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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
This is a phenomenal post. You have such an incredible way of rendering thoughts, feelings and more into words. My writer-grandfather called this "The flesh made word." You incarnate through your writing. Often, I read your words and can think of no suitable reply (I'm not implying that this is a suitable reply, as it's written purely out of my own needfulness). I just read, and feel, and ponder. The best writing does this.
ReplyDeleteWow............................................so powerful, honest and devastating. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry, Laura. Know that we are here, with you. You are alone, and you are not alone. Love, Suzan
ReplyDeleteDear Laura,
ReplyDeleteThank you for the courage to keep on writing. Thank you for showing us what love and grief mean. I so wish I could hug you tight and sit with you through "time".
Sending you waves of love,
Eva
It is not easy to live inside a hurricane. It is not easy to have one foot in hell and one foot on earth. It is not easy to cry a river. It is easy to feel guilty because you laughed out loud. It is easy to believe this cloud will stay forever. Is not easy to put one foot in front of the other. Yet to find your way through each new day is the task at hand. It's not easy. Hopefully it gets a tiny tiny bit easier with each new sun rise. Here's hoping that one tiny ray of sun will dry one tiny tear. Here's hoping the hurricane slows to just a tropical storm. Believe if you can that the gentle spring breezes wants most of all to gently comfort you. It's easy they say. We have done it for 10 million years. I want so much for this to be true.
ReplyDeleteLove to you sweetheart. Keep writing. I don't know what else to say. We're listening.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Laura.
ReplyDelete--ANDY