One Year Later

It has been a year since the day that turned my life into before and after.  It all began in December 2022, when Mark, my husband, and I took our whole family on a cruise celebrating my retirement, my younger daughter's engagement and my older daughter's 40th birthday.  Everything was perfect, until... the last port we stopped at, when Mark told me he hadn't been feeling well.  Eight months later we all were weeping in a room in intensive care at Duke University Hospital, after his life support was turned off.  I will never forget the moment Brodie, his nurse, gently put his hand on my back and whispered to me, "He's gone." 

Today marks a year since I became a half who is no longer part of a whole, since I am no longer part of a couple. There is always an empty chair when I go out with my married friends and then there's the few married friends who no longer invite me out.  People also look at me differently; I see the pity in their expressions, or sometimes they look at me and I wonder if they're thinking, "thank god I'm not her" or worse, when they look away as if I have something contagious. 

There's a specific vocabulary that you hear when you're stuck in the reality of death.  These are words you've heard before, but now they sting or worse, punch you in the gut when you hear them~ deceased, loss, condolences, sorry (over and over and over again) never, and alone.  And that horrid word that begins and ends with a "w".  I hate that word and I hate that box that you have to check when you're filling in forms.  There's also the words you can't say anymore, like we or us; that stings even more

I have to admit, though, that this year has not been as horrible as I just made it sound.  This year I've learned how much I am loved, how much I am thought of, how lucky I am to have wonderful children, grandchildren, siblings, cousins, friends, and neighbors who are there for me whenever I need them.  I am not as alone as I thought I was. 

I have also gained a certain amount of liberation that has afforded me the courage to do things on my own like redecorate my house- I bought a new couch, new bedding and made some other changes.  I traded in our old car and bought a new one.  I remember to take out the garbage and recycling, I even unstuffed the toilet all by myself.  I also recovered from major heart surgery and Covid.  I have never lived by myself- I came from a large family and my grandmother lived with us and then I got married at 22.  I never thought I would be able to make it without him, but I survived this year, which I never thought I could or would. 

I still have dreams and plans, except sadly, they can't include Mark.  I miss him more than I ever could have imagined.  It still feels surreal.  Grief is exhausting and unpredictable.  I cry every day, but the only time I wept uncontrollably was when I had to put our beloved dog, Sonny, down three months after Mark died.  I know I need to cry more, to release the hurt and pain. I told my therapist recently that I gained 10 pounds this year and I think it might be all those tears I haven't cried.  It feels as if my whole life was taken away, and in reality, it was.  And it sucks.  But, as they say, life goes on.

To be continued...