It’s the last day of 2012. Everyone who has a blog or a website is doing a recap of the year. The goods, the bads, the whole nine yards. I won’t be doing that. I just can’t. 2012 was, up until Thanksgiving weekend, one of the best years of my life. With one conversation, my entire life and my entire future fell apart.
There was never supposed to be a Sarah without Brian. Moving forward not only seems impossible, it seems wrong. It seems against nature. It also seems inevitable.
Yet again something over which I had / have no choice.
There has been a shift in this process. Brian and I are transitioning into a new relationship and I am terrified. I am scared of not feeling the pain. I am scared of healing even the tiniest bit. I’m scared of what I know, even if it is the deepest level of hell, changing and being plunged yet again into the terrifying unknown. People tell me that healing doesn’t mean that I love him any less or that he loves me any less. People tell me that living my life doesn’t mean that he’s going to leave me. People tell me people tell me people tell me. Intellectually I know they are probably right. Intellect has no role in grief.
Brian and I weren’t perfect. We were human and thus flawed. We were, however, the closest thing to a perfect partnership that I have ever known. I know he will never leave me, I just have to adjust my expectations of what being with him looks like now. Does he whisper to me now? Does he show up in the white tailed deer that run through the woods, almost out of sight? When I’m awash with memories so strong I feel like I’m experiencing it, are they memories or is it really him being right there? When I remember the few painful times of our marriage, is it guilt or grief or forgiveness? Is he putting them there so I can forgive myself? When I remember the never ending list of joyful moments, is he there with me? Is he putting these memories in my head so that, for brief moments, we can love each other together again?
I don’t know. I don’t know. So many things I don’t know. For someone who has spent the majority of her life, at least her adult life, being confident and sure and steady, this unending blanket of uncertainty offers no comfort or warmth. Like new shoes that I’m not terribly fond of, I would rather throw it away than break it in.
Again, no choice. Again, no answers.
What if I forget? What if I forget the sound of his soft, deep voice? The feel of his hands? The soft spot behind his ear? How the beard swirled on one cheek and how he had a handful of long white hairs on the other? What if I forget which cheek was which? What if I forget how we fought and made up? What if I forget something for which I need to say I’m sorry? What if I forget something I need to tell him that I adore about him? What if I forget the way he smelled? What if I forget? This brings me to my knees in utter panic and terror.
And yet again, I have no choice. Someone came uninvited. They’re leaving. I’m scared they’re taking The Belle of the Ball.
“I’ll never forget you. I love you in spite of your faults. The good and the bad, I want to remember it all.” ~Waylon Jennings