Grieving...

People have recently come into my life that walk a similar path as mine. It has been good to talk about all the crap that we endure everyday. It makes me feel less alone and not quite so crazy!

And someone told me the other day that I was doing well, so much better than she had at 4+ months. But I reminded her…all our paths our different. And although I believe we all have distinct similarities in grieving. The process is unique to each of us. Also, I think it is different if you lost your loved one unexpectedly or through a long, drawn out illness. Neither way is better. It is just different. The griving is still similar, but the path to that grief is different.

So, although David’s battle with Cancer was hell. For me, some gifts came out of it. We had over 2 years to work through some of this together. That was always when we did our best work. Together. He was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor in June 2006. No…we did not give up the battle then. But I think we both began processing some of this, if only in tiny increments. And as everything progressed…David began to prepare both him and me of the possible and unfortunately inevitable outcome. He talked about the future. My future. And my life without him. A dear friend recently told me that David was so brave facing death because he wanted to come to terms with it quickly. He needed to because he was completely focused on Alec and I…and doing everything in his power to make this loss as bearable as possible. Amazing. He was dying and yet even in his final weeks he was consumed with final preparations for Alec and I.

He went shopping for Alec and bought an insane amount of toys ranging in age appropriateness from 3 to 9. Thus, ensuring that I would have gifts for Alec that daddy had specifically bought for him for many years to come. He did videos as well for both Alec and I and he also wrote little cards for me. This was all post-stroke…so sometimes they are a tad wackier than normal. But they are still David. And they are beautiful. I have been opening the cards slowly. Tending to save them for when I am having a dreadfully dark day. Sometimes they lift my spirits. Sometimes I cry and cry. But they always make me smile, even amongst the tears. Because I know I was loved. So deeply. And love like that transcends everything. He still loves me even now. And I him. Death can not separate us…I think we will forever be connected.

But David left me other gifts as well. At the time I did not realize how special or unique they were. But now I do. David used to talk about once he was gone frequently. Especially in his final months. And he would talk about how I had to live. Live for the both of us. He wanted me to be happy and enjoy life. Enjoy it for both of us since he could not...and he wanted me to move on. Someday. I used to get so upset when he would talk to me about finding someone someday to make me happy. That he did not want me to spend my remaining years alone. I hated it. But now, I realize how amazingly much he loved me. And how selfless he was. He said he knew he would always be my love and soulmate…but that I would be ok.

I remember one night sitting on the couch with him…having a cup of tea. And out of the blue he looked at me and said that someday when I found someone else who could make me smile...to enjoy it. But never to compare another man to him. “They broke the mold with me,” he said…”Just like they broke the mold with you my love. There will never be another me out there and don’t go looking for it. You will never find it. And it would be unfair to any man to compare him to me. It would not be fair to you or him. You will find something different. And that is ok. Be happy.” I wanted to scream. I wanted him to stop talking about when he was gone. I wanted to stop thinking about the fact that he was dying. That soon I would be alone. That albeit death is inevitable, it was coming much earlier for him than I had ever expected. How could he be so calm? I remember how I cried that night. God I cried. How could he talk about me moving on? How could he talk about me enjoying life again someday? With or without someone.

But now, knowing how very much he wanted me to be happy…to live…is one of the main reasons I get up everyday. I keep moving forward and do not let myself get mired down in all the pain and loss because of him.

But I digress; a friend said I was doing so well for only being 4-months out. But really, I began grieving long ago. It is hard to explain, although after speaking to a few widows/ers who lost their loved ones to a prolonged illness…it is not as crazy or uncommon as I thought. I probably began grieving a teeny bit way back in June of 2006. And I know that in April of this year, after the final surgery and subsequent stroke I began grieving heavily. Not to say that I stopped living life and making the most of every precious moment with David. But we knew. We both knew the slippery slope we were on. And once we decided to stop all treatments back in June…it became not an issue of if…but when. And I cried myself to sleep almost every night.

So, maybe I am doing well for being 4+ months out. Although, I do not feel like it. I have been in hell and continue to be. But I began grieving long before David physically died...Strange and fucked up as it may be. It is just how it is. And as I slowly watched David’s body shut down…I grieved because I could physically see him slowly slipping away from me. And there was not a damn thing I could do. Nothing.

God how I hate Cancer. I hate all of it. But I am grateful that we had the precious time to say our good byes. David knew I loved him and he me. We were able to talk about the future and his wishes for Alec and I. I was able to care for him. Love him. And do everything in my power to make many of his wishes a reality during his remaining time on this earth. He was never alone and he knew I loved him. Adored him. And he knew I would be there to the very end and do whatever I had to...to make sure he was comfortable, safe and warm. And I was with him, stroking his arm as he took his last breath. He did not die alone. He died knowing he was loved. It may not bring me comfort…but it has given me some peace…even if it is only brief and fleeting.

I will try to do all the things David wanted me to. Live. Play. Make art. Travel. Much will be for him…and maybe someday I will do it for myself as well. But I will make him proud. And strangely enough, I feel as if he is always with me and in some surreal way experiencing the joy and future with me. He will always be with me and someday when I get off this ride. I won’t have to tell him of all of the adventures I had, because he will have been there with me the whole time…experiencing them with me too.