Friend's grief brings my own to the fore
Today I’m writing at the end of what turned out to be an emotional day. The storm has been brewing all week, gathering momentum, building intensity. Today all of that emotion broke, resulting in me crying, messy and feeling emotionally adrift.
I wish I could tell you what my breaking point was but I don’t really know. My day started off fine: a workout in the pool, sassy Facebook post, connecting on Twitter. I changed four fluorescent lighting tubes which, for a short girl on a stool, was pretty sweet.
But while doing all this, I began to get in my own headspace and the thinking and overthinking and then the floodgates opened.
One of my major catalysts was learning a good friend had received news of the death of a treasured colleague, friend and mentor. I did not know the person who died but my heart immediately hurt knowing that once the shock wore off, his would hurt, too.
His friend was young — mid 60s — far too young to leave this world. And that made me think about life — our lives, my own life, the lives of my friends and family — how we just don’t know the number of our days.
This door opened up so many other doors. I had a conversation this week with a friend who is in a new relationship. It’s easy. It’s not confusing. They want to spend time together and are taking a trip together next month. I hope that for me someday. I hope that someone will want to spend their time with me, be a companion to me and I to them.
But it might not happen. What happens if I give my heart to someone I cannot be with? What happens if I give my heart to someone undeserving, someone unkind? What happens if I don’t give my heart to anyone and I’m alone for the rest of my days?
What risks am I willing to take to see if there is someone out there willing to take a risk and is looking for me?
What if I die alone?
I cried for this.
This will be my third Christmas without My Favourite Husband (MFH). While I chose to ignore the season in the aftermath of MFH's passing, this year I’ve decided to dip my toe into the season. But it overwhelms me. Decorate? Celebrate? Nothing feels wrong but nothing feels right. Start new traditions? Keep old ones? A mix of both? I wish it was all over with.
I cried for this.
Today, I briefly connected again with my friend navigating through loss. Our exchanges are different now as he focuses on grieving and day-to-day living. One comment he made was that he just read the online obituary of his friend. Knowing her name, I went online and read it. It was, quite honestly, the most beautiful tribute I’ve read. The writer, her sister, captured part of the essence of my friend's friend. It had humour. It described her life with words that jumped off the page with life. I did not know this amazing woman but I felt like I did. And I could see why people loved her, her sunshine. I could understand why my friend has a heart that aches. And reading about the difference she made in the lives of others just by being herself made me wonder what I was doing with my own life. Was I infusing light and positivity into the world? Was I making a difference in the lives of others? Did I live a life of gratitude?
I cried for this.
I sat in my house all day long and I wept. I’d stop momentarily, hope the tears were done but then another thought or memory would come and I began again. At some point, I realized everything was so jumbled that, if asked, I wouldn’t be able to pinpoint why I was crying. But I cried for my friend; I cried for life and death and for everything that makes up the two.
I cried for me.
At one point I turned on the TV and found a Hallmark Christmas movie and cried for “happily ever after” and ran out of Kleenex. And that’s when I knew something needed to break my sad.
I sent a text to my neighbours across the street telling them I had been crying nonstop almost all day. I was asked if they should come see me, or me go to see them across the street. I chose the latter, and was met with hugs and Kleenex and ears that listened and hearts that understand. The reality is in the two houses directly across the street are two single women around my age. And they understand the fear of dying alone. Of leaving this world and not knowing if they mattered, if they made a difference.
And so I wept. I spoke. I said out loud words that I said only in my head. And my storm started to pass and I could feel bits of peace seeping in.
After about an hour I went home, exhausted. I have very few days like this so I know I can, will and have weathered it.
I stopped crying.
❤️
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