Saturday, September 12, 2009

how is this different than any other day

I don't know why or how certain days, moments or thoughts hit me harder than others. ?Occasionally, I'll find myself sobbing as I fold Briar's old wool peacoat thinking that he has now outgrown his last article of clothing that his daddy saw him wear, or groaning with sad jealousy as I see another daddy swing his little girl up onto his shoulders or hiccupping with shock as sadness grips me remembering how he'd laugh at my penchant for the smell of his jacket, or tearing at myself in agony with grief when I re-realize that 'this' is forever.
I don't know if I can explain myself again. I feel as if I have articulated it so many times but not correctly. Not well enough. I can't spell it out correctly. I know I am saying it too much. But it just hasn't come out right yet.
Do you remember that awful longing, yearning you felt as a teenager for some person you thought would love you if they just got to know you? How you'd stare at those teen posters and know that you'd never meet them. Never be near them. Never know them. And it filled you with such a sense of loss that you would cry bitter tears of frustration.....Well, it's so very fucking different, but the same.
I look at pictures of him and want to scream out. I want to slam my fist into something and break things. I want to lay down and melt away. I see pictures of his family and search for traces of him and traces of our children.
I want to be near him. I want to smell him. I want to lean on him and cry. I want him to hold the back of my head with his massive hands and press my face into his and kiss my forehead. I felt so safe. So loved. So.....
And there is nothing I can do to alleviate this pain. No way that I can manifest the feelings of intimacy and closeness that we shared. No booming laugh, no funny stories, no inside jokes.
I feel such anger and frustration I want to break things. I want to say wicked words and blow something up. I want to spit. I want to retch. I want to vomit out all this ferocity and sadness. But it doesn't spill and pour out. It trickles... but it grows as well. A constant flow of bitterness.
I feel that I have been waiting all this time as I've swam toward the surface of a dark, black lake. Holding my breath, I had hoped for hope and thought that I'd break the surface to a dawning of some sorts. But as I emerge from the depths, I realize that the lake below was so dark because the sky above was black. And I feel lost.

12 comments:

Poppy and Mei said...

XXxx.

letterstoelias said...

I think you express it pretty perfectly - your words ring so true to my heart. Yet I also understand the longing to feel as though you're saying it right. I ramble so much I tend to struggle with the same. . .

Just moments before reading your blog I was lost in thought - trying to prolong the lonely treck back to my empty bedroom - and wondering if the constant feeling that this was all a big mistake and Elias will come back to me one day is some subconsious coping mechanism. Yet, it can't be as how can you cope with the pain of the inevitable realization, usually when staring at a photo of his face, that you will never again see the real thing.

I am so terribly sorry for what you are going through because I understand it far too well and wish no one else had to go through this, but I also thank you for your words Jackie - because no matter how many times/ways you try to express it, I feel less alone.

~C~

13mimosa said...

That does make sense Jackie, in a way I can understand. A desire to turn back time, to change just one moment so everything was different. I don't know you you cope with that feeling being constantly with you, I can't imagine. I do understand through what you say, although I don't either.

x

Suddenwidow said...

Well said, Jackie. You described the feeling very eloquently. It is like that. And it sucks! Thinking of you, my friend. Hope the sun comes out for a while today.
Debbie

Mrs. Spit said...

You describe it very well indeed. I'm sorry.

Hallie said...

Although we've never met, I feel I know you thru your honest expressions in words... I think you do so much good for people going thru the same things and yet make those of us that don't understand look at our lives differently too....I hope you reach your shore and find the hope again...

leigh in the sav said...

my heart breaks for you when i read of the ever-threatening sadness that can overtake a widower, or anyone struggling with loss, at any time. i think you articulate it beautifully and you should never feel that you share it too often. no such thing.

Jen said...

Ah, I'm sorry, Jackie. My thoughts are with you as you struggle through a rough patch. Hold on, and I hope the worst will pass in a little while.

Ashley said...

Although it is of no real comfort to you, please know that you are often in my thoughts and that I am wishing you peace always. I wish there was more I could do to help.

Mel said...

sending hugs and love, dear Jackie. I know it wouldn't be the same, but I wish I could wrap my arms around you during these down times.

Angie said...

the sky is black. well said once again. helps to see how someone else is dealing with this. thank you.

Crash Course Widow said...

No one ever told me in the first year that the pain wouldn't go away just because I passed the 1-yr mark, that things wouldn't automatically get better...or at a minimum, no one ever told me that there wasn't a clear "rock bottom" with a smooth, straight, linear improvement after it.

That grief is such a roller coaster, even over time, was a shock to me. I expected it to be awful the first year; I didn't expect it to continue much the same the second year. Yet it did. Except the screaming anger set in the second year and...oy. It was bad. Very, very bad.

It does get better eventually, I promise. It just takes a hell of a lot longer than any of us would ever like.

Sending you many, many ((((hugs)))). Hang in there....

Love ya,
Candice xoxo