In just under two hours it will be two weeks since my beloved died. A lot has happened in that time. So little has happened. I am living suspended. I think that's the nature of grief, especially in these early days.
In the last two weeks I have cried more than I had in the last 40 years. Maybe cumulatively.
I have felt worse and known worse is yet to come.
I have had glints of hope and resilience which then led to a consuming sense of loss.
I have been supported and loved by communities and people I never would have expected.
I have discovered the zen of coloring books.
I have gotten a tattoo I love for reasons I hate.
I have written letter after letter that I don't know if you can read but I write them anyway. I don't know where to mail them.
I have gone without eating and I have binged.
I have slept and awakened in a state of wild confusion that disintegrates into tears.
I have tasted the loneliness and possibility of the coming years and I have yearned to reject it all.
I have looked at the world in awe and thought the world is still here. how can the world be here?
Two weeks ago your heart was still beating, your pulse strong under my fingertips. Two weeks ago I (and those with you) were wondering is this it? until it was it. Two weeks ago I could still harbor some hope that maybe this was a dream.
Two weeks ago.
I want to write that the love remains. That I still feel it and I believe, somewhere, you do too. That the love you created in your life is not lost. I want to write that this gives me solace. And maybe that's true. But I also want to write Bullshit. It's not enough. And maybe that's true, too.
I am living suspended.
(c)2014 Laura S. Packer