I sat down the other night weary to the bone. Beyond that even, weary to the core of my soul. "Why?", I asked myself. "Why am I so very wearied just now?"
Well, it's not just now. It's been building over the past few months. Starting the long waiting day of March 21 and going all the way through this past weekend. Sunday evening, I sat down and looked at my calendar. There was nothing to do. No appointments to keep, no bills to pay, no big chores planned, no time out with the grandchildren. I don't need any groceries, or to run any errands.
I promised John that I'd not carry on and on as though I'd lost him for all eternity. I've held my head up in public and smiled and I've told everyone that I'm fine, I'm okay. And I am. Truly I am. I've eaten sensible meals and gotten dressed each day. I've gotten up with the alarm every single morning that has come along and gone to bed at mostly sensible hours. I've worked in my home and yard, on projects and taken time out to be with family, go to church, have allowed time for a phone call or visit from a friend. I've done all things as normally and naturally as I could do.
But after 16 weeks of doing these things, plus the hard things, the seemingly impossible things, doing everything I could to deal with legal stuff in a timely manner, I feel like it's time to allow myself the option of something I haven't had time for: being sad, venting my sorrow. Time for grieving all that I've lost: partner, lover, husband, roles, dreams of what these years would be like with John, things that made me feel safe, things that gave me confidence.
That was when I gave myself permission. Permission to be sad. Permission to cry as long as I felt like. Permission to grieve as I have needed to do for weeks on end. Permission to sleep late in the morning or go to bed early. Permission to stay up all night if needed and sleep all day. Permission to sorrow and wail while I was all alone. Permission to stop being busy and simply be. Permission to feel all that I have held back.
It has all become too heavy to keep dragging around with me. It's time to loosen the knots and let it go...
Next week regular life returns. Appointments, childcare, errands, projects, work, routines...
But this week, I have permission to be sad.
P.S. And to go with this week's dose of sadness I bid goodbye to Charley Rufus, who called me his owner for 8 years.
Oh sweetie, I don't know how you have held up so long. A rug has been pulled out from under you that massively changes you for the rest of your life. True that you have loving family members and a strong faith, but still......the world is upside down.
ReplyDeleteYes, my world has been changed. I need time to adjust to the changes.
DeleteYou most certainly deserve time to grieve in whatever way you want. Take the time for sadness and longing and whatever else needs feeling. I think of you daily and hold you close to my heart. ♥
ReplyDeleteAlso, I'm sorry about Rufus.
DeleteThank you, Tammy dear. I had to come to terms with the fact that I'd drawn too hard a line between John's request not to grieve as though all life had come to an end and the need to remember that grief is necessary.
DeleteI hope you are able to find peace my friend… that is my prayer for you. I pray you feel John’s presence always. I’m praying for your little guy Rufus as well, I know he’s been a loyal companion.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Liz. Rufus was very much his own self, loyal and loving and happy right up to the end.
DeleteYou have every right to be sad. The aftermath of a loss seems to follow a path, as in the pattern of grieving. You soldiered on, doing all that was necessary after John's passing. I may be way out in left field, but this seems like a new season for you. The Anonymous reader hit it on the head...the world is upside down. Just as you finished the "business" of taking care of John's affairs, you have another apple cart to put to rights. I have no doubt you will find your path. In essence, John gave you "permission" to go on to live your life. And that is what you are doing. Terri, I have great admiration for you. Some widows never pick up their life again, grieving their families in the process.
ReplyDeleteSo sorry for the loss of Rufus. Our fur-babies are an important part of our lives too.
Donna, yes, I needed to soldier on or I'd not have gotten it all done. And I've seen those women who never pick up their live again and cause their family pain. I think it is so sad and yes, even self-indulgent. But I had to come to the realization that all grief is not self-indulgent. Some of it is necessary or we cripple ourselves and others in other ways as well.
DeleteThank you for your condolences on Rufus. He will be long remembered.
There is no way out but through. Please give yourself grace and allow grieving and rest. Sending you love and peace.
ReplyDeleteWell dear, you have just quoted back to me the one piece of advice I have shared with all of my girls...No way out but through.
DeleteSo sorry about Rufus Terri. Thought you might like knowing that you are a blessing to me. Sending prayers as always. Love Tracey.
ReplyDeleteThank you Tracey!
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