June

It's been a year.

I have made it no secret that the past month has been difficult. My birthday, Father's day, the year marking of Bill's death and our wedding anniversary are all within a ten day span. While I am certainly allowed to have ups and downs in my grief, I also realize it is hard for those around me to watch. 

There is a glass house that comes to those who grieve a loss this big. All along I have been marveled at for my strength and bravery. But I have also been very sad and scared and lonely. A year later I am still having episodes of total devastation and breakdown. I cannot be a beacon of light all the time. I am not a phoenix rising up from the ashes of this horrible storm. I cannot demonstrate inspirational resilience all the time. I am allowed to be weak. To be human. No one person should ever have to shoulder this burden and there are no set instructions on how to navigate this storm. We all have to follow our own path.

Grief is not some neat and tidy emotion that follows a set path on a continuing decline until there is none left. It doesn't magically end at an anniversary date. It is always there. Lurking in the shadows of the easier times, waiting to emerge. When it rears its ugly head, the visit may be brief or it may be lengthy. It is not some pretty package you can place on a shelf and open with it is convenient. Yes, I may be short tempered with my kids sometimes. Yes, I may seem distant at times. I might hide in my closet when I am at the end of my rope and cry. That is the reality of grief. And that is ok. This is my journey.

Through all of this grief I have learned a greater appreciation of my life both past and present. I very much love, while I grieve, what was. He was a truly amazing man in every sense of the word. The details of his death are senseless and tragic. He gave me a really beautiful gift in the life and love we shared together. I will always celebrate that. I will also continue to mourn that. We miss him EVERY. DAY. Our hearts ache for him EVERY. DAY.

And I also love what is. The friendships we have forged and the distance we have come this past year have been extraordinary. The interpersonal growth that has taken place is remarkable. 

Over this past month I have come to realize that the anticipation of the event is almost always worse than the actual event. I woke up today and it was Sunday. And just like every other day for the last 364 days, he wasn't here. I made my kids pancakes. I took the dog for her walk. I went to the gym for a spin workout since this broken collarbone is preventing me from getting outside on a bike. The kids played with their friends. Later this afternoon we will gather with our close friends for a picnic at the park in remembrance of  Bill, but also to celebrate all of the collateral beauty we have experienced this past year. 

So while this has been a month full of events I was sure I was not prepared to handle, I have managed to do just that. My friend said to me this morning, "I am so glad we are here today, and not where we were a year ago." Nothing could be more true right now. I will not be getting an urgent phone call from Bill's friends and the police officer today. I will not have to wake up tomorrow morning and tell my children their father was killed. And instead of celebrating what should be our wedding anniversary, I won't be planning a memorial service and welcoming tearful family and friends into my home. I will not relive the events of his death. 

I will continue on in this journey of grief, but as I do I will also be celebrating all that was and what will be.