I've been thinking today about two points made in yesterdays support group meeting.
#1 The amount of time spent grieving before a loved one dies shapes your journey... and
#2 One of the five tasks of grief is accepting your loved ones death.
Hearing the first point quickly had me reflecting on all the moments tears fell, during the 2 1/4 years Mike fought for his life. I desperately held on for a miracle, but I knew what we were up against, and with each of those 791 days, reality crossed my mind and I grieved.
I think the first six months after Mike passed, I was simply stunned there wasn't additional time to keep hoping we could pull out of this. And frankly, I was just exhausted and in this state of denial! When I look back at what we did to keep going as long as we did...angels simply had to be doing the work. There is nothing in either of us that could explain it any better. 75% was Mike's fight. He wanted to live so badly and rarely thought he couldn't beat his cancer. But the other part of his care...was simply God working through everyone's prayers. I don't know why I could be so prepared with the possibility of losing Mike, those 791 days, and then have it be such a shock as well.
Last night, point #2 was addressed. When we're suppose to "accept" our loved ones death. When we force ourselves to realize there will be no more pictures with Mike from here on out. When the timeline changes from what was before...Mike and Bev....to just Bev. It was like cold water in my face with that comment and I was enraged at the suggestion.
Everything about me lately, has been trying to hang on to the life I had with Mike, because I realize how special, and rare it was. I don't want to let go because I don't want to be without it. I don't want to forget. In many ways, I'm ruined by the love he gave me. I'll likely never be adored the same way again. He use to tell me, "Nobody will ever love you like I do" and that was enough to convince me he was right.
The months following his loss, my heart ached to be held. My hands felt lost without his to hold them. The shoulder I cried on, was gone. The tight hug of reassurance was missing. I missed the sounding board he gave me to hear what I was feeling. I ached to be told I would be okay, and I was lost navigating through so many unknown paths, of legal issues, finances, and family situations. I tried to find that help in other people, but it wasn't there. I quickly realized how much I leaned on Mike, and how much he fed my self-worth. I also felt overwhelmingly lonely...beyond just missing his physical presence. He knew my heart. He knew my true intentions. He new my limitations.
So there has been a huge identity crisis going on within me. And, letting go of Mike and accepting his death, is largely letting go of who I have been the last 35 years. I know my identity should be in Jesus Christ and in His love for me. But certainly you can understand, from a marriage and relationship stand point, here on earth, how it has impacted me. I'm fearful of who I'll become now. I don't want my life with Mike to be only a memory. I don't want to let go of being married to him. I don't want to remove any pictures, or any wedding bands, any clothing or anything that ties a memory to him. Yet, painfully, I see the last pictures of Mike with his grandsons, and recognize the time has lapsed. It speaks the truth whether I want to hear it, or not. So I wrestle on with my feelings and I know a change is going to take place whether I want it to or not. For some reason, God is allowing it...and I need to believe and trust He knows what's best for me.
Lord, I need your help. You can already see my struggle and my resistance to change. Only You have the capability of filling these gaps. Please don't allow me to slip away. Please protect my heart and my mind. Give me the strength to face what I need to, and the light to find my way.
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