I am starting to use the hard words. Like “died.” I am trying to get used to saying it – Kirk died. Until recently, I couldn’t say it at all. I would say “the night of the accident” or “since it happened” or “since I lost him” or sometimes even “when he was taken” (that’s how it feels – like he was taken). Once in a while, in my head, I have even found myself saying “since he left me.” I knew that at some point, I needed to start saying the real word – died. I don’t like that word.
So why say it now? I think because I am beginning to accept it a little. Not “accept” as in it’s okay – just “accept” as in starting to believe it’s for real. The absolute inability to understand that this is forever may be starting to fade. I use the word “inability” intentionally. It is not an unwillingness to accept forever – I have actually been mentally and emotionally unable to comprehend the permanence of this.
I thought “acceptance” would somehow be easier than the initial shock and denial. Instead it is just different. It is more subtle, less of a roller coaster. The sadness is different – not as many tears, just quietly depressing. Even yesterday, the day I wrote about the night of the accident, was a relatively quiet day in my head – not as emotional as you might have thought from reading what I wrote.
If this is “acceptance,” it also feels more isolated. Lonelier than before – I think until recently I was so packed with rioting emotion that it took all my energy to get through a day, and the loneliness was there but was not the biggest issue. And because I couldn’t get that he wasn’t coming back, I think subconsciously the loneliness seemed temporary. Now as the extreme emotion becomes less demanding of my attention, I notice the aloneness more. I have known that I would eventually need to start new habits, new patterns, but so far I haven’t done too much about it because the time didn’t seem right yet. I think the time may be coming.
The really strange thing is that at the same time I begin to accept what has happened, I am starting to have episodes where I forget that he is gone. Before now, I didn’t grasp the permanence, yet I never once tried to call him or do anything else that indicated I truly forgot he was gone. I would think “I would have talked to him about that” or “I wish he could be here for this.” But I never actually tried to call him, or forgot he wouldn’t be there when I got home.
Now, I am starting to actually do things as if I thought he was here. Over the weekend, I was feeling so sad about everything, and I thought “I’ll talk to Kirk about it when I get home.” That made me feel better for an instant until I realized I couldn’t. This morning, I reached for the phone to call him. I remembered in time, though.
I don’t understand why when I couldn’t believe he was gone forever, I never forgot for a minute that I had lost him. And now that I am starting to accept that I have lost him, I sometimes forget he is gone. Grieving is the single most confusing thing I have ever done.
Nonetheless, I am doing okay right now. I do laugh, I do smile, I do not cry all the time. I sleep okay, I actually cook sometimes (the most popular question after How Are You Doing is What Are You Eating). Still no joy or deep down real happiness, but I am not a mess anymore. At least not lately.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
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