16. Echos

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Written Monday, December 9, 2019 / Day 119 / Morning

There is no stability in the state of grief. At least so far in my journey that has been the case. There have been periods of relative calm, times where I almost think that I could say the word “stable” and really believe it.

Then without warning that stability is shattered. Often it has been an innocent gesture - innocent in the sense that I was not purposely thinking about my past life or any element of that time. Actually for now, I really try to not do that since it often leads to where I do not want to go.

Besides that change in tone - there is an unknown period of intensity that surfaces at various levels. It comes in waves it seems and depending on where that moment falls on the intensity scale - it is either totally disarming or moderately unsettling.

Either way it is not a good time.

Of course the theme is the loss. And not just the loss but the implications of the loss.

The central loss for sure - that is at the epicenter of it all. But then there are the secondary losses.

In my case those secondary losses have quite a large scope. Because in my case my wife and I had a very close relationship. Not only emotionally but physically.

I have written in previous essays how she was my life - literally. I could spend my time with no other one (obviously except for employment and necessary other responsibilities) nor would I have ever wanted to. That’s the way it is with someone you adore the way I adore her.

So the grief associated with these secondary losses comes quite regularly. And the topics are quite varied. Let’s see, well just about everything could be a topic of lamenting and mourning.

I think, if I have to visit each one - this will take a while - quite a while.

And then I snap out of it in a sense and say - no it does not have to be that way.

Yes I am missing half of my life - perhaps more. Okay, yes that is a lot to lose. But does each secondary loss have to beat me up so much?

Logic and knowledge do not have any place to live in grief - emotions are calling the shots based on whatever generates the energy they release. So whenever it comes it just comes.

Lately though, as I have been attempting to do with so many other aspects of this journey - I have become a bit more aggressive with my sessions.

If they are artifacts I proclaim, “You are not going to take me to a place of sadness!”. Not that it stops the sadness completely but it seems like I am at least trying to do something.

Because the sadness is just tiring. It is discouraging. It is negative. It is just so sad.

But then I tell myself - “Enough of this! I want to honor my dear sweetie by not being such a mess!”.

And if there is a certain amount of sadness that is required passage through this state of grief - so be it. But I am going to resist with all of my might going to an awful, dark place about whatever the situation of the moment tries to invoke.

These flashes of the past - these echos are haunting, compelling.

Compelling because my sweetie is there. And it represents a time of the past when we were together. But then the reality of the present lands straight on the center of the reflection - crushing it into little pieces.

And there I am like a 5 year-old that just broke their favorite toy. Right, that’s me.

My prayer continues to be that the power of the grief I feel, that overwhelming helplessness that descends upon me at these moments would be turned into strength and power.

Power to honor my sweetie by being strong in the memory of the love we had - the love I still have. And that power lifts me above the sadness.

A lot of that is because we knew what is ahead - and I know she is at peace awaiting the resurrection Paul speaks of in 1 Thessalonians 4:16. There is tremendous comfort in that.

So as I move carefully ahead, day by day, I will be alert for those echos of the past. I want them to be beacon of hope instead of a dark pit to fall into.

And in a way that is subtly happening. The overwhelming intensity of those moments has significantly subsided. So in that there is hope.

Now to survive the trip as I continue.

And relish in the goodness of the echos of the past and the love that was a part of them.

16. Echos

Written Monday, December 9, 2019 / Day 119 / Morning

There is no stability in the state of grief. At least so far in my journey that has been the case. There have been periods of relative calm, times where I almost think that I could say the word “stable” and really believe it.

Then without warning that stability is shattered. Often it has been an innocent gesture - innocent in the sense that I was not purposely thinking about my past life or any element of that time. Actually for now, I really try to not do that since it often leads to where I do not want to go.

Besides that change in tone - there is an unknown period of intensity that surfaces at various levels. It comes in waves it seems and depending on where that moment falls on the intensity scale - it is either totally disarming or moderately unsettling.

Either way it is not a good time.

Of course the theme is the loss. And not just the loss but the implications of the loss.

The central loss for sure - that is at the epicenter of it all. But then there are the secondary losses.

In my case those secondary losses have quite a large scope. Because in my case my wife and I had a very close relationship. Not only emotionally but physically.

I have written in previous essays how she was my life - literally. I could spend my time with no other one (obviously except for employment and necessary other responsibilities) nor would I have ever wanted to. That’s the way it is with someone you adore the way I adore her.

So the grief associated with these secondary losses comes quite regularly. And the topics are quite varied. Let’s see, well just about everything could be a topic of lamenting and mourning.

I think, if I have to visit each one - this will take a while - quite a while.

And then I snap out of it in a sense and say - no it does not have to be that way.

Yes I am missing half of my life - perhaps more. Okay, yes that is a lot to lose. But does each secondary loss have to beat me up so much?

Logic and knowledge do not have any place to live in grief - emotions are calling the shots based on whatever generates the energy they release. So whenever it comes it just comes.

Lately though, as I have been attempting to do with so many other aspects of this journey - I have become a bit more aggressive with my sessions.

If they are artifacts I proclaim, “You are not going to take me to a place of sadness!”. Not that it stops the sadness completely but it seems like I am at least trying to do something.

Because the sadness is just tiring. It is discouraging. It is negative. It is just so sad.

But then I tell myself - “Enough of this! I want to honor my dear sweetie by not being such a mess!”.

And if there is a certain amount of sadness that is required passage through this state of grief - so be it. But I am going to resist with all of my might going to an awful, dark place about whatever the situation of the moment tries to invoke.

These flashes of the past - these echos are haunting, compelling.

Compelling because my sweetie is there. And it represents a time of the past when we were together. But then the reality of the present lands straight on the center of the reflection - crushing it into little pieces.

And there I am like a 5 year-old that just broke their favorite toy. Right, that’s me.

My prayer continues to be that the power of the grief I feel, that overwhelming helplessness that descends upon me at these moments would be turned into strength and power.

Power to honor my sweetie by being strong in the memory of the love we had - the love I still have. And that power lifts me above the sadness.

A lot of that is because we knew what is ahead - and I know she is at peace awaiting the resurrection Paul speaks of in 1 Thessalonians 4:16. There is tremendous comfort in that.

So as I move carefully ahead, day by day, I will be alert for those echos of the past. I want them to be beacon of hope instead of a dark pit to fall into.

And in a way that is subtly happening. The overwhelming intensity of those moments has significantly subsided. So in that there is hope.

Now to survive the trip as I continue.

And relish in the goodness of the echos of the past and the love that was a part of them.

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