Last couple of days have been tough. Full of churning memories from last year. I have felt sick with sadness and the anger I so like to deny. Remembering the hospital corridors, the deceiving beauty of the outside, that elevator, the wait by the locked door.
David and I both individually and as a couple loved being outside. As soon as snow had melted we would be packing the deckchairs ready for the beach. Nobody could tan like David, and he used to say: "Well I gotta be good at something."
It is literally ripping my heart at the seams to think that the last two months of his life were spent inside. I hate this. I keep telling myself that there is no point in going over last year, yet how do I let go of this pain?
Trying to be busy, yes, I am doing that. Tons of work, an innate ability to go places alone, great, yep, I'm doing that, Advil PM, Bowie playing loud in the car with all the windows down, yep, got it covered, and yet, I cannot reach peace or even a second where my heart will settle long enough to release.
This is grief. Endlessly questioning yourself, in the past and the now. Swinging back and forth. Have another cup of tea. Smile at a stranger. Long just to rest your head against someones shoulder and hear them say, its going to get easier - because dear God, if this doesn't get easier, I don't want to play anymore. At times it isn't even about the person you have lost - its about the emptiness you have gained. The medal you feel you have earned. You even want someone to congratulate you, throw a fucking party, anything, just not the silence and the distance you feel within yourself because you are freezing your soul from being hurt further.
I'm writing this, with the pressure of hope, that it help. Let me see something new that I did not create myself. Not to erase, that's not possible. Just, let there be another layer that is not as harsh as this one. A time when I can enjoy the sun without thinking of last year. A moment that will prove me wrong and take my breath away again. Something that lasts longer than a moment, so that I can hold on with a better grasp and not let go. How ironic that we (it can't just be me) need to let go and yet here I am talking of longing to hold onto something new. Perhaps we are always trying to chase the parents hand we wanted to hold onto - or to feel that security we once had, if you were fortunate to.