk to you when they go? He does ...he knew my mind is in over drive, my soul shattered, my senses hyphened so he made sure he gave the message to someone he could trust to understand it and pass it on to me. She also told me: in the next few days, weeks, months, don't think of what you should do about yourself, with yourself, don't look for anything within you; instead, try to look around you, to listen to people's conversations, to watch and he'll whisper some more. That night, as I laid in bed, calm, alert, i heard a loud I LOVE YOU from the street, followed by muffled speech. For me, this is enough and I don't need reassurance, research or confirmation.