Parted
"...and just like that, [he, Mikel, anam cara, mo gar] was gone."
My dear man died at 2:10 in the afternoon, Saturday June 30. He had suffered a stroke on June 18 and his poor body could not recover.
After my dad died in 2007, I read everything I could find about the grieving process. I actually became kind of an authority on it; I read C.S. Lewis' A Grief Observed, and wrote down my own observations on how my body handled grief. I even joined a grief counseling group at my church. I sobbed through a heart breaking scene in Ken Follet's mammoth Pillars of the Earth, during which the main character and her brother must say goodbye to their living father, and promise never to revisit him in the Mideivil jail.
Everything was cathartic and wonderfully helpful. I really thought I had learned something. But this grief still feels entirely foreign. I find myself wondering if it will ever lessen, whether my heart will ever stop hurting. Mornings are the hardest. They're a reminder that I must drag myself through another day without Mikel. This being the first Monday of my new, lonely life, I'm still very happily in bed at Noon. I can hardly fathom getting up and feeding myself, even though it's almost lunchtime.
My mind knows what my body needs. My heart can only cry out that there is nothing left on this planet that could do me any good. How do you carry on when your heart is missing?
Mikel promised me "one good year" when I had first moved in with him. I thought he'd at least wait until after we were married, but that wasn't what he had in mind. He gave me one good year after all; and what an amazing year it was. Now for the rest of my life I will have the precious gem of a love that Heaven made, bringing two people together who were more right for each other than can be expressed. Now and forever, my darling. I will love you until I hold you again.
My dear man died at 2:10 in the afternoon, Saturday June 30. He had suffered a stroke on June 18 and his poor body could not recover.
After my dad died in 2007, I read everything I could find about the grieving process. I actually became kind of an authority on it; I read C.S. Lewis' A Grief Observed, and wrote down my own observations on how my body handled grief. I even joined a grief counseling group at my church. I sobbed through a heart breaking scene in Ken Follet's mammoth Pillars of the Earth, during which the main character and her brother must say goodbye to their living father, and promise never to revisit him in the Mideivil jail.
Everything was cathartic and wonderfully helpful. I really thought I had learned something. But this grief still feels entirely foreign. I find myself wondering if it will ever lessen, whether my heart will ever stop hurting. Mornings are the hardest. They're a reminder that I must drag myself through another day without Mikel. This being the first Monday of my new, lonely life, I'm still very happily in bed at Noon. I can hardly fathom getting up and feeding myself, even though it's almost lunchtime.
My mind knows what my body needs. My heart can only cry out that there is nothing left on this planet that could do me any good. How do you carry on when your heart is missing?
Mikel promised me "one good year" when I had first moved in with him. I thought he'd at least wait until after we were married, but that wasn't what he had in mind. He gave me one good year after all; and what an amazing year it was. Now for the rest of my life I will have the precious gem of a love that Heaven made, bringing two people together who were more right for each other than can be expressed. Now and forever, my darling. I will love you until I hold you again.
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