Still breathing

Writing about grief has helped me understand my own mourning process. Each time I sit down and come up with something to write I have to examine my own feelings and reactions with greater clarity than I might otherwise. Thank you for continuing to indulge me.

Some days I just don't have anything new to say about it. Today is one of those days but there are still fragments floating about in my mind. Here are a few of them; I may end up expanding some into full blog posts but today none are demanding more attention than any others. I hope some resonate with you, please let me know.

• I am breathing. I am here. I am still missing Kevin, I always will, but I want to find a way to relish the rest of my life; he would want nothing less. He told me as much, not long before he died. To do otherwise would be to dishonor what we built together, who he saw when he looked at me.
• There are whole weeks now that will pass without tears. When I notice I feel at once relieved and guilty.
• I live in a constant state of dissonance. I am still alive. I am still here. I am, fairly frequently, glad of that fact. In the beginning I wanted nothing more than to have the earth swallow me whole. It feels odd, not yearning for nothingness anymore. It is hard to admit that it feels good. Yet there is still the yearning, still the heartbreak. I am more than I was and yet less.
• I keep wanting to tell him about all of the good things in my life now. I do tell him but his responses are much subtler. 
• I still will not be told how to grieve. Several people have tried. Some have told me it's "about time" I feel better. No. I will still grieve in my own season as should anyone who has suffered a substantial loss. Anyone who is uncomfortable with my grief doesn't need to be in my life.
• The love will never end. It doesn't have to. 
• I will continue to change. Which sometimes makes me so sad. I know Kevin would be really proud of what I am doing now. That I have moved, am working, am building new things... I like to think he is beaming at me, proud of how I've been so much more than I thought I could be without him.
• I've likened grief to a roller coaster before. Now it's beginning to feel more like a river. It has currents and eddies, rapids and slow spots, there are places where it turns back on itself and places where it rushes forward. It is an ongoing journey. Thinking of it this way helps; I have always loved rivers. 

I will never stop mourning Kevin. But I will, and I am, learn how to live without him in my every day life. I am certain I will still have times when I would rather not be. I am certain I will still have times when I howl from the pain. But I am equally certain I will continue to breath, continue to learn, continue to love, continue to live. I am still breathing.

(c)2015 Laura S. Packer