Is it strange that six months and thirteen days after my beloved Jeffrey died, I still forget that he is gone? It's brief. Just a moment. But I will suddenly think, "I have to remember to tell him..." I still pick up the phone to call him. I still think I hear him snoring. I still think I feel his love for me. It's hard to remember that he's gone. It's impossible to forget him.
My grandfather is ill. He needs help with some things. I keep thinking that Jeff will come lend a hand. He won't anymore. He can't.
I am so used to being loved by Jeff. I am so accustomed to knowing that he was out there somewhere thinking of me and the kids. I still can't wrap my head around his absence. I don't think I ever will. But I so wish I could feel the reassurance of his love and the safety of his presense.
Fourteen.
1 year ago
8 comments:
He is still out there somewhere thinking of you and the kids, and loving you just as he used to. The crappy unfair part is that he isn't here with you in person.
I hope your grandpa is okay.
It's not at all strange. I'm three months and change behind you, but I still have those flickers of "forgetting." Though I know I haven't forgotten Neil is gone (how could I?), there's still a moment of "holy shit, he's dead" that happens almost daily. I just had one of those, in fact, after a day of feeling relatively "normal." It sucks, but at least we know that everyone in our situation goes through the same things. Does that help? Who knows, but it was good to read your post after the moment I had mere minutes earlier. Take care.
Dear Jackie:
It is impossible for me to believe that if someone loved us, or we loved them, even for a moment in time, that that love would ever become anything less than the love it once was.
When I was pregnant with my second child I was so worried that I could never love another child as much as I loved my first daughter. It was actually my biggest concern during my pregnancy. Then, as if by magic, the instant my baby was born all of my worry transformed into an amazing glowing ball of LOVE. I could never love my children less than I do now......but maybe I could love them more.....and I imagine that love energy will forever be unfolding as love.
My Grandmother, who I adored, died last year at the age of 98. I would have to say that she was one of my greatest teachers, and I am believing more and more that she was one of the very best people who walked the face of this earth. She loved me, more I think every day, and I loved her like I have never loved another. Even though she is gone, I still feel her presence and her love, and I often think that she guides me still by some invisible web that she has spun between us.
I guess in between my words I am attempting to point out that you and Jeff loved each other intensely before he died and because his physical self is no longer where he is tangible enough to touch, you can still feel him in the background, you can still see him and touch him in your dreams, and you can imagine him in your thoughts somewhere else doing things he used to do. Do you ever wonder if he too is thinking of picking up the phone to call you and realizing that he can't talk to you that way any more either? This sounds/feels like love to me. Big and real and still alive.
Big hugs today from Indianapolis!
Barb
I think the love that you all had for each other keeps him very close.
He's still loving you, always loving you.
::wrapping my arms around and hugging you::
he is still here. there. wherever you are - he is with you. through your children, through their laughter and their hearts. through your strength and your gentle nature. through it all - he is there.
It took me until right after the 1-year anniversary for it to finally sink in that Charley was never, ever coming back. Despite that I'm a rational, intelligent person and that yes, I *knew* he obviously wasn't coming back--he was DEAD, for chrissakes--but there was always a small part of me that first year that held out hope that it was all somehow a big mistake. Yet somehow I didn't actually literally think, "Oh, I need to call Charley and tell him this," at all that first year. The only time I ever actually thought it was about 15 months after his death, when I found out one of his favorite coworkers was pregnant with her second child. And then there was only once when my phone rang that I uncontrollably thought, "Hey, maybe it's Charley!"...and again, it was in that 12- to 15-months-out timeframe. Somehow I managed not to "forget" he was dead until then. I'm not sure if I did it again after those two times. But I could never, ever wrap my head around the fact that he was just GONE, in a split second. Sometimes I *still* can't wrap my brain around that fact and that he's *still* gone.
The good news is that it's still impossible to forget some things about Charley even now, even at 3+ years out. It's not as easy to recall as it was that first 6 months, that first year, but every now and then I get a surprise "gift" where my mind can suddenly remember something about him with crystal clarity. The sound of his laugh, what it felt like to hug him, how he held a wine glass or talked on the phone. But those gifts don't come nearly often enough, unfortunately....
Hang in there. And I'm so sorry about your grandpa too.
Hugs,
Candice
Ditto what Candice said.
You are perfectly within the realm of normal. You will always remember him, and love him.
At some point in the future, even the not so distant future, you will be able to think of him and you will be able to get through your days without feeling lost and mixed-up.
I promise.
Just keep going. One more breath, one more hour, one more day, and then another. You can do it.
Love,
Melodie
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